And so we say “Farewell” to Craig Week for another year.

Although his life was cut short, Craig lived it to the fullest.  I believe he accomplished everything he ever wanted.

When he was young, he went through phases like everyone else.  In Jr. High he wanted to be a Hell’s Angel. He read the Hunter Thompson book and became fascinated with the lifestyle it portrayed — outlaw rebellion that suited a teenager in the 60s.  But he never bought a motorcycle and I don’t believe he ever learned to ride one.

Likewise, he was wild about tattoos — from the Hell’s Angels age through when he owned a tavern with a magazine stand and got all of the motorcycle and tattoo magazines they offered.  But he never did get around to getting a tattoo.

He wanted to be a truck driver, and starting during the CB radio craze of the late 70s, he went overboard (as he did with all of his passions), erecting an antenna tower at our home and establishing a base station, making sure all of our family cars (mine, Dad’s and his) had radios and we all used them (with proper “handles” or code names).  Even Bart Ward, who was too young to drive, had a CB handle and new how to use the radio.

He finally went to driving school in the early 80s and became an over the road trucker — which he romanticized as a “knight of the road.”  That spilled over into his love of movies and videos and music. 

Yes, his main dream was to be a music man — and that he did.  From his early days in elementary school during the “British Invasion” led by the Beatles, he dreamed of being in a band, and he even assembled a few — before he knew how to play an instrument.

But he did learn and became a professional musician, starting the Legend-In-Their-Own-Mind country rock group, The Bunk House Boys. He bought music equipment, including many guitars and basses, and sound systems, and even a tour bus.  More than that, he guided his brothers into making music and buying MORE guitars.

He also found true love with his wife Joy, and spent the last years of his life with her. After marrying Craig, Joy also went to truck driving school and they became a driving team, crossing the country in every direction from their home base in Wichita.

They were able to buy a wonderful house together, and when they decided that life on the road didn’t fulfill everything they wanted, They bought an Old-Time-Photo business in historic Old Town Wichita.  He proclaimed himself Col. Ward, and then turned his love of Western lore and history to historical re-creation and re-enactments.

Although his last couple of years were not comfortable, he seemed to find peace in the face of death.

As his younger brother, I can truly say that Craig taught me all about life and how to get the most out of it — and he also taught me that when death is inevitable, the best thing you can do is die with dignity.

And now, maybe you understand what a marvelous fellow he was, and why the ones he left behind cherish and celebrate his memory.

To quote a song from his favorite band, The Eagles:

I once knew a man, very talented guy He’d sing for the people and people would cry They knew that his song came from deep down inside You could hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes

And so he traveled along, touch your heart, then be gone Like a flower, he bloomed till that old hickory wind Called him home

My man’s got it made He’s gone far beyond the pain And we who must remain go on living just the same We who must remain go on laughing just the same.