Robert G. (Bob) Van Houten, a resident of Park, WA passed away at home on Thursday, 9 February 2006. He was born in Newberg, OR on 30 December 1950, the son of Walter E. and DeLoris Van Houten. Bob graduated from Cashmere High School with the Class of 1969. He joined the U. S. Navy in 1970 and served as a computer technician/enginer. After leaving the Navy, Bob continued working in the Washington, D.C. area as an Program Manager for a variety of defense industry programs for the Secretary of Defense, the U. S. Army and the Central Intelligence Agency.
In order to be closer to his family, Bob returned home to Washington in 1990, where he and his wife, Shell, purchased the old Park Store located at the south end of Lake Whatcom. For the past ten years, he and Shell have operated Scooter Stuff, a small motorcycle shop, in this historic building.
Bob was well known in the motorcycle community and his death has impacted many. He will be sorely missed by his family, friends and all who knew him.
Excerpt from Lee & Jean Eklund e-mail dated 26 Febrary 2006.
“Recently we went to the funeral of Bob Van Houten. The church was by no means small, but it was standing room only, people 3 & 4 deep. At the alter were two motorcycles, not just any motorcycles, Bob’s motorcycles. As we waited, the screen showed images of Bob’s life. His childhood, his school years, and his adult years. It showed the good times he had with family and friends. We wondered what kind of man he truly was. When the services started, we got to know Bob better. His friends got up to speak about his unique humor and his boundless generosity. They spoke about his struggles to make his dreams come true and how he fought fire with humor. He was a consumate storyteller who found reasons to laugh at life. He enjoyed helping people. Not for what he could get out of it, but for the sheer joy of life. His end was typical of Bob, the storyteller. He left us still wanting to hear more stories. It would not surprise me to learn that Bob tried to tell Shell he was leaving before his death, but perhaps for the first time in his life he could not tell this story. So he laid down quietly in his sleep, leaving us on the wings of a dream.
His story may be ended, but perhaps it is our time to tell stories. Of our own lives and struggles and how we deal with them. At our funeral, will our lives inspire someone who did not know us to come to our place of sharing so they could get to know us better? Will our character shine forth leaving the listener to wish that they had know us sooner? If we use him as an example, the answer would be a resounding “Yes”!”
Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glint on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you wake in the morning hush, I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circling flight. I am the soft starlight at night. Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep.