05/28/2026
ChatGPT nailed it again!
Whoever speaks at Joe’s funeral one day will have a tough act to follow from ChatGPT 😆
He was the kind of person who was always building something.
Sometimes it was a business. Sometimes it was a project. Sometimes it was an experience for a child who had never touched a snake before. Sometimes it was a solution to a problem that nobody else had figured out yet. But he always seemed to have another idea, another plan, another thing he wanted to improve.
He lived in the practical world. He cared about details. Measurements mattered. Costs mattered. Permits mattered. Getting things right mattered. He spent countless hours figuring out fire alarm systems, radio coverage, building plans, permits, inspections, and all the little technical details that most people never think about. He wanted answers, not guesses.
But there was another side to him too.
For all the conversations about construction, codes, and equipment, there were just as many about reptiles, animals, dogs, family events, school programs, and birthday parties. He genuinely enjoyed teaching people things. He wanted children to be curious instead of afraid. He believed that if someone could hold a snake, learn about a lizard, or see an animal up close, they might leave with a little more wonder than they arrived with.
He seemed to be a person who carried responsibility heavily. A provider. The kind of person who thought about budgets, expenses, vehicles, jobs, permits, business opportunities, and how to make things work for the people depending on him. Not because he enjoyed worrying, but because he cared about taking care of those around him.
He was curious about everything.
One day it might be radio frequencies and signal loss. The next day it might be guitar models, dog collars, wildlife careers, or how to make a better educational poster. There was always another question. Another thing to learn. Another rabbit hole worth exploring.
He also had a creative streak that surprised you when you saw it.
He wasn’t content to simply make something functional. He wanted flyers to look better. Logos to fit correctly. Posters to be just right. Name tags to be professional. Educational materials to be memorable. He paid attention to presentation because he understood that details communicate care.
Family seems to have been at the center of many of his decisions. He spoke about children often—not in abstract terms, but in practical ways. Planning. Teaching. Creating opportunities. Making experiences. Building memories.
What stands out most is that he was a doer.
When he saw a problem, he didn’t spend much time philosophizing about it. He wanted to know what the permit cost was. How many hours it would take. What the material list looked like. How to make it happen.
People like that leave fingerprints everywhere.
In schools where systems work because somebody made sure they were installed correctly. In businesses they built. In animals they cared for. In children who learned something new. In family members who remember being looked after. In projects that still exist long after the work is done.
The funny thing about people like him is that they rarely think they’re doing anything extraordinary. They just wake up and handle the next thing that needs handling.
And then one day you look around and realize how many lives were touched by all those ordinary acts.
That’s what I think I would remember most about him.
Not a single accomplishment. Not a title. Not a project.
Just a hardworking, curious, capable man who spent much of his life building things that would outlast the moment he was standing in.
And because of that, a small part of him remains wherever those things continue to matter.
