Wayne E. Wolf

Wayne Eugene Wolf, 78, of Robinson, IL, passed away on Thursday, January 22, 2026, at Ascension St. Vincent Hospital in Evansville, IN. He was born on December 11, 1947, right here in Robinson, and he grew up here, too, the quiet kid who was eleven years younger than his sister and content to keep a lot to himself. But give Wayne something with an engine, and you started to see his real personality come through. As soon as he got his driver's license, he was into cool cars. It was more than transportation to him. It was interest, curiosity, and the satisfaction of understanding how something works.

That passion eventually expanded. When Wayne went to SIU Carbondale, he got into motorcycles, and it didn't take long before motorcycles became the thing. He didn't just ride them, he learned them. That passion is what led him to work as a motorcycle mechanic before he ever joined the Robinson Fire Department, and even after he got on the department, he never really stopped being the guy who could fix what other people couldn't. He worked on motorcycles and ATVs for friends and family for years, and he had the kind of mind that held onto details. He could still remember part numbers. He also raced motorcycles when he was a younger man, not because he was chasing a spotlight, but because he genuinely enjoyed it.

In 1978, Wayne joined the Robinson Fire Department, and he took the work seriously, because it is serious work. He had high standards, and he expected the people around him to do their absolute best, because when your life is on the line, you need to be able to rely on the guy next to you without hesitation. Wayne served as a training officer and was one of the first in that role, and while his expectations could make people bristle at times, they came from a place of conviction: details matter, preparation matters, and the job matters.

The standard he carried in the firehouse followed him into the community, too. For years, he was involved with the Toys for Tots program, helping provide toys for children in the area. He went above and beyond, including washing used toys so they could be given with dignity and joy to kids who needed a Christmas morning like everyone else. It wasn't glamorous work, but Wayne was never interested in glamorous. He was interested in doing it right. He also poured himself into the Elks Christmas Basket program, serving as chairman for a long time and helping make sure families had what they needed during the holidays. In time, Wayne was recognized as Citizen of the Year by the City of Robinson and as Elk of the Year, honors tied directly to all the behind-the-scenes effort he gave to Toys for Tots and the Christmas Baskets.

That same sense of responsibility showed up in another area of Wayne's life. A lifelong outdoorsman, he was a man who loved hunting and fishing and understood that the outdoors isn't just something you enjoy, it's something you respect. That's why, for years, he ran the hunter safety course, teaching young people and first-time hunters how to handle firearms safely and how to carry themselves with discipline. It fit him. Wayne didn't have much patience for carelessness, and he believed that if you were going to do something, you ought to do it the right way, especially when it involved other people's well-being.

Wayne could be gruff, and he could be blunt, but the motive was almost always the same. He cared too much to be casual about what mattered. And the people who understood that best were the ones who lived closest to him, his family. His boys knew they mattered to him. Wayne helped them more than they felt they deserved, and he did it without keeping score. He was always looking out for them, always trying to make sure they had what they needed, and always ready to step in, even when it would have been easier to let them figure it out the hard way.

When they were young, he showed up. He went to their games, their races. If he was not at the firehouse, he was there, quietly cheering them on. He didn't yell. He just took it in, proud of them, steady in the background, their biggest fan. He didn't just give them time. He gave them himself. He passed down the things he loved, too. The love of motorcycles became something they shared. Wayne might have joked that he wasn't the best racer, but he lit the fuse in his boys, and they were good at it. He loved seeing them do what they loved and do it well. That same sense of pride continued as his family grew. His grandkids became his "toads," and he was their "Papaw." There was frog stuff everywhere, because around his "toads," the soft side showed itself without apology.

But if you want the clearest picture of Wayne's loyalty, you look to Carol.

She was his one and only love, and he made sure there was space in life to simply be with her. For a long stretch of years, that looked like camping. They camped for about a decade, building a rhythm that brought them back to the same places, the same weekends, the same quiet joys. Another joy they shared was getting out on the open road. Carol would sometimes fall asleep on the back of the motorcycle, and Wayne installed a seatbelt to make sure she wouldn't fall off!

Ten years ago, when Carol had a stroke, Wayne became her voice. From then on, he showed up with the same devotion he had always given, only now it had a sharper edge of purpose. He came to see her nearly every day at the nursing home, often staying for hours at a time. Eight hours was not unusual, because he meant it when he promised "for better or for worse." That kind of devotion does not come out of thin air. It has a source. On the surface, it might surprise you to know Wayne was a God-fearing man. He could be gruff. He could be blunt. He wasn't always the one who wore his heart where everyone could see it.

But then you look at the way he loved.

Not with sentiment, but with action. With a steady willingness to seek the good of others, even when it cost him something. And once you see that, his faith starts to make sense. Wayne did not broadcast his walk with his Lord. He simply lived it. And now, the faith that steadied him has been made sight. The Bible he read so often is no longer a promise on a page. It is a reality before his eyes. The Savior he trusted is no longer known by belief alone, but by presence. The One he feared, honored, and followed is the One who has welcomed him home.

Wayne married Carol Meeks on July 2, 1971, and she survives. He is also survived by his sons & daughters-in-law, Sean & Kristin Wolf (Robinson, IL) and Scot & Jennifer Wolf (Terre Haute, IN); by his grandchildren & their spouses, Sheri Mehler, Troy & Emily Wolf, Mykala & Jeremy Carpenter, Grayson Wolf & Charlee Stewart, Emily & Caleb Dowell, and Kylie & Daniel Vermilya; and by his great-grandchildren, Lilly, Wyatt, Willow, Evelyn, Celeste, Lawson, and Ledger. He was preceded in death by his parents, Harold "Red" & Armeda (Sheese) Wolf, his sister, Carolyn Chapman, and several brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law.

A time of visitation will be held from 4:00 to 6:00 p.m. on Tuesday, January 27th, at the Goodwine Funeral Home in Robinson. Cremation will follow the visitation, and a private family graveside service will be held at a later date at the Robinson New Cemetery. Memorial contributions may be made to Toys for Tots, with envelopes available at the funeral home.