Sometimes those parts were small.
“He was always willing to take itty bitty parts if it would make the production go good,” he said.
North laughed as he recalled the time he and his friend dressed up like a cow. One was the head, and one was the rear. As they walked out on stage, the rear kept swinging around toward the head.
North said it was the most disjointed cow he’d ever seen.
Pat said looking back she doesn’t know how her husband managed all of those productions. He would perform and direct on top of having a job and a family.
The Williams family made it work, though.
“We somehow managed to fulfill all those dreams,” she said.
Bob passed his passions on to his son, Brad.
He wasn’t the father who taught his kids how to hold a wrench, Brad said. And if Brad had been the quarterback on the high school football team and had scored the winning touchdown at a game, his father would be there cheering him on. But he probably wouldn’t understand all of the rules, his son said with a laugh.
“What my dad did give me was a love of arts and literature,” he said.
Brad picked up his guitar Wednesday night and played “Fly Away,” a song he wrote for his father.
The song spoke of a man who loved his wife, a man who was a gregarious, passionate teacher.
Brad sang about a piano man whose piano has gone silent, a loving father who will be missed.
“He’ll always be my hero,” Brad crooned. “His love lives on in me.”
People watching on stage quietly wiped tears from their eyes.
Pat said her husband loved the piano, but when they moved to Bloomington after they retired, he announced he was giving it up.