Gary Wayne Van Atta

Gary Wayne Van Atta passed away very early on a Friday morning in March 2024, in Ormond Beach, Florida. I received a call that morning that Gary had passed, and while it wasn't completely surprising, it still didn't seem possible. His passing was the end of an era that I wasn't prepared to let go.
Gary left behind many friends like me, because he was so generous with himself. He was open, witty, sincere, and he usually had a story to tell. Sometimes we'd heard that story many times, but we still listened just like it was new. We loved him, we knew his flaws and saw the beauty of his soul. This is a tribute to him, even if it's late. We don't think Gary would mind.
Gary was born in the early 1950's at Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis to Wayne and Juanita (Still) Van Atta who were lifelong residents of Indiana. In his early years, his family lived on the West side of Indianapolis. I can imagine him playing games on those narrow streets, as kids did back then, playing countless hours into the evening, trading cards, stories, and legends. He went to public school #47 which sat inside the loop of interstate 465, near the airport, and among many post war square neighborhoods and industries. This area was and is known for the honest, hardworking class of citizens like his parents and it was sometimes called "the valley." The White River that bisects the city follows alongside what is now interstate 69 and forms the valley in which West and Southwest Indianapolis are located. Gary, his sister Terry, and parents lived in the valley until they moved to Greenwood just before his first year of high school. In Greenwood, he played football, grew tall and strong, and graduated from nearby Center Grove High School in 1969.
After graduation and for the remainder of his working life, Gary was mostly a factory man, and his first long-term work came after odd jobs as a young man with the Stewart Warner company. Stewart Warner was a major manufacturer located in multiple locations within the West and Southwest areas of Indianapolis. Gary worked in production control from 1975 until 1990 and where he became a leader in his area of work, and he fostered and mentored others. Gary was not type of man who worked hard just to gain power or authority; he was the type of man who just worked hard and was respected for his loyalty and integrity. His Stewart Warner friends, like Bob, Dave and Steve, recall him very fondly. Bob remembers working for Gary from the summer of 1980 to early 1984 after having met him at a holiday gathering, and meeting Gary's late wife Shirley, who he felt was an "important and centering person in Gary's life." Steve, who also worked at Stewart Warner, credits Gary for teaching him "everything he knows about production control." Steve also cherishes their friendship, his kindness, working together during challenging times and easy times, and Gary being such as great man to him. And Dave probably knew him the longest, over 45 years; Gary was the best man at his wedding. One can easily hear the love of him in their stories and feel the warmth and respect each of them has for him, as I do.
When Stewart Warner closed its Indianapolis operations, Gary's ended his tenure there and started a new career in late 1989 at Indiana Precision Technology, or IPT, in Greenfield. I also worked at IPT and one day in early 1990 Gary approached me while driving a forklift and returned the college class ring that I'd recently lost. I remember shaking his hand and telling him he'd made a friend. I also remember just feeling grateful to have it back, and so grateful that a person was honest enough to return it. That was the first day of our meeting, and friendship endured until he passed.
Gary loved to get together with friends after work and talk about sports, especially football which he loved, Indiana University basketball, his home, "Shirgar Ridge Farm." He loved that Martinsville farm, a place he and his wife had built over the years, quaint and beautiful, rustic, a true home. And home to his animals that he thought of as his babies. He once told me there were seventy-seven different animals; peacocks, hens, horses, dogs, cats, would surround him as he spoke to each of them. He truly loved them all.
We built a deep friendship over the years, getting together after work and bonding over the stresses of life, relationships, and sometimes heartache. Gary's friendship was vital to me over those years; it provided support through many difficult times in my work life and personal life. When I needed him, or he needed me, we would always make time for each other. He was like an older brother to me, he felt things deeply and he wasn't afraid to show his emotions or share his experiences and wisdom. That's why he made friends easily and kept them -- we knew his friendship was real and solid like stone. We knew he meant the words he spoke, and his tears and hugs were just as genuine, rising from his gentle, molten soul.
Gary left IPT in the early 2000's during the time that business conditions were tightening, operations were moving to Mexico and South America, and long-time employee jobs were deemed "no longer in the budget." We stayed in touch as much as possible afterward, but Gary's life had been upended, my life was overloaded with responsibilities, and change was inevitable.
To be most truthful Gary often spoke of greener pastures, starting fresh, he would romanticize about moving to the mountains or just "South" of cold Indiana. He'd say he one day he would be "out of Dodge." I, we, didn't take him too seriously as he'd lived in Indiana his entire life, but during the years between 2010 and 2015 Gary and I lost track of each other. His old friends and sister, Terry, and I have spoken more recently about where he went and when in those years, but the exact details aren't clear. He in fact did leave "Dodge" and went to Tennessee for a period of time and returned to Indiana at times as well as he was still married. I can only imagine that he was trying to earn a living but living a life of change, travel, and loneliness too.
I found him again several years ago now, probably around 2016, by finally locating his cell phone number from a common acquaintance. Gary and I reconnected and talked for hours, as if no time had passed it all. That's how it goes between good friends and family - years apart feel more like days, like almost no time passed at all. He was living in Port Orange, Florida, had retired, and was living a quiet life not too far from the Atlantic Ocean. He had a little dog as a companion, would travel to Indiana somewhat often, catch up with family and friends, and he seemed happy. As the next few years passed, I learned that he had become a devout Christian, and sadly that his wife, Shirley, passed in 2017. He would tell me countless times that she was the "love of his life" and the only woman he really every loved. (I visited Gary and Shirley on their farm in Martinsville, Indiana, in the past. I got to know Shirley fairly well and found her to be a kind, intelligent, quiet, introspective, artistic, and proud woman. Shirley loved her son, her family and was very giving of herself to others.) Her passing profoundly affected him, changed him; I sensed the contentment had gone and he spoke with more seriousness, and sorrow.
I wish I could say that our relationship, once reconnected, was consistent but it wasn't. I would get calls from him at times, sometimes just to say hi, or that he might be in Indiana visiting, or he had just visited and I missed him, but he and I being together in one place never happened. In the last few years of Gary's life, it's my belief that he was seeking something, love, stability, companionship, to replace the loss, to heal himself. From the writer Anne Lamott, about losing a spouse: "...It's like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly - that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you have to learn to dance with the limp." I think Gary was trying to dance, but perhaps the song had been played.
Gary was an older brother, a drinking buddy, a funny, mischievous human who had a heart made of pure gold. We had great times, we had evenings that I now hold as dear and still think of often. Gary was soft and hardened, he was experienced and longing to share his wisdom. He was a shadow in the night sometimes, but the first one at your side in the light. I know from his nurses that he passed peacefully, in loving care. I think he passed just the way he would have wanted, somewhere out there, cloaked in a little mystery, and having the last word.
Gary is survived by his older sister, Terry, who may not have seen him as often as both would have liked, but loved him just the same. He is also presumably survived by his one son, Brand. They had been estranged since Brand was young, but Brand was the one name I heard throughout my friendship with Gary; Gary never stopped loving him. Gary left countless friends behind, from Stewart Warner, IPT, old school friends, and those he helped or touched in some way. In 2024, he joined Shirley, the love of his life, and he is finally, truly home.