Craig LeRoy (“Leh-Roy,” and don’t you dare pronounce it any other way) Whitaker.
Craig LeRoy Whitaker, 76, finally ran out of lives after spending decades proving he had more than any reasonable person should. If you knew Craig, you know this obituary almost writes itself, because Lord knows he gave us enough stories.
Craig was born Sept. 2, 1949, to Alfred and Audrey Griffin Whitaker. He grew up into the kind of man who could fix just about anything, tell a joke about everything, and somehow survive things that should have killed him years ago.
At 19 years old, still wet behind the ears, Craig joined the United States Navy and served during the Vietnam War. He witnessed things no young man should ever have to see.
Like many veterans of his generation, he came home carrying battles in his mind that few people understood and even fewer talked about. He spent years fighting those demons the only way he knew how-with a bottle in his hand.
Alcoholism was a part of Craig’s story, but it was never the whole story.
He was also one of the funniest men you’d ever meet. He could fire off jokes faster than most people could keep up. He was ornery, mischievous, and absolutely thrived on teasing people, especially those he loved most.
Nobody received more of that attention than Jackie Cline. Craig spent years tormenting the younger girl who lived nearby. Jackie couldn’t stand him. Naturally, she married him on April 1, 1972, proving that sometimes the greatest love stories begin with mutual annoyance.
Craig worked hard his entire life. He spent many years as a welder at Case and had a simple philosophy: if one job ended, he’d find another. There was never much time spent feeling sorry for himself. His children always had a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs, and food in their bellies. He wasn’t a perfect man, but he was the best dad he knew how to be while carrying burdens many never saw.
He loved fishing. He loved making things with his hands. He loved pulling pranks that ranged from mildly annoying to occasionally hazardous. He especially loved relentlessly teasing his wife, a hobby he practiced with Olympic-level dedication for more than 54 years.
Craig also taught his children lessons that mattered. Long before it was fashionable to have conversations about acceptance and equality, he made it clear that racism was ugly and that people deserved to be judged by the content of their character, not the color of their skin. He would give the shirt off his back to someone in need, whether he knew them or not.
After nearly dying from alcohol withdrawal, Craig made a decision that changed the rest of his life. He got sober because, as he put it, he wasn’t quite ready to die yet. In sobriety, his creativity flourished. A talented woodworker, he began crafting elaborate treasure chests decorated with beads, jewels, and every shiny thing he could find. He kept them in his truck and handed them out to children he met along the way. He adored kids. If there was a child nearby, there was a good chance Craig was teasing them, making them laugh, or handing them a treasure chest.
Craig was a man of faith. He wasn’t perfect, and he’d be the first person to tell you that. But he loved the Lord and made sure his children knew Him, too. Through all of life’s ups and downs, Craig believed there was grace for imperfect people, and he lived as proof of that every day.
Like most things in Craig’s life, even his attempts at healthy living came with their own unique style. At one point he decided he was going to start exercising. Residents around the area might have spotted him pedaling his bicycle all the way to Oakville with a cigarette hanging from his mouth-likely headed toward the White Elephant for a cold one. Health and fitness may not have lasted long, but the story certainly did.
In retirement, Craig and Jackie made their daily rounds together. No matter where the day took them, they often found themselves at D&E Grill enjoying a cold beer, a peanut butter cheeseburger, and solving the world’s problems with Earl. Craig never made a big deal about helping others, and he certainly didn’t brag about it, but he quietly became a regular busboy there, clearing tables and lending a hand whenever he saw something that needed to be done. That’s just who he was. If there was work to do, Craig did it.
He never met a stranger for long. He could strike up a conversation with anyone, tease just about everyone, and leave people laughing whether they wanted to or not. Underneath the jokes, the pranks, and the ornery exterior was a man with a generous heart who would gladly give the shirt off his back to someone in need.
Craig’s life wasn’t always easy, and it certainly wasn’t perfect. But it was full. Full of laughter, faith, hard work, second chances, fishing stories, treasure chests, practical jokes, and love for his family. He leaves behind a lifetime of memories and enough stories to keep people laughing for years to come.
Craig is survived by his wife and favorite target, Jackie Whitaker; his brothers Mike (Sue) and Rod (Dorothy) Whitaker, who are every bit as ornery as he was; his special fur babies Speckles and Max; his children Mindy Mingo, Toby (Patti) Whitaker and Kelli (Matt) Petersen; grandchildren Tanner (Connor) Tarvin, Daelyn (fiancé Keishawn Clegg) Henderson, Jaedyn Edle, Sophia and Caysen Petersen, Olivia, Camden, Isaiah, and Ryker Whitaker; great-grandchildren Ava, Audrey, Hazel, Bryson, and the newest family addition, affectionately known as “Cleatuce the Fetus,” expected this fall.
He was preceded in death by a baby who never made it earthside, his parents Alfred and Audrey Whitaker, his infant sister Clara, and his in-laws Willy and Deloris Cline, sister-in-law Bobbie Wendt, and Brother-in-law Kenny Johnson.
For a man who spent most of his life proving he had nine lives, Craig’s final act was fitting. Even at the end, he took his sweet time getting there.
Those who loved him will remember the jokes, the teasing, the fishing stories, the treasure chests, the stubbornness, the work ethic, and the heart beneath it all. He was complicated, hilarious, frustrating, generous, resilient, and impossible to forget.
And if you’re reading this and pronouncing his middle name “Lee-Roy,” he’d probably haunt you for it.
Rest easy, Craig. You’ve earned it.
A celebration of life will be held at a later date.