Published: November 9, 2001
NORMAL - Robert A. Feek, 59, of 1809 Hoover Drive, Normal, died at 5:49 p.m. Wednesday (Nov. 7, 2001) at OSF St. Joseph Medical Center, Bloomington.
His funeral will be 1 p.m. Saturday at Metzler-Froelich Memorial Home, Bloomington, the Rev. Scott Sherwood officiating. Inurnment will be at a later date. Visitation will be from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. Saturday at the memorial home.
Memorials may be made to McLean County Humane Society, Bloomington.
Mr. Feek was born July 26, 1942, in Normal, the son of Robert W. and LaVerne Apell Feek. He married Alice White on July 17, 1965, in Bloomington. She survives.
Other survivors include his parents, Normal; one son, Ryan A. Feek, Madison, Wis.; three daughters, Ashleigh (Glen) Hofmann, Colfax; and twin daughters, Alyssa and Amber Feek, both of Normal; and one brother, Donald (Mary) Feek, Bloomington.
Also surviving are three grandchildren, Reilly, Mitchell and Tate Hofmann, Colfax.
Robert was a member of the Brick Mason International Union. He had been working for Otto Baum, Morton.
He enjoyed fishing and he was an avid sports fan. He had served in the U.S. Navy. He was a loving son, husband, father, grandfather and brother. He will be missed by all who knew him.
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The following was written by classmates for our 50th Reunion Booklet. Led by a dedicated team of local classmates, the project was titled:
"BHS CLASS OF '60 FOOTPRINTS"
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Probably few knew that Bob Feek and I were first cousins; Even though we looked somewhat alike, we were quite different.
I lost touch with my cousin Bobby (the family called him that to avoid confusion with his Dad who had the same name) after graduation except for news that was passed between our mothers and then forwarded. It came as a shock when he died from a sudden heart attack that seemingly came without warning. I do have some vivid recollections of the times we spent together as kids, however.
One such memory is from a fishing trip to northern Wisconsin, when together with his younger brother, Buzzy, and our dads, we drove up for 10 days of fishing. I don’t have the patience for angling and Dad didn’t drink beer, so he wasn’t much of a fisherman either - but seeing something other than cornfields had a certain appeal. We must have been in our early teens at the time (1956?).
Somehow all the gear and 5 people were stuffed in Uncle Bobs Hudson Hornet and we drove north. The drive was uneventful except for listening to local AM stations and their DJs. Transfusion was the pop song of the day and by the time we arrived we knew most of the words and were “singing” along. I just checked it out – it was #62.
Canya believe 1956 had so many great songs – a mix of R&R, Blues, and Pop (was that the end of Swing? )
Anyway, the weather could not have been worse – it rained every day and the rivers and creeks were in flood stage. The fish were not biting in the lake our cabin was on and we were getting cabin fever. After a few days it became obvious that the weather was not going to improve so my uncle declared the next day we were going to hike to his favorite spot on a nearby river. It was called the Halfway Hole and he said the fish were always biting there. We bit.
Well, it was more of a wade than a hike. The forest was knee-deep in water that hid snags and tangles that caused me to plunge repeatedly into the murk. Uncle Bob, being the trailblazer, carried a compass but no gear – Bobby, Buzzy and I were the mules. Weighted down with tackle boxes, nets, and poles made getting up again a real challenge. My uncle was hard to keep up with and we instinctively knew that complaining would have little effect and bring into question our budding manhood, so it was all very quiet. I kept wondering about quicksand and leeches.
We never found the Halfway Hole – perhaps we waded through it several times. Bobby and I kept our eyes on Buzzy as he was 2 years younger and lagging behind… probably out of concern that if he went missing we would spend a couple of more days in the swamp trying to find him. Eventually we made it back to the cabin and the bottomless Crock Pot of homemade chili that brought us back to life. The next day we recuperated and rowed the boat around the lake. We took the fishing poles as an excuse to use the boat. I think it was Bobby’s idea to see if we could snag some of the bullfrogs that had been keeping us awake at night. After some practice backing the boat up to lily pads we discovered that the frogs would sit still while we edged a treble hook under their chins. We filled a large bait can with what became a change from chili dinners.
The trip home was more top 20 and banging out Transfusion on the dashboard and seats of the car. Maybe Mom has pics of the frogs we caught – Bobby, Buzzy, and I are holding their back feet and the front ones are almost touching the ground.
Ill see about the pics at Xmas time. I will never forget the chili, song, or the time spent with Bobby Feek.
(Ron Doss)
The middle of senior year, Bob recruited me to play on his intramural basketball team. I guess I was sort of flattered that he thought I was a good player. We had gotten to know each other in P.E. class, where we played a lot of informal basketball. Bob and I were the only seniors on the IM team; the rest were juniors or sophomores. Our team probably had a name, but I cant remember it. As luck would have it, we won the IM championship that winter.
Bob took the role of captain pretty seriously; he expected us to play hard and with focus. He led by example--not only was he a very good player, he was also extremely competitive. He was in it to win it, as the kids say nowadays.
Feek was a really good player. He was strong and a tenacious rebounder. I think he would have served our varsity team well. But he told me he had a part-time job and didn’t have the time to go to practice every day.
Bob was a good outfielder on the varsity baseball team and by the end of that winter, he convinced me to go out for Coach Saar’s team. Feek was a guy who took an interest in me and helped me have a better senior year than I would have had otherwise. I’ve always remembered that.
(Jim Bennett)