Bill Anderson was never the sort of person to say "I love you", but the people who he loved--his family, friends, and his wife--never needed to hear him say "I love you" to know that it was true.
On August 5, 1933, in the midst of one of America's most challenging nightmares, the Great Depression, Bill was born to Willard and Zae, the youngest of seven children and the only son or daughter born from his parents' union; each of his six siblings had come from previous marriages. The Great Depression was a challenge for all Americans, and the Anderson family was no exception. Bill and his family moved from his home and birthplace in Watson, Michigan to wherever his father could find employment. The devastated economy in the 1930s disallowed any job stability, and Bill's father took his family as far as California and Washington to provide for them. The Upper Peninsula always remained "home" to Bill and his family, and he knew that he would return to Michigan one day.
Although the times were very difficult throughout Bill's childhood, his family was never short on love. His father coined a nickname for Bill, calling him "Sonny," a name which stuck through his young adulthood. Bill's favorite memories from his childhood weren't material; they were, for instance, sitting in the barn during a thunderstorm and listening to the tap of rain against the tin roof, or sneaking some of the cream after his grandmother milked the cows and indulging himself to the point of sickness. He spent most of his time outdoors, either hunting or helping with the family farm. The farm provided nearly everything his family ate, like the vegetables that his mother grew and canned, and it wasn't until Bill was ten years old that he actually ate food bought in a store. His childhood wasn't easy and leisurely, but it taught him the value of hard work, a virtue that he would pass onto his own children.
In high school, Bill played basketball, and while he was an important member of the team, he decided to leave school altogether during his sophomore year to go out into the world and make his own living. In the early 1950s, he moved to Muskegon County where he stayed with one of his half-sisters. He found work at Campbell's and later, he worked odd jobs. Like his own father, he never minded searching out work in different locations, and he spent much of the '50s as a traveling journeyman, riding his motorcycle to wherever he might find work.
It was also in the 1950s that Bill met the woman he would fall in love with, Laura "Pat" Putnam in Twin Lake. Outwardly, they were very different: Pat was from a "proper" family, and meanwhile, Bill was a motorcycle riding rebel rouser. It was a match made in Hollywood. Neither of them could get enough of one another, and Laura could frequently be seen riding around town on the back of his bike. They dated for about nine months and, on February 20, 1954, they married in New Buffalo.
After marrying, Bill returned to Muskegon and he and Pat made a home there. At this time, he still went by his father's nickname "Sonny", but that soon changed when he began working at S.D. Warren. A Will and a Willy already worked in the mill, and so his fellow workers took to calling him "Bill," the name that his father also went by.
In the first years of their marriage, Bill and Pat spent most of their time together going to movies and riding around on his bike. In 1956, they had their first child, David, and they continued having children until 1968, adding four more, Jon, Rusty, Dale, and Laura. As his only daughter, Laura and Bill were very close. Bill's children remember their parents working very hard to provide for them. There was no priority for Bill above providing for his family. While as a family they enjoyed lots of simple things, like camping at Walk Up Lake and Blue Lake County Park or trips to Aunt Mary's in the Upper Peninsula, Bill also worked hard to provide the flashier pleasures in life. Once, when David was fifteen, he returned home to hear his mother tell him that his father had gone off to shop for his car. David feared that his dad would come home with an awful station wagon or some bomb; instead, Dad returns with a 1965 Mustang Fastback--David just about lost it! True, the car needed a lot of work, but Bill spent the entire winter with his son rebuilding the motor and fixing the body. This also conveyed another of Bill's beliefs onto his children, that you can get whatever you want in life as long as you are willing to work hard enough for it.
Bill always loved to tinker with wood and metal, and he had quite a knack for it. When his buddies came over to the house, they'd first make a trip to the refrigerator for a few beers and then head out to the garage. He loved to have company, and just about everyone was a friend to Bill; he never knew any strangers, at least not for longer than five minutes. His favorite type of person to meet was a pretty girl, but he'd always say, "I'm not a dirty old man. I'm an unsanitary senior citizen." Bill loved music too, and he taught himself how to play the harmonica and he made a good attempt at the guitar as well. His favorite music to listen to was old country, artists like Hank Williams Sr., Tammy Wynette, and Loretta Lynn. He also enjoyed listening to Cyndi Lauper, but no one really understood why. Bill could never really rest in life--he was only happy if he was doing something--but he did always enjoy himself most in Whitney, a town in the Upper Peninsula.
The greatest pleasure in Bill's life was his family, and after working for 23 years at Campbell Paper Mill, he started up his own logging company with his boys David, Rusty, and Dale. After about ten years, the timber business sank toward depression, and Bill and the family headed down to Texas to follow the oil boom. While it was a glorious time for Bill, the family missed Muskegon and, after six years, they returned to Michigan, their home.
On June 14, 2004, after heart failure caused by a brief illness, Bill died at the age of seventy. He is survived by his wife of 50 years; children, David W. (Vickie), Lyle "Jon", Charles "Rusty", Dale W., and Laura L; 9 grandchildren; 1 great grandchild; brother, Virgil Maginity; special niece, Monica "Ann" Scott; and dedicated friend, David Burnham. Every minute Bill got something out of life, right up to the last one.
The Funeral Service for Bill will be held at the Achterhoff Funeral Home, 1751 Peck St. Relatives and friends may meet his family at the funeral home today from 7-9 P.M. and on Thursday from 2-4 P.M. and 7-9 P.M. Please visit www.lifestorynet.com where you can read Bill's Lifestory, leave a memory, order flowers, or make a contribution to the American Diabetes Association or American Heart Association.
On August 5, 1933, in the midst of one of America's most challenging nightmares, the Great Depression, Bill was born to Willard and Zae, the youngest of seven children and the only son or daughter born from his parents' union; each of his six siblings had come from previous marriages. The Great Depression was a challenge for all Americans, and the Anderson family was no exception. Bill and his family moved from his home and birthplace in Watson, Michigan to wherever his father could find employment. The devastated economy in the 1930s disallowed any job stability, and Bill's father took his family as far as California and Washington to provide for them. The Upper Peninsula always remained "home" to Bill and his family, and he knew that he would return to Michigan one day.
Although the times were very difficult throughout Bill's childhood, his family was never short on love. His father coined a nickname for Bill, calling him "Sonny," a name which stuck through his young adulthood. Bill's favorite memories from his childhood weren't material; they were, for instance, sitting in the barn during a thunderstorm and listening to the tap of rain against the tin roof, or sneaking some of the cream after his grandmother milked the cows and indulging himself to the point of sickness. He spent most of his time outdoors, either hunting or helping with the family farm. The farm provided nearly everything his family ate, like the vegetables that his mother grew and canned, and it wasn't until Bill was ten years old that he actually ate food bought in a store. His childhood wasn't easy and leisurely, but it taught him the value of hard work, a virtue that he would pass onto his own children.
In high school, Bill played basketball, and while he was an important member of the team, he decided to leave school altogether during his sophomore year to go out into the world and make his own living. In the early 1950s, he moved to Muskegon County where he stayed with one of his half-sisters. He found work at Campbell's and later, he worked odd jobs. Like his own father, he never minded searching out work in different locations, and he spent much of the '50s as a traveling journeyman, riding his motorcycle to wherever he might find work.
It was also in the 1950s that Bill met the woman he would fall in love with, Laura "Pat" Putnam in Twin Lake. Outwardly, they were very different: Pat was from a "proper" family, and meanwhile, Bill was a motorcycle riding rebel rouser. It was a match made in Hollywood. Neither of them could get enough of one another, and Laura could frequently be seen riding around town on the back of his bike. They dated for about nine months and, on February 20, 1954, they married in New Buffalo.
After marrying, Bill returned to Muskegon and he and Pat made a home there. At this time, he still went by his father's nickname "Sonny", but that soon changed when he began working at S.D. Warren. A Will and a Willy already worked in the mill, and so his fellow workers took to calling him "Bill," the name that his father also went by.
In the first years of their marriage, Bill and Pat spent most of their time together going to movies and riding around on his bike. In 1956, they had their first child, David, and they continued having children until 1968, adding four more, Jon, Rusty, Dale, and Laura. As his only daughter, Laura and Bill were very close. Bill's children remember their parents working very hard to provide for them. There was no priority for Bill above providing for his family. While as a family they enjoyed lots of simple things, like camping at Walk Up Lake and Blue Lake County Park or trips to Aunt Mary's in the Upper Peninsula, Bill also worked hard to provide the flashier pleasures in life. Once, when David was fifteen, he returned home to hear his mother tell him that his father had gone off to shop for his car. David feared that his dad would come home with an awful station wagon or some bomb; instead, Dad returns with a 1965 Mustang Fastback--David just about lost it! True, the car needed a lot of work, but Bill spent the entire winter with his son rebuilding the motor and fixing the body. This also conveyed another of Bill's beliefs onto his children, that you can get whatever you want in life as long as you are willing to work hard enough for it.
Bill always loved to tinker with wood and metal, and he had quite a knack for it. When his buddies came over to the house, they'd first make a trip to the refrigerator for a few beers and then head out to the garage. He loved to have company, and just about everyone was a friend to Bill; he never knew any strangers, at least not for longer than five minutes. His favorite type of person to meet was a pretty girl, but he'd always say, "I'm not a dirty old man. I'm an unsanitary senior citizen." Bill loved music too, and he taught himself how to play the harmonica and he made a good attempt at the guitar as well. His favorite music to listen to was old country, artists like Hank Williams Sr., Tammy Wynette, and Loretta Lynn. He also enjoyed listening to Cyndi Lauper, but no one really understood why. Bill could never really rest in life--he was only happy if he was doing something--but he did always enjoy himself most in Whitney, a town in the Upper Peninsula.
The greatest pleasure in Bill's life was his family, and after working for 23 years at Campbell Paper Mill, he started up his own logging company with his boys David, Rusty, and Dale. After about ten years, the timber business sank toward depression, and Bill and the family headed down to Texas to follow the oil boom. While it was a glorious time for Bill, the family missed Muskegon and, after six years, they returned to Michigan, their home.
On June 14, 2004, after heart failure caused by a brief illness, Bill died at the age of seventy. He is survived by his wife of 50 years; children, David W. (Vickie), Lyle "Jon", Charles "Rusty", Dale W., and Laura L; 9 grandchildren; 1 great grandchild; brother, Virgil Maginity; special niece, Monica "Ann" Scott; and dedicated friend, David Burnham. Every minute Bill got something out of life, right up to the last one.
The Funeral Service for Bill will be held at the Achterhoff Funeral Home, 1751 Peck St. Relatives and friends may meet his family at the funeral home today from 7-9 P.M. and on Thursday from 2-4 P.M. and 7-9 P.M. Please visit www.lifestorynet.com where you can read Bill's Lifestory, leave a memory, order flowers, or make a contribution to the American Diabetes Association or American Heart Association.
Bill Anderson was never the sort of person to say "I love you", but the people who he loved--his family, friends, and his wife--never needed to hear him say "I love you" to know that it was true.
On August 5, 1933, in the midst of one of America's most challenging nightmares, the Great Depression, Bill was born to Willard and Zae, the youngest of seven children and the only son or daughter born from his parents' union; each of his six siblings had come from previous marriages. The Great Depression was a challenge for all Americans, and the Anderson family was no exception. Bill and his family moved from his home and birthplace in Watson, Michigan to wherever his father could find employment. The devastated economy in the 1930s disallowed any job stability, and Bill's father took his family as far as California and Washington to provide for them. The Upper Peninsula always remained "home" to Bill and his family, and he knew that he would return to Michigan one day.
Although the times were very difficult throughout Bill's childhood, his family was never short on love. His father coined a nickname for Bill, calling him "Sonny," a name which stuck through his young adulthood. Bill's favorite memories from his childhood weren't material; they were, for instance, sitting in the barn during a thunderstorm and listening to the tap of rain against the tin roof, or sneaking some of the cream after his grandmother milked the cows and indulging himself to the point of sickness. He spent most of his time outdoors, either hunting or helping with the family farm. The farm provided nearly everything his family ate, like the vegetables that his mother grew and canned, and it wasn't until Bill was ten years old that he actually ate food bought in a store. His childhood wasn't easy and leisurely, but it taught him the value of hard work, a virtue that he would pass onto his own children.
In high school, Bill played basketball, and while he was an important member of the team, he decided to leave school altogether during his sophomore year to go out into the world and make his own living. In the early 1950s, he moved to Muskegon County where he stayed with one of his half-sisters. He found work at Campbell's and later, he worked odd jobs. Like his own father, he never minded searching out work in different locations, and he spent much of the '50s as a traveling journeyman, riding his motorcycle to wherever he might find work.
It was also in the 1950s that Bill met the woman he would fall in love with, Laura "Pat" Putnam in Twin Lake. Outwardly, they were very different: Pat was from a "proper" family, and meanwhile, Bill was a motorcycle riding rebel rouser. It was a match made in Hollywood. Neither of them could get enough of one another, and Laura could frequently be seen riding around town on the back of his bike. They dated for about nine months and, on February 20, 1954, they married in New Buffalo.
After marrying, Bill returned to Muskegon and he and Pat made a home there. At this time, he still went by his father's nickname "Sonny", but that soon changed when he began working at S.D. Warren. A Will and a Willy already worked in the mill, and so his fellow workers took to calling him "Bill," the name that his father also went by.
In the first years of their marriage, Bill and Pat spent most of their time together going to movies and riding around on his bike. In 1956, they had their first child, David, and they continued having children until 1968, adding four more, Jon, Rusty, Dale, and Laura. As his only daughter, Laura and Bill were very close. Bill's children remember their parents working very hard to provide for them. There was no priority for Bill above providing for his family. While as a family they enjoyed lots of simple things, like camping at Walk Up Lake and Blue Lake County Park or trips to Aunt Mary's in the Upper Peninsula, Bill also worked hard to provide the flashier pleasures in life. Once, when David was fifteen, he returned home to hear his mother tell him that his father had gone off to shop for his car. David feared that his dad would come home with an awful station wagon or some bomb; instead, Dad returns with a 1965 Mustang Fastback--David just about lost it! True, the car needed a lot of work, but Bill spent the entire winter with his son rebuilding the motor and fixing the body. This also conveyed another of Bill's beliefs onto his children, that you can get whatever you want in life as long as you are willing to work hard enough for it.
Bill always loved to tinker with wood and metal, and he had quite a knack for it. When his buddies came over to the house, they'd first make a trip to the refrigerator for a few beers and then head out to the garage. He loved to have company, and just about everyone was a friend to Bill; he never knew any strangers, at least not for longer than five minutes. His favorite type of person to meet was a pretty girl, but he'd always say, "I'm not a dirty old man. I'm an unsanitary senior citizen." Bill loved music too, and he taught himself how to play the harmonica and he made a good attempt at the guitar as well. His favorite music to listen to was old country, artists like Hank Williams Sr., Tammy Wynette, and Loretta Lynn. He also enjoyed listening to Cyndi Lauper, but no one really understood why. Bill could never really rest in life--he was only happy if he was doing something--but he did always enjoy himself most in Whitney, a town in the Upper Peninsula.
The greatest pleasure in Bill's life was his family, and after working for 23 years at Campbell Paper Mill, he started up his own logging company with his boys David, Rusty, and Dale. After about ten years, the timber business sank toward depression, and Bill and the family headed down to Texas to follow the oil boom. While it was a glorious time for Bill, the family missed Muskegon and, after six years, they returned to Michigan, their home.
On June 14, 2004, after heart failure caused by a brief illness, Bill died at the age of seventy. He is survived by his wife of 50 years; children, David W. (Vickie), Lyle "Jon", Charles "Rusty", Dale W., and Laura L; 9 grandchildren; 1 great grandchild; brother, Virgil Maginity; special niece, Monica "Ann" Scott; and dedicated friend, David Burnham. Every minute Bill got something out of life, right up to the last one.
The Funeral Service for Bill will be held at the Achterhoff Funeral Home, 1751 Peck St. Relatives and friends may meet his family at the funeral home today from 7-9 P.M. and on Thursday from 2-4 P.M. and 7-9 P.M. Please visit www.lifestorynet.com where you can read Bill's Lifestory, leave a memory, order flowers, or make a contribution to the American Diabetes Association or American Heart Association.
On August 5, 1933, in the midst of one of America's most challenging nightmares, the Great Depression, Bill was born to Willard and Zae, the youngest of seven children and the only son or daughter born from his parents' union; each of his six siblings had come from previous marriages. The Great Depression was a challenge for all Americans, and the Anderson family was no exception. Bill and his family moved from his home and birthplace in Watson, Michigan to wherever his father could find employment. The devastated economy in the 1930s disallowed any job stability, and Bill's father took his family as far as California and Washington to provide for them. The Upper Peninsula always remained "home" to Bill and his family, and he knew that he would return to Michigan one day.
Although the times were very difficult throughout Bill's childhood, his family was never short on love. His father coined a nickname for Bill, calling him "Sonny," a name which stuck through his young adulthood. Bill's favorite memories from his childhood weren't material; they were, for instance, sitting in the barn during a thunderstorm and listening to the tap of rain against the tin roof, or sneaking some of the cream after his grandmother milked the cows and indulging himself to the point of sickness. He spent most of his time outdoors, either hunting or helping with the family farm. The farm provided nearly everything his family ate, like the vegetables that his mother grew and canned, and it wasn't until Bill was ten years old that he actually ate food bought in a store. His childhood wasn't easy and leisurely, but it taught him the value of hard work, a virtue that he would pass onto his own children.
In high school, Bill played basketball, and while he was an important member of the team, he decided to leave school altogether during his sophomore year to go out into the world and make his own living. In the early 1950s, he moved to Muskegon County where he stayed with one of his half-sisters. He found work at Campbell's and later, he worked odd jobs. Like his own father, he never minded searching out work in different locations, and he spent much of the '50s as a traveling journeyman, riding his motorcycle to wherever he might find work.
It was also in the 1950s that Bill met the woman he would fall in love with, Laura "Pat" Putnam in Twin Lake. Outwardly, they were very different: Pat was from a "proper" family, and meanwhile, Bill was a motorcycle riding rebel rouser. It was a match made in Hollywood. Neither of them could get enough of one another, and Laura could frequently be seen riding around town on the back of his bike. They dated for about nine months and, on February 20, 1954, they married in New Buffalo.
After marrying, Bill returned to Muskegon and he and Pat made a home there. At this time, he still went by his father's nickname "Sonny", but that soon changed when he began working at S.D. Warren. A Will and a Willy already worked in the mill, and so his fellow workers took to calling him "Bill," the name that his father also went by.
In the first years of their marriage, Bill and Pat spent most of their time together going to movies and riding around on his bike. In 1956, they had their first child, David, and they continued having children until 1968, adding four more, Jon, Rusty, Dale, and Laura. As his only daughter, Laura and Bill were very close. Bill's children remember their parents working very hard to provide for them. There was no priority for Bill above providing for his family. While as a family they enjoyed lots of simple things, like camping at Walk Up Lake and Blue Lake County Park or trips to Aunt Mary's in the Upper Peninsula, Bill also worked hard to provide the flashier pleasures in life. Once, when David was fifteen, he returned home to hear his mother tell him that his father had gone off to shop for his car. David feared that his dad would come home with an awful station wagon or some bomb; instead, Dad returns with a 1965 Mustang Fastback--David just about lost it! True, the car needed a lot of work, but Bill spent the entire winter with his son rebuilding the motor and fixing the body. This also conveyed another of Bill's beliefs onto his children, that you can get whatever you want in life as long as you are willing to work hard enough for it.
Bill always loved to tinker with wood and metal, and he had quite a knack for it. When his buddies came over to the house, they'd first make a trip to the refrigerator for a few beers and then head out to the garage. He loved to have company, and just about everyone was a friend to Bill; he never knew any strangers, at least not for longer than five minutes. His favorite type of person to meet was a pretty girl, but he'd always say, "I'm not a dirty old man. I'm an unsanitary senior citizen." Bill loved music too, and he taught himself how to play the harmonica and he made a good attempt at the guitar as well. His favorite music to listen to was old country, artists like Hank Williams Sr., Tammy Wynette, and Loretta Lynn. He also enjoyed listening to Cyndi Lauper, but no one really understood why. Bill could never really rest in life--he was only happy if he was doing something--but he did always enjoy himself most in Whitney, a town in the Upper Peninsula.
The greatest pleasure in Bill's life was his family, and after working for 23 years at Campbell Paper Mill, he started up his own logging company with his boys David, Rusty, and Dale. After about ten years, the timber business sank toward depression, and Bill and the family headed down to Texas to follow the oil boom. While it was a glorious time for Bill, the family missed Muskegon and, after six years, they returned to Michigan, their home.
On June 14, 2004, after heart failure caused by a brief illness, Bill died at the age of seventy. He is survived by his wife of 50 years; children, David W. (Vickie), Lyle "Jon", Charles "Rusty", Dale W., and Laura L; 9 grandchildren; 1 great grandchild; brother, Virgil Maginity; special niece, Monica "Ann" Scott; and dedicated friend, David Burnham. Every minute Bill got something out of life, right up to the last one.
The Funeral Service for Bill will be held at the Achterhoff Funeral Home, 1751 Peck St. Relatives and friends may meet his family at the funeral home today from 7-9 P.M. and on Thursday from 2-4 P.M. and 7-9 P.M. Please visit www.lifestorynet.com where you can read Bill's Lifestory, leave a memory, order flowers, or make a contribution to the American Diabetes Association or American Heart Association.
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