Robert "Bob" Wilson

Robert "Bob” Craig Wilson, 83, of rural Glenwood MO, passed away surrounded by family who loved him dearly. Born on July 4, 1942, at home outside of Drakesville, IA, to Vic and Clair Belle Wilson, Bob came into this world on a day meant for fireworks, fitting for a man who would live a life full of spark, mischief, and laughter.

The oldest of three children, alongside his brother Mike and sister Nancy, Bob grew up on the family farm with a tight-knit band of cousins, Danny, Ronnie, and Terry, forming what could only be described as a pack of Wilson boys. They were usually found together, doing exactly what they shouldn’t. Bob attended Buttontown Country School and later Davis County High School. He loved to share vivid tales from those early days, like the infamous rock throwing battle over a toy sled, a story complete with a heroic underdog victory and a perfectly aimed shot above the villain’s eye.

Bob was a man of many talents and endless curiosity. He was a fabulous dancer, a master gardener and canner, and the undisputed king of corned beef and "world-renowned” pickles, at least in the world that mattered most to him: his family’s. He was a skilled hunter of deer and arrowheads alike, tireless fisherman, a homemade noodle craftsman, and a bluegrass music fanatic who could make a 5-string banjo sing. For 49 years, he poured his heart into his beloved music festival, a lifelong passion he shared with his children, siblings, nieces, nephew, and grandchildren.

Often, people say of the departed that they "never met a stranger.” That wasn’t true for Bob. He could size a person up in a matter of moments, and you always knew exactly where you stood. He was kind, gentle, and loudly loved his family, never leaving a single doubt about how he felt.

But above all, Bob was a storyteller. With sharp wit and perfect timing, he could turn even the simplest memory into a full-blown performance. Whether he was recounting his childhood escapades or re-telling his famously twisted version of The Three Little Pigs ("see, that second pig, he was a good ole boy, and he pulled out that .30-06 with a high-power scope that could pick a fly off a horse’s ass at a hundred yards…”), laughter was always guaranteed. Those stories, and the joy he brought with them, will be deeply missed by everyone lucky enough to have heard them.

Seventeen years ago, Bob met the love of his life, Linda Martin. They married and together they built a partnership filled with laughter, teasing, road trips, canning marathons, and music festivals. Linda was by his side until the very end holding his hand, exactly as he would have wanted it. Linda kept his belly full of desserts, each new creation quickly becoming "the best one yet.” She was his match in every way, loving him fiercely, keeping him in line when needed, and taking care of him with grace and humor, even when he would come home with four briskets and a freezer full of frozen pizzas because "they were on sale.” She was his person and he was hers.

Bob wasn’t perfect. He was sassy, held a lifelong vendetta against all groundhogs, drank buttermilk straight…with salt and pepper, and had very strong feelings about how to properly care for cast iron. But he was deeply loved, and his laughter, storytelling, and presence made the world richer for everyone who knew him.

He leaves behind his "Lovely Linda,” his children David (Susan), Joshua (Amanda), Marnie (Will), Erin (Brian), Noel (Kylee), Rebecca, Jeanne, Katie (Justin), grandchildren, great-grandchildren, nieces, nephews, sister Nancy (Roger), and a passel of friends who will miss him more than words can say.

The world feels quieter without his music, his one-liners, and his laughter. But he can still be found in every garden jar, hummingbird feeder, and fishing reel cast in his honor.

He was proceeded in death by his parents, daughter Robin, and partner in crime/brother Mike.

Services will be announced at a later date.