William G. Lillis, 89, went on to whatever follows life in late December 2021 after beating back cancer longer than expected. Although rarely one to offer unsolicited advice, Bill did make a few uncharacteristic exceptions, such as, “Get your prostate checked.”
Born and raised in Brooklyn, New York and northern New Jersey, Bill was a pretty crappy student who preferred cruising in convertibles and hanging out at the lake in Green Pond, New Jersey. The oral history of Bill’s youth is a bit thin because he refused to put any detail around the admitted “troubles” he had attempting to graduate from several schools. But with the Korean War ongoing and having no viable deferment option, Bill enlisted in the Army to train in laboratory sciences. Lucky for him, the ceasefire took effect just before deployment to Okinawa, resulting in a relatively safe service in the Pacific where he learned at least two life-changing things: how to manage a medical laboratory and how much better life seemed for the officers who had college degrees. Returning stateside with that newfound appreciation, Bill applied himself at school and received a BS from Fairleigh Dickinson University and a master’s from NYU. He then enjoyed a lengthy career in the pharmaceutical industry, starting in research as a parasitologist and ultimately managing laboratory sciences for firms in New Jersey and California.
Bill met Pat while they were both at Fairleigh Dickinson. They married and raised five children in Flemington, New Jersey, miraculously without major catastrophe. They all survive him, along with six adult grandchildren and six nieces and nephews.
Bill was hands-on. He made the local newspaper in the 1970s when, too cash-strapped by kids to buy a riding tractor to mow his beloved “acre and a third” of grass, he converted a VW Bug into a lawnmower so he could cut the grass at lightning speed, leaving neighbors with puzzled looks. A legacy of Bill’s hands-on approach is that each of his kids learned a very “mature” vocabulary at a young age while listening to him work in the garage on many frustrating projects—those born of necessity rather than choice (and with five kids, there were many). Bill also took joy in working the grill when preparing a meal, ideally with his beloved “Muzak” style of “music” playing nonstop (much to the chagrin of those around him).
An unusual mix of adventurer and introvert with a touch of reserved mystery, Bill lived in the San Francisco Bay area for a dozen years before retiring to tour the country in an RV and later relocating to the Atlanta area, all experiences that helped him evolve as a person. He loved skiing Lake Tahoe. He went to Burning Man several times, always omitting the specifics about how he spent his days there, other than to say he rode his bicycle around the playa naked because “you have to participate, not just observe” without revealing the real story. He enjoyed being a private pilot and coveted the time he spent flying his Cessna 172. An avid motorcyclist, Bill often biked across the USA solo and sometimes with others, including his kids. He loved to write, too, workshopping his short stories with several creative writing groups until he no longer could and publishing several of them.
Bill made enormous personal sacrifices to open doors for his kids, living a minimalistic lifestyle and, with Pat, repeatedly re-mortgaging their home to help fund part of each child’s education. Bill’s children remain eternally grateful for all that he (and Pat) gave of themselves, and gave up, to make sure their kids could lead safe and fulfilling lives.
The family held a memorial service in Flemington, New Jersey. In his honor, please consider donating a few bucks to the Department of Veterans Affairs, which provided Bill with great and compassionate care.
