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Roberto "Bobby" Villarreal
1936 - 2018
Roberto "Bobby" Villarreal
1936 - 2018
Obituary
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Roberto Villarreal Obituary
(Bobby Villarreal)
1936 - 2018
Bob Villarreal was a lover. He loved his God, his family, his church, his friends. He loved life.
He looked for any excuse to get outside, be it hunting, basketball coach, baseball, camping, fishing, backpacking, or river running. He played Bridge furiously, and read continuously. He taught the first wine-making class in Idaho Falls, Idaho. He organized bringing several tons of grapes into town and a day was spent crushing everyone's grapes with one small crusher. A slow process, so the time was passed in sampling the previous year's products, and a good time was had by all.
Bob was born in the tiny town of Gila, New Mexico. He graduated from Cliff High School – the graduating class of 9 boys. He put himself through college and graduated from New Mexico State University in 1959 with a BS Degree in Chemistry. He then spent three years in the Army. During that period, he met and married his wife, Roberta. They were married almost 58 years and had four children, Robin, Rosellen (Fred Price), Michael, and Matthew (Hillary). They now have four of the most extraordinary grandchildren the world has ever seen. (As do all grandparents.)
Upon discharge from the Army, Bob started working for Argonne National Laboratory West, in Idaho Falls, Idaho in 1962, as a Research and Experimental Chemist and Nuclear Reactor Operator. During his time there, he acquired an advanced degree in Chemistry through the University of Idaho. He worked at Argonne for 29 years, reaching the level of Analytical Laboratory Manager, until retirement.
He then came to Los Alamos National Laboratory in 1991 and worked there as a Section Leader and Team Leader and continued to work as a Nuclear, Analytical, Instrumental and Radiochemist until his retirement in 2008, after which he continued for a period as a guest scientist.
Bob had an extensive list of over 100 technical reports and publications. He received numerous achievement awards for innovative performance, including the Director's Distinguished Performance Award for an Individual from both Argonne National Laboratory and Los Alamos National Laboratory, and was honored with the DOE Analytical Laboratory Manager's Hall of Fame Award.
In December of 1996, Bob fulfilled a dream to be ordained as a deacon in the Roman Catholic Church for the Archdiocese of Santa Fe. He served at the Immaculate Heart of Mary Parish and loved working with people of the Los Alamos community and surrounding areas. A priest commented to Roberta, in some surprise, "the people love him, so." She replied, "Of course they do, he loves them." He was known for his thought provoking homilies that included stories from when he was growing up in the Gila Country. His stories were noted both for their entertainment value as well as their length (they were a little long.)
In 1977, he became a key participant in the research of the Shroud of Turin. Using his skills in analytical chemistry and research, he became internationally known as a speaker and researcher in the study of the Shroud. One of his greatest achievements was helping to indicate the seeming inconsistency of the carbon dating of the Shroud, with the cloth, when it was determined the sample of the threads tested came from patches sewn into the shroud after a fire had damaged the cloth. Those samples tested were found to be not from the actual burial cloth. He had a strong passion for his work with the Shroud and spent many hours tying the cloth to the Gospels.
He was preceded in death by his parents, Julian and Clara Villarreal, one brother Guillermo who died as a child, and grandchild Steven who died at birth. He is survived by this wife, four children, five grandchildren, two brothers, Julian (Patricia) and Steve (Jonnye) along with numerous nieces, nephews, grandnieces and grandnephews.
A Rosary Vigil will be held on Thursday, March 15, at 7 pm at Immaculate Heart of Mary Parish in Los Alamos. The funeral will be held at IHM on Friday, March 16 at 10am. Interment will follow at Guaje Pines Cemetery in Los Alamos, followed by a reception luncheon at the IHM Parish Hall.
In lieu of flowers the family suggests donations be made to The Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson's Research or the Immaculate Heart of Mary Christian Concerns Committee.
To plant trees in memory, please visit the Sympathy Store.
6 Entries
Robin Villarreal
March 11, 2021
Miss you, Dad!
Robin Villarreal
March 19, 2018
I am Robin Villarreal. I am Bob's oldest child. I just wanted to share a few memories of my father..
To say that my father was a colorful character is an understatement; better would be - a modern Renaissance Man. He wore so many different hats!
His favorites were: Husband, Dad, Grandpa, Brother, Uncle, Cousin, Nephew, Friend
But also: Bobby V, cowboy, athlete, rancher, fire fighter, soldier, chemist, ping pong hustler, hunter, fisherman, back packer, camper, wine maker, enchilada expert, hitch hiker driver, white water rafter, softball coach
And, earthworm farmer, early bird, fashion icon, science fair guru, skit actor, gold prospector, snake hater, nippy napper, Shroud of Turin Expert and Deacon. The list goes on
Bob grew up in Gila, New Mexico with 3 brothers and many relatives in the Gila Valley; raised his family of 4 children in Idaho Falls ,Idaho; and returned to NM in 1992 to start his second career at Los Alamos National Laboratory. Some of my fondest childhood memories were our trips to see our grandparents, cousins, aunts & uncles in NM. Dad's lessons to us were done by example, by action. He didn't say we love family, he made sure we spent time with them. For many years that was our only vacation... once a year to New Mexico.
You will hear a lot that my dad was such a kind hearted man; which is very true... That is, until he had to be cooped up with his 4 children in the car for 24 hours to make our yearly sojourn to New Mexico to see our relatives. I clearly remember being surprised by this other dad who yanked my brother and sister out of the car on at least a few occasions to give them what for. On the other hand, the drive from Idaho to New Mexico was fun in part, because dad would quiz us about things like state capitals and spelling words. I intentionally became quite an adept speller.
My dad seemed to come alive when he was in his home state. Our visits to New Mexico were magical. To this day, upon our arrival in New Mexico, I never knew if he was serious when he would tell us that Grandma and Grandpa didn't know we were coming - we were just going to show up. He would take us for hikes and tell gold mining stories. We went out often to look for gold and buried treasure. New Mexico was the only place I heard my father speak Spanish. When we stayed with Grandma V in Gila, we kids would go through the high school yearbooks and find all the Villarreal brother pictures. It was then that we learned that our dad had been a cowboy, and an athlete, and in FFA. He was even in the chemistry club.
Dad embraced his Hispanic heritage, but, surprisingly he did not share his first language with his children. His Spanish vocabulary lesson was limited to calling us you little mocositos (snotty nose kids), and the rare use of the term feo (ugly).
I was so excited to have my son Robert experience Gila. About 1994, when Robert was 2, we were at my Godfather Mingy's ranch there. Dad was striding ahead, which was his only speed, and I was trailing between him and Robert. As I hiked along, I happen to glance back and noticed a big old rattle snake coiled in the sand. First you have to understand, my dad hated snakes to the point that he considered garden hoses as potential enemies. In a low tone I said, Dad, there is a rattle snake and Robert is heading right for it. I don't want to yell and scare Robert. Dad, without skipping a beat, grabbed a rock, stepped closer to the snake, and nailed it. Dead on killed it. To this day, I still have the rattle and the snake skin.
When we were in grade school, my dad's true artistry came out. If we had done particularly well, after he signed our report cards, he would draw a smiley face; or better yet, a monkey face. Or even signed upside down. He liked to draw outside the lines. Even when he read books to us kids, he would change the words, and we would react with, Dad, that isn't what it says.
My dad's military career showed his spunk. If the sergeant misspoke his name (hard to believe someone in boot camp in California could not pronounce Villarreal) he refused to acknowledge his superior. The obligatory punishment meant nothing to dad, who possessed Popeye arms and could run all day long. This did not win him any favors, and yet, as I recall, he came away with the iron man award.
Dad was a trail blazer. When someone from our Church came to him to ask how he would fund-raise, he told them to do an enchilada dinner. He brought Hatch chile to Idaho Falls. This morphed into the major annual fundraiser for the Catholic school we had attended. He started the first wine making class in Idaho Falls. Many a grape crush was held, and much vino consumed.
My dad was not good at everything. The man could not sing. My mother described it as him having one note. But once again, as if in defiance, he sang that one note really loud.
He once told me that he had a few secrets. The first one was he never drank as much as everyone thought, even when he was the life of the party. The second was, he liked to unite people by being the focus of their attention. So sometimes his unique fashion sense was very purposeful. The part my mom added, was he held on to the fact that at one time bankers, who were all dressed up, denied his father a much needed loan, in a very unkind way. So my dad had it in his head that people who dressed for success, were not very nice so he never intended to follow suit, as it were. So he defied the notion that you had to dress for the next level you wanted to achieve in your career; because, he was very successful. He worked at the Argonne Lab for 30 years and climbed the ladder of success. He retired as the Manager of the Analytical Lab and had an interesting reputation. A health physics tech told me he was considered one of the untouchables. She told me this in awe. When I asked dad about it, he said he could get away with things others couldn't because he didn't make mistakes. When I started working at the INEL, someone came to me and described how my dad was at work. He said, your dad would be sitting at his office desk, almost in a trance. If you had looked closer, you may have even thought he was taking a nap; but then, he would stand up, go to the white board, and write out equations. It was almost rain-man like. These descriptions surprised me. This was not the man I knew. The man I knew raced on shopping carts with us kids down supermarket aisles. He talked about queek birds which was his mythological creature ranging from the size of a mosquito to a pterodactyl. He epitomized, often to the exasperation of my mother, being the fun dad. We kids had no idea that he was a very accomplished scientist. A few years ago I asked him what he considered his greatest accomplishments. He said that he was most proud of saving $14 million dollars at Argonne through his report on the duck pond. He also developed a means of identifying damaged fuel rods. He added, he was instrumental in bringing in $100 million in projects to LANL; and helped land the STTP $50-60 million WIPP project against 7 other national labs. He won Director Awards for his contributions to these projects.
My dad had some habits I picked up, such as a terrible sweet tooth. There was no passing a pecan, lemon meringue, or key lime pie. For years I ate Total cereal for breakfast, because my dad did. We shared a blanket, or buh-buh fetish. But we also shared a dedication to the Virgin de Guadalupe and had St. Anthony's ear on more than one occasion.
My father was also a collector; another habit I picked up. He collected pens, leather gloves, tape, rubber bands, Saucony tennis shoes, coins, paper tablets, blankets and (of course) books. Anyone who knows me knows if it is worth having, it is worth having three or more of it. Thanks, Dad.
Which brings me to another thought. Who keeps things forever? Oh, wait, Villarreal's do. When going through pictures, it was amazing to see that furniture we had in 1960 something, can be found in the loft today. Dad's tendency to hang on to everything runs deep in all his children, well me anyway, for sure.
I certainly did not inherit my father's passion to get up and speak; one of his greater qualities. He could really spin a tale. As a Deacon he even incorporated his tales, especially of Gila, into his homilies. He told me he thought one of his best abilities was painting a story with words. And that he did.
I learned many things from my dad. For example, girls can bait their own hooks and gut their own fish. We learned to appreciate the outdoors and enjoyed camping. I learned about a good work ethic when he decided we kids should be earning money; so he converted our backyard sandbox into a home for night crawlers. We would gather worms and put them in the milk boxes we collected from Holy Rosary Catholic Elementary school and sell them. He showed us, a good meal to cook is potato meat (usually elk) cheese surprise, which was his fall back meal during our childhood when he cooked. I learned it is best to take nippy naps with kitties, even when they run screaming down the stairs. I understood the value of education.
If you wanted to hang out with him, you got up early, because that's when he was stirring. He believed in going walk about. In Idaho this was really ride about. This started in Idaho in the 70's, when he would take my green bicycle with a basket, and without advance warning, show up at a friend's home, just to visit. Amazingly, he was always welcomed. In New Mexico, that turned to drive about, as he was always going to town for one thing or another.
Bobby V was many things to many people. My parents moved from Idaho Falls in 1992. I was 30 something. Until that point I was a member of our Catholic community as a child. As I gained adulthood, no longer being in their shadow, their friends became mine. Without exception, people remarked on my dad's intellect, his sense of fun, his spirituality and his value as someone to confide in. This struck me as so ironic, that my dad was known as the guy you would find to vent and seek counsel. When we were teenagers, the unwritten rule was mom did all the heavy lifting as far as the missteps and poor choices we made. Don't tell dad was kinda an unspoken sentiment. And, yet, so many people appreciated his listening ear and sage advice.
What I really learned from Deacon Bob Villarreal was a love of God and a deep spirituality. I followed in his footsteps in being active in our parish. We had many discussions that left me in the dust in his understanding of theology. I got to type many a document such as homilies that he had hand-written out. It was delightful to read his words.
We were not a touchy-feely family. I hardly recall us hugging. In my childhood memories, I don't recall hearing the words, I love youmaybe written, rarely spoken. But I certainly never once doubted my father's love. I never felt unloved or unwanted. As I grew up, I never felt like I had to earn his affection. He was that kind of man, you just knew he loved you. As a mother, I became uncharacteristically verbal about I love you's and especially in the most recent years delighted in my dad actually saying the words to me. In fact, those were his last words to me, I love you, Robin. Even though the words warm my heart, I bask in the feeling of knowing he loved me, not through his words, but through his heart. I hope we all get to experience that kind of love. I believe that his father's love to me is a taste of what God's Fatherly love is for us.
My dad led by example. Kindness mattered to him. Unlike me, my dad did not tear up easily. I do remember one occasion that he did, however. I had started working at the INL Lab as an accountant. He came to me and said, I was very worried about you, because people have said you were stuck upBut today, Dale Kilinski came to my office. My dad paused and choked up. He told me you wrote him a note about his son that you went to school with who committed suicide; Mr Kilinski was crying and said he wanted me to thank you for your kindness. By then, my dad was crying, and through his tears he whispered to me, I'm so glad you were so kind. That's what made my dad proud.
I have one more story. My father had the unique privilege of having actual fibers from the Shroud of Turin, the alleged burial cloth of Christ, because of his knowledge of and access to state of the art analytical equipment. He loved that when he asked other scientists to run tests without a charge number after their initial refusal, they came back for clarification, and did run the experiments. They confessed to him that it was the most important thing they had done at the lab. I had the opportunity of going to Spain with my dad to a conference in which he was a noted speaker, on the Shroud of Turin. Besides the enormous pride I felt and the fact that we got to be taken to the Village of Villarreal, I got to see my dad bask in being a rock star. Not many scientists get stopped and asked to have pictures taken with them. My dad's message was well received and his contributions were appreciated. What a gift.
In closing, my dad was without guile. The worst curse I ever heard him utter was, I muffed it up. He was never mean spirited. He focused on the positive. He held others in high regard. He was inclusive and respectful. He abhorred deception and hate. He rejected bitterness and regret.
I miss his hand-written letters. I miss when he called on the phone and always said, This is your dad, even when I answered Hi, dad. I am in awe of his intimate relationship with God. One more one more story. Three weeks ago, when I was here during the time my dad was in ICU, before he died, I asked him, Dad, why didn't we pray the Rosary as a family? Neither he nor my mom responded. But literally minutes later, a close family friend bopped into the hospital room, carrying, you guessed it, a Rosary.
I am my father's daughter. From him I learned unconditional love, love of family, kindness, generosity, compassion, even temperament, quiet defiance, determination, work ethic, competitiveness and love of God. I hope I will continue to make you proud, dad. I miss you.
Mary Beugelsdijk (MaryB)
March 16, 2018
I am so pleased to have had to opportunity to meet both Bob and Roberta -- both a pair who were a force to be given the honor of knowing. May Bob rest peacefully with his well earned eternal reward. I will be praying for Bob and his family in the days to come
Art and Anne Nobile
March 15, 2018
Bob was a beautiful person. We loved his homilies where he told fascinating stories of when he was growing up in the Gila. Yes, sometimes they were long, but I enjoyed every minute of them and I looked forward to hearing the next one. I still think about them. In one story he mentioned an occasion when his father was refused a loan by a banker who wore a tie. He was suspicious of people wore ties. I still think about Bob and this story when I put on a tie.
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Our Lady of Guadalupe, Taos (my photo)
Hal Frost
March 15, 2018
Roberta and family, please accept condolences from Bev and me. We knew Bob as Deacon and I knew you both as teachers of Karl Rahner's theology. My work at LANL connected to the EBR-II he was associated with at Idaho Falls. I was in the Army for three years, too, so understood where he was coming from, to serve others. Wishng you all the best.
gerald maestas
March 14, 2018
I got to know Bob when we served on the Citizen's Advisory Board which monitors the nuclear waste remediation effort. Super super guy. Straight shooter.
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