William O Coates
My Dad was a dedicated farm tractor man and was extremely knowledable about them.
He will be missed by all of us.
Eulogy by Dave Hawkins
William Coates was the bravest man I have ever known and probably the
bravest man I ever will know.
This attribute of his character may not have been as evident to those who
knew him as were his many other qualities. For instance, you didn't have to
spend very much time with Bill to realize that he was a gifted teacher. His
teaching style was a natural one. It involved many techniques but the most
powerful techniques he used were - demonstration, involvement and
enthusiasm. He demonstrated how one might do something well, thus becoming
directly involved in the teaching itself while ensuring that his student -
be it a family member, neighbour, friend or someone who had just stopped by
- become equally involved and engaged. He made sure that you participated -
he knew well that people learn by doing - and he always brought his
energetic enthusiasm to the lesson.
I'll share with you an example of this by way of a little story -So much of
my relationship with Bill revolved around field crops - most typically hay
and oats. He taught me plenty about hay over the years but the time I'm
thinking of involved the proper way to stack hay for transportation and to
maximize the load. I was in the field with my Chevy half-ton pick-up. I'd
been loading the bales myself and had what I thought was a BIG load in the
box - 28 bales! I was pretty pleased with my efforts and waited for Bill to
come around on the Fordson pulling the automatic baler. He stopped the
tractor as he approached the pick-up and without saying a word he came
over and adjusted a few bales. Then he asked for the pitchfork and
suggested that I get up on top of the bales while he threw a few more
up to me. One by one he lifted a bail off the field and up onto the back of
the pick-up with a one or two word comment on where and how I should place
it - interlocking the rows of hay-bales together. When we were finished
there was quite a stack of hay on the back of that truck - my feet were at
least 15 feet off the ground. We'd loaded 56 bales over the sagging springs
of the pick-up truck - twice the original quantity, He was proud, I was
proud - we threw a couple of ropes over the bales, tied them down and drove
off to the barn - one trip, fully 58 bales. A good lesson learned on how to
stack hay for transportation. We both smiled, a little self-satisfied -
teacher and student.
Most people knew Bill because he was so extraordinarily resourceful and
they'd go to him for help to fix this or that - get a part for an aging
Cockshutt or a near-rusted-out Volvo - of course Bill would never admit
openly that Volvo's rusted out - with his help even a neglected Volvo was
good for 300,000 or more miles before its first major tune-up!
Bill could fix anything and he could invent near anything. Had he been born
50 years later, NASA would have certainly sought him out and recruited him
for the space programme.
But more than anything, Bill was a family man - I never met a man so
dedicated and committed to each and every member of his family, young or
old. He never stopped interrupting his stories - to tell you just how smart
Ruth was, what John had cleverly built or some extremely far-off place in
the world where Bruce was protecting freedom with the navy. And his stories
about how wonderful his children's spouses accomplishments were, he told
with almost equal enthusiasm - then he'd move on to stories about the
grandchildren's accomplishments - proud stories of young people growing up.
He loved them all so much and I often wondered if he'd shared with them
directly just how proud he was of each of them or whether or not, like so
many of us, he found it easier to tell others.
In truth, I rarely thought of Bill as just Bill - in my experience, and in
my mind, it was always Bill and Joyce - they were almost inseparable and
together they were a powerful team. His love and affection for Joyce came
out in nearly everything he did. He knew that she, above all others,
understood him, cared for him and stood by him - and in these ways he
seemed utterly reliant on her to keep things going - the farm, the family
and the home fires where you could always count on a cup of strong tea,
cookies, and an update on the events of the day.
Bill had been overseas during the war and separated from the farm and his
beloved family for years. If it takes a man to cry - then Bill was quite a
man - he didn't enjoy talking about wartime experiences - but occasionally
he did - usually in the most solemn of ways and almost always there would
be tears in his eyes and a quiet softness in his voice. He'd seen a lot of
pain and experienced it as well. I don't think I ever saw him without a
back brace which he wore as the result of service to his
Country...Everyday for Bill included that painful reminder of his years
overseas. I never once heard him complain.
To be honest, Bill had been like a father to me at a time when I no longer
had a father. But it was more than that - much more - he was the most
loyal, reliable and trustworthy friend I have ever had and probably the
stupidest thing I have ever done was to move to town a few years ago -
because it put more than two or three miles between Bill and me and we saw
each less often. But by then, John and Bruce had returned home and it all
went quite naturally.
I never really knew that he'd meant so much to me or that I had missed him
so much until driving down I-95 in the United States, last Thursday night,
through a blinding snowstorm, I got the phone call to let me know that Bill
had slipped away.
I started by saying that Bill was the bravest man I've ever known. I
thought that I could tell you exactly why I feel that way - but I can't. I
just know, that for me, it's the truth.
He marched on bravely, fixing tractors,
inventing things, loving his family and friends and working the farm.
My God, Bill - we'll miss your bright smile.
David Hawkins
February 27, 1999