Obituary for Wilfred "Bill" Relyea
Bar Harbor, Maine
Wilfred (Bill) Relyea left this world on Sept 29, 2023, at Birch Bay Retirement Village in Bar Harbor, Maine. We lost the real him back in 2019, when he developed rapid onset vascular dementia from repeated small strokes, necessitating the move to Maine. Bill was born on July 5th, 1937, in Highland, New York, the son of the late John and Mildred Relyea.
He was the youngest of six children, brothers John, Ken and Robert, and sisters Mildred and Virginia. Following graduation from Highland High School in 1955, he enlisted in the US Navy, where he served aboard the William M. Wood (DDR-715) and was responsible for the maintenance of the electronic gear that directed the ship's gunfire. Upon discharge in August of 1961, Bill started taking classes at Duchess Community College, but he soon became somewhat bored. He chose to apply for a job at IBM in Poughkeepsie and was accepted as a technician, testing, and repairing computer equipment. Thus began a 33-year career which had Bill involved in many aspects of the business, from system testing to working with other companies to acquire their products. It also included a year's paid leave of absence to Duchess County Cooperative Extension, where he led a year-long groundwater study in cooperation with the US Geological Survey.
Early on in his time with IBM, Bill looked for lodging. He hooked up with Gordon Kreth, another recent military discharge, to look for rentals. They found this secluded log cabin outside on the outskirts of New Paltz with a lovely view of the Shawangunks. That place soon became a bachelor's haven, which they called Ponderosa. It became famous for its parties and get-togethers of all sorts, including a huge annual Christmas party for the children of their friends. Life moved on and both Gordon and Bill became involved in relationships. Their agreement was that whoever got married first would vacate the Ponderosa. Gordon soon moved on with his love, Joanne, and not long after Bill realized he had found the love of his life in Helen Coulsting, and she moved into Ponderosa with him.
Thoughts of really settling down soon had them looking for a place to build a house and they settled on a 7 1/2 acre heavily wooded property in the town of Clinton in Dutchess County. It was their paradise with huge oaks and maples, a field, and a small brook flowing through it all. That brook, because it barely ran in the summer months, quickly became known as Barely Brook, and that became the name of their place. Bill and Helen soon had two children. First born was a daughter, Melissa Jean, and then a boy, Jason Hale. Their children soon learned to love Barely Brook and all the creatures within it.
And that’s where my dad stopped writing his obituary. They say when you have kids, you don’t have time for other things anymore, but I know for a fact that he started this draft long after Jason and I were grown and moved away. Yes, this is Melissa writing now.
Jason and I had a great life growing up at Barely Brook. There was a beautiful garden that my parents tended together, where my dad would spend hours when he was frustrated from his day job. Some weekends, we would ask where dad was, and mom would say ‘He had a long week, he’s out in the garden.’ We’d leave him be until lunch time, when we’d bring him some snacks that were harvested from the garden the day before, (usually with the addition of salt, mayonnaise, a slice of cheese and a couple of pieces of bread) and he would be grateful, having gotten his quiet time in. Then we would help him in the garden or sit in a nearby tree and watch as he and mom worked, occasionally asking for more fresh veggies to be delivered to our leafy perch.
Dad also found peace on trout streams and bass ponds around Hudson Valley. He shared that love of fishing with us kids, teaching us how to choose the right lures or flies, how to read the water, and how to clean fish if we were planning to keep them for dinner. One time I went fishing by myself, and I caught a somewhat unreasonable amount of bluegill sunfish. When dad picked me up at the lake, he reminded me that I had to clean all those fish, and I thought that was fine until the mosquitoes started descending on me in the yard as the sky grew dark. Dad brought me a headlamp and bug repellant, but he said I had to finish cleaning the fish, so that not one went to waste. We ended up with a full freezer of bluegill filets, and I learned to pace myself when keeping fish after that.
While I preferred lake fishing, Jason took to fly fishing. When Jason moved to Colorado, dad would go visit him, and they would spend a few days fishing on the Frying Pan River, catching trout and drinking beers. Both Dad and Jason were mostly into catch and release at that time, but they took photos of all the fish, in the special nets made for keeping the fish safe before they were released. Occasionally, they would make a fireside dinner of a trout or two, but most went back to the pool they were caught from.
Dad was an excellent storyteller, and mostly made up his own tales. On some weekend nights when we were kids, my brother and I would ask for a bedtime story. When we were lucky, Dad would say “Just give me about 10 minutes.”, and he would sit quietly and cogitate, then he would sit in a chair in the hall outside our bedrooms and spin a yarn for us.
My dad’s storytelling skills gained neighborhood prominence through Halloween nights by the campfire. My parents hosted an annual trick or treat bonfire, and as the evening wound down, the kids would gather in our driveway to compare their volume of collected candy, and to listen to a scary story told by my dad, by the fading firelight. Yes, sometimes my dad had to walk some kids home, because they developed a sudden fear of the dark from his fables.
But enough about our childhood. Dad did life right. With the help of my mom, who kept his spending in line (although he still had more fishing gear than anyone else I’ve known!), dad was able to retire at 55, taking an early buyout from IBM. He returned to what he really loved, which was environmental conservation and education. He worked for the Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies in NY, and volunteered for organizations such as the Hudson River Sloop Clearwater, the Winnakee Land Trust, and others. He also taught outdoor education classes to youngsters, mostly focusing on stream conservation. He continued to fish and hike, dabble in nature photography, and garden. He stayed close with his remaining siblings ‘across the river’ in Highland, and in Virginia. He and Mom fed the birds and squirrels and deer at Barely Brook. Even the fish in the brook would gather when they saw Dad’s shadow appear by their pool, knowing they would be getting snacks (only good nutritious fish food, not breadcrumbs!).
Dad did his best to pass his love of nature on to his only grandson, Bela, who would spend every waking hour looking for critters in the woods and the stream when he visited his grandparents. When Mema and Papa (Bela’s name for his grandparents) visited Maine, Bela would show Papa all the places where he found salamanders and other creatures in the Maine woods and would instruct Papa how to build fairy houses out of bark and stones and foliage. I think Dad passed along his love of nature along well.
He is survived by his loving wife, Helen Relyea, his son Jason Relyea, and is daughter, Melissa Relyea Ossanna, son-in-law Peter Ossanna, and grandson Bela Relyea Ossanna. He is also survived and missed by his neighbors in NY, the Cordiscos, who were chosen family, and many other friends and relatives, who will remember his kindness and humor forever.
In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Nature Conservancy (Limited-Time Matching Fund | The Nature Conservancy), to support land conservation wherever you enjoy the outdoors.
Arrangements by Jordan-Fernald Funeral Homes, 1139 Main St. Mt. Desert, ME 04660.
Condolences may be expressed online at www.jordanfernald.com
Wilfred (Bill) Relyea left this world on Sept 29, 2023, at Birch Bay Retirement Village in Bar Harbor, Maine. We lost the real him back in 2019, when he developed rapid onset vascular dementia from repeated small strokes, necessitating the move to Maine. Bill was born on July 5th, 1937, in Highland, New York, the son of the late John and Mildred Relyea.
He was the youngest of six children, brothers John, Ken and Robert, and sisters Mildred and Virginia. Following graduation from Highland High School in 1955, he enlisted in the US Navy, where he served aboard the William M. Wood (DDR-715) and was responsible for the maintenance of the electronic gear that directed the ship's gunfire. Upon discharge in August of 1961, Bill started taking classes at Duchess Community College, but he soon became somewhat bored. He chose to apply for a job at IBM in Poughkeepsie and was accepted as a technician, testing, and repairing computer equipment. Thus began a 33-year career which had Bill involved in many aspects of the business, from system testing to working with other companies to acquire their products. It also included a year's paid leave of absence to Duchess County Cooperative Extension, where he led a year-long groundwater study in cooperation with the US Geological Survey.
Early on in his time with IBM, Bill looked for lodging. He hooked up with Gordon Kreth, another recent military discharge, to look for rentals. They found this secluded log cabin outside on the outskirts of New Paltz with a lovely view of the Shawangunks. That place soon became a bachelor's haven, which they called Ponderosa. It became famous for its parties and get-togethers of all sorts, including a huge annual Christmas party for the children of their friends. Life moved on and both Gordon and Bill became involved in relationships. Their agreement was that whoever got married first would vacate the Ponderosa. Gordon soon moved on with his love, Joanne, and not long after Bill realized he had found the love of his life in Helen Coulsting, and she moved into Ponderosa with him.
Thoughts of really settling down soon had them looking for a place to build a house and they settled on a 7 1/2 acre heavily wooded property in the town of Clinton in Dutchess County. It was their paradise with huge oaks and maples, a field, and a small brook flowing through it all. That brook, because it barely ran in the summer months, quickly became known as Barely Brook, and that became the name of their place. Bill and Helen soon had two children. First born was a daughter, Melissa Jean, and then a boy, Jason Hale. Their children soon learned to love Barely Brook and all the creatures within it.
And that’s where my dad stopped writing his obituary. They say when you have kids, you don’t have time for other things anymore, but I know for a fact that he started this draft long after Jason and I were grown and moved away. Yes, this is Melissa writing now.
Jason and I had a great life growing up at Barely Brook. There was a beautiful garden that my parents tended together, where my dad would spend hours when he was frustrated from his day job. Some weekends, we would ask where dad was, and mom would say ‘He had a long week, he’s out in the garden.’ We’d leave him be until lunch time, when we’d bring him some snacks that were harvested from the garden the day before, (usually with the addition of salt, mayonnaise, a slice of cheese and a couple of pieces of bread) and he would be grateful, having gotten his quiet time in. Then we would help him in the garden or sit in a nearby tree and watch as he and mom worked, occasionally asking for more fresh veggies to be delivered to our leafy perch.
Dad also found peace on trout streams and bass ponds around Hudson Valley. He shared that love of fishing with us kids, teaching us how to choose the right lures or flies, how to read the water, and how to clean fish if we were planning to keep them for dinner. One time I went fishing by myself, and I caught a somewhat unreasonable amount of bluegill sunfish. When dad picked me up at the lake, he reminded me that I had to clean all those fish, and I thought that was fine until the mosquitoes started descending on me in the yard as the sky grew dark. Dad brought me a headlamp and bug repellant, but he said I had to finish cleaning the fish, so that not one went to waste. We ended up with a full freezer of bluegill filets, and I learned to pace myself when keeping fish after that.
While I preferred lake fishing, Jason took to fly fishing. When Jason moved to Colorado, dad would go visit him, and they would spend a few days fishing on the Frying Pan River, catching trout and drinking beers. Both Dad and Jason were mostly into catch and release at that time, but they took photos of all the fish, in the special nets made for keeping the fish safe before they were released. Occasionally, they would make a fireside dinner of a trout or two, but most went back to the pool they were caught from.
Dad was an excellent storyteller, and mostly made up his own tales. On some weekend nights when we were kids, my brother and I would ask for a bedtime story. When we were lucky, Dad would say “Just give me about 10 minutes.”, and he would sit quietly and cogitate, then he would sit in a chair in the hall outside our bedrooms and spin a yarn for us.
My dad’s storytelling skills gained neighborhood prominence through Halloween nights by the campfire. My parents hosted an annual trick or treat bonfire, and as the evening wound down, the kids would gather in our driveway to compare their volume of collected candy, and to listen to a scary story told by my dad, by the fading firelight. Yes, sometimes my dad had to walk some kids home, because they developed a sudden fear of the dark from his fables.
But enough about our childhood. Dad did life right. With the help of my mom, who kept his spending in line (although he still had more fishing gear than anyone else I’ve known!), dad was able to retire at 55, taking an early buyout from IBM. He returned to what he really loved, which was environmental conservation and education. He worked for the Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies in NY, and volunteered for organizations such as the Hudson River Sloop Clearwater, the Winnakee Land Trust, and others. He also taught outdoor education classes to youngsters, mostly focusing on stream conservation. He continued to fish and hike, dabble in nature photography, and garden. He stayed close with his remaining siblings ‘across the river’ in Highland, and in Virginia. He and Mom fed the birds and squirrels and deer at Barely Brook. Even the fish in the brook would gather when they saw Dad’s shadow appear by their pool, knowing they would be getting snacks (only good nutritious fish food, not breadcrumbs!).
Dad did his best to pass his love of nature on to his only grandson, Bela, who would spend every waking hour looking for critters in the woods and the stream when he visited his grandparents. When Mema and Papa (Bela’s name for his grandparents) visited Maine, Bela would show Papa all the places where he found salamanders and other creatures in the Maine woods and would instruct Papa how to build fairy houses out of bark and stones and foliage. I think Dad passed along his love of nature along well.
He is survived by his loving wife, Helen Relyea, his son Jason Relyea, and is daughter, Melissa Relyea Ossanna, son-in-law Peter Ossanna, and grandson Bela Relyea Ossanna. He is also survived and missed by his neighbors in NY, the Cordiscos, who were chosen family, and many other friends and relatives, who will remember his kindness and humor forever.
In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Nature Conservancy (Limited-Time Matching Fund | The Nature Conservancy), to support land conservation wherever you enjoy the outdoors.
Arrangements by Jordan-Fernald Funeral Homes, 1139 Main St. Mt. Desert, ME 04660.
Condolences may be expressed online at www.jordanfernald.com