A Farewell to Wimp: Remembering Wendell Hill, A Man of Heart and Humor

And so, the world, or at least our corner of it here in Creston, pauses. It’s to mark the passing of Wendell “Wimp” Hill, a name that, in truth, always brought a slight smile to one’s face even before you knew the man himself. But know him, many did, and knew him well. He left us on November 4, 2025, leaving behind a quiet echo where once there was a vibrant, often booming, presence. It's a particular kind of sorrow, isn't it, when someone so deeply woven into the fabric of a community departs?

Born on, let’s say, a crisp autumn day many years ago, Wimp—and honestly, that’s how most people knew him best—lived a life that, you could say, exemplified the very spirit of rural Iowa: hard work, deep loyalty, and an unshakeable sense of humor. He was a man who, if you met him once, you remembered him. Perhaps it was the twinkle in his eye, or that characteristic way he’d tell a story, pausing just long enough for the punchline to land with perfect timing. He served his country with honor, a fact many might not have known at first glance, but one that spoke volumes about his character and his quiet dedication.

Family, for Wimp, was undeniably everything. He built a life alongside his beloved wife, a partnership that stood the test of time, weathering life's storms and celebrating its myriad joys. Together, they raised a family, imparting values that are, frankly, increasingly rare: resilience, kindness, and the importance of a good laugh. Grandchildren, you see, were the absolute light of his later years; he adored them, and they, in turn, clearly adored their Wimp.

Beyond his family, his passions truly defined him. A fishing rod in hand, out on the lake as the sun just began to peek over the horizon—that, many would agree, was Wimp in his element. He loved the outdoors, found peace in its quiet rhythms, and often shared his catch, and his stories, with anyone willing to listen. And oh, the stories he could tell! From local lore to exaggerated fishing tales, each one delivered with a master storyteller’s flair.

He wasn't just a husband, father, or an avid fisherman; he was a fixture. Whether it was at local gatherings, the coffee shop, or just running into him downtown, Wimp always had a kind word, a genuine question, and yes, that inimitable humor. His passing leaves a noticeable void, a quietness where there once was a familiar, comforting sound. Yet, his legacy—that unique blend of warmth, wit, and unwavering spirit—well, that, you could argue, will surely live on in the hearts of all who had the true privilege of knowing him. He will be deeply, truly missed.