As the date of departure drew close—August 27—Hurricane Irene also drew close. The media certainly overhyped the hurricane as the “storm of our lifetime” for the northeastern coast of the U.S. I compulsively checked the Carnival site throughout the week before the appointed day. Nothing listed—no delays, no cancellations—nothing about our cruise until two days prior when it became clear the itinerary would change. We’ll stop at Halifax first, then St. John, because Hurricane Irene would come very close to, if not hit, St. John. “No problem,” I thought. “Carnival must have meteorologists on staff who will know how this is going to play out.” Denial is a very strong emotion.

The day before we set sail, on Friday, August 26, we received a notice from Carnival that we should arrive early at the cruise terminal in New York—they moved up the departure time from 5 pm to 3 pm. So it was clear the cruise would actually take place. I wasn’t too worried, but I kept thinking, “That storm is 500 miles across, and the swirling bands are already reaching up to New Jersey and perhaps even off the coast of New York.” But denial is a strong emotion. No way were we going to forfeit the money we paid and not turn up! If Carnival canceled, we could get a refund. Otherwise, we would be out the money if we didn’t go. In retrospect, I would have gladly given up that money.

Saturday arrived and we left for New York, a three and a half hour journey from our home in the Binghamton, NY area. I won’t bore you with details of arriving and embarking—it’s a lot like boarding a large jetliner with long lines and security checkpoints. Once we were on the ship and in our room, we were so excited! The room, on deck 8, was large and well appointed. We had our very own balcony, something I paid quite a bit extra for.

We snapped pictures from the balcony of our room, looking right up some of the streets of midtown Manhattan as we waited to leave. As I snapped those pictures and gazed at Manhattan, I couldn’t help but notice the gray clouds hovering across the city, obscuring some of top floors of the tallest buildings. A light rain had started to fall. But denial is a strong emotion. What I was looking at, and frankly could not accept, was the beginning effects of Irene—right there in New York before we had even left port.

The ship finally departed around 3:20 pm and we cruised gently down the Hudson River, past spectacular views of buildings. I love New York and seeing it from the river is one of the best ways to see it. We floated past the Statue of Liberty. And then we were called to our posts for a mandatory safety lecture—so we would know how to use our life preservers and which life raft to hop aboard should it become necessary.

The safety lecture ended around 4:30 pm. By 5 pm, the pitching and rolling of the ship began. We were on the ocean and now located in the very edges of Hurricane Irene as it moved up the coast. How do I describe what we experienced? The first thing you notice is that you cannot walk two steps without stumbling like a drunk. Your hands fly out to grab whatever you can to steady yourself. In the cabin, where Judy and I decided to park ourselves thinking maybe this would only last a few hours, the dresser drawers flew open. I shut them. A few minutes later they were all open again. I shut them. The cycle repeated enough times that Judy told me to “Just leave them open!”

I also noticed glass cups and other items on flat surfaces were moving around—sliding back and forth. The little card with wet bar prices hooked around the knob of the mini-fridge rocked from side to side like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.

It felt like we were on a small roller coaster rocking side to side and pitching up and down. Every now and again we hit a wave that would cause the ship to lurch (and our stomachs to lurch with it). The ship would also shudder and vibrate as if a giant hammer had wacked it on the side. I later heard from another passenger that the swells outside were over 30 feet—no idea if that’s true or not. But I can believe it.

I kept telling Judy, “We’ll outrun this! Just hold on honey, in no time at all it will be a distant memory.” I mean, Carnival wouldn’t intentionally run us through a hurricane just for the almighty buck would they? Denial is a strong emotion.

In addition to the pitching and rolling, as the night wore on, the howling of the wind outside grew louder. After a few hours of the rocking motion, and perhaps complicated by the poor quality food we were served buffet style after arriving on board, Judy got violently sick. She vomited several times that first night. We elected not to attend dinner but instead stayed in our cabin. She could eat nothing. She could do nothing but stay in bed. I joined her around 9 pm, trying to get sleep. Judy was up by 10, vomiting again. This was not your ordinary vomit but the “puke your guts out” kind—the kind where you hurt and are exhausted because of the effort it takes.

I called the infirmary at that point, shortly after 10 pm, and no one answered the phone. I tried repeatedly for more than a half hour, but got no answer. Must have been after hours—or perhaps they were too busy helping others.

I stayed up most of the night to monitor Judy—she was sick, flat in bed. Every time we would doze off the ship would lurch and wake us up. I got virtually no sleep the first night—maybe an hour or two at most.

The sun came up on Sunday, and when we looked out the window of our balcony we saw clouds, rain and big waves. And the rocking continued. Judy vomited again Sunday morning. This time I did raise someone at the infirmary who told me to order seasick pills from room service. So I did.
I won’t belabor the point any more. The hard seas lasted until about 5 pm on Sunday, almost 24 hours exactly from the time they started until you could once again walk down a hallway without stumbling.

Because the seas calmed down, and because of the seasick pills, by Sunday night Judy could finally eat crackers and not vomit. We continued to stay in our cabin. By Monday, she was returning to normal and we started to venture out—we hadn’t even toured the ship yet and had no idea where anything was!

The rest of the cruise? It was OK. The food was terrible—and I do mean gross. We have always heard others rave about the food on cruises. Not on this one! Other passengers we spoke to complained about the food as well.

The entertainment was perhaps the one saving grace of the rest of the cruise. We enjoyed several live musical performances over the remaining cruise. We did get off at Halifax—which was our one and only stop. We spent a few hours Monday night and most of Tuesday touring the beautiful city of Halifax.

Our visit to St. John was canceled because we spent so much time trying to outrun Hurricane Irene, we didn’t have enough time to make it to St. John. Fine by us! We only wanted to get back.

By Monday, it was clear that we had wasted our money on the cruise. It was also clear that Carnival knew the seas would be rough and someone in management made a decision to send the cruise out—into Hurricane Irene—anyway. Shame on that person and shame on Carnival for sending out a boatload of people on a journey they knew would be half wasted in rough seas.

I don’t expect an apology from Carnival. I’m not writing this account to get one. I took a risk, a risk that Carnival would do the right thing by its customers. They did not. So I lost the gamble, all of my vacation money, and five days of my life, on what should have been a happy celebration of our 25th wedding anniversary.

I seek nothing from Carnival—least of all a “complimentary” cruise of my choice. I will NEVER set foot on a Carnival “fun ship” again. I publish this account as a warning to anyone considering a cruise on Carnival. Take your money, and your time, to a cruise line that actually cares about its customers and doesn’t send them out into a hurricane just to make a buck.

Will Judy and I ever go on another cruise? Not likely. At least not any time soon—until this bad memory has had time to fade. Hopefully in the future I’ll listen to my inner voice and not deny what’s right before my eyes.

Laurie decided to give up her acting career and instead attend Liberty University, which is where I met her. We were both on the same singing team (called SMITE back then).

On occasion she would help me with my homework when we were on the road traveling almost every weekend to sing in different churches. Our team of a dozen singers criss-crossed the south in a big Silver Eagle bus. I’ll never forget, Laurie once helped me with an English assignment – she helped me understand what Hemingway’s "Hills like white elephants" short story was talking about.

After college Laurie got married, became a homeschooling mom, and sadly she passed away at age 49 (in 2007) from cancer. She was one of the nicest and humblest people you would ever meet, and it was a privilege to have known her for a brief time in the 80s.

I attended grade school in New Berlin, New York. For the uninitiated who don’t live in Chenango County, New Berlin is pronounced “new-BERL-in,” and most definitely not “new-ber-LIN.” In grade school one of our favorite field trips was to nearby Hunt’s Pond State Park. By state park standards Hunt’s Pond is small. It’s a wooded area with a 20-acre pond in the center and just 16 campsites scattered around it.

In the fourth grade we went on a field trip to Hunt’s Pond. Fishing and fossil hunting were two of our favorite activities. Following that trip, all fourth grade students had to write an essay detailing our experiences. Although I no longer have a copy, my essay along with one other, was chosen by my teacher to be printed in the local weekly newspaper, The New Berlin Gazette. As you can imagine, for a 10 year-old boy having your words printed in the newspaper was about the biggest deal in the world. Although other events would come along to influence my path to writing, my Hunt’s Pond essay was the fork in the writing road for me.

So it’s with some sadness I noted recently that a number of New York State Parks, including Hunt’s Pond State Park, have been closed because of state budget shortfalls. I won’t wax political in this post, but it seems to me there are many other places the state could save money other than closing parks.

Regardless of whether it’s open or closed, Hunt’s Pond will always have a special place in my heart.

—–

Woishnis Eulogy

My name is Jim Willis and I had the privilege and pleasure of working with and for Bill from April of 2000 until September of 2006. I would like to take a few minutes to share with you a few of my memories about the man I came to cherish as a good friend.

One of my earliest memories of Bill is when I first started working at William Andrew Publishing (before I changed seats to work for Knovel). The first week I started, Brent Beckley and I traveled to Norwich from the Chenango Bridge office to have meetings. Brent and I went to lunch with Bill and Chris Forbes. I remember in the car on the way to Fred’s Inn that we talked about how William Andrew and Knovel had wound up being in the little city of Norwich. Bill loved Upstate New York and Norwich, but in the car that day he said, “You know, Norwich is a nice town, but it’s too darned white and it’s too darned Republican!”

For those of you who don’t know me, my Republican roots run deep, and I grew up in Norwich! I remember thinking at the time, “Oh man, what I have gotten myself into?” Bill was a confirmed, liberal Democrat. And I, a confirmed conservative Republican. But over the years and the many political discussions we had, Bill and I became good friends. You know why? It was because of Bill. He didn’t let political philosophy get in the way of business or friendships. Bill was one of the most open-minded people I’ve ever known–always ready and willing to hear an opposing viewpoint. Never quick to criticize or judge. Willing to try and see things from someone else’s perspective. That was Bill Woishnis.

Bill, like all of us, was a complex person. Sometimes he was passionate and would argue and debate vigorously. I recall some of those debates and no doubt you who worked with him do as well. One time our marketing team had a meeting in which Bill was in his passionate mode. In an email the next day to Leslie Lees and Delores Meglio, two of our colleagues in the meeting, he said this:

Dear Leslie and Delores:

I apologize for letting my passion get the most of my normally tempered reaction (at least I like to think this is the case) to things this morning.  Better communication of my positions and vision is something that I owe you and will do my best to deliver.  Please know that I think the world of both of you and highly value the experience, high level thinking and perspectives you bring to me and Knovel.

Sincerely,
Bill

Other times Bill was a quiet peacemaker and very affirming. I recall being quite upset about a few matters at one time and I sent Bill a rather terse email about it. This was his response:

Jim,

Thanks for raising these issues. Let’s talk more about these and other things that affect you personally in person next Tuesday. It is important to me, and always has been, that you find your proper home at Knovel – from the perspectives of both personal satisfaction and contribution to Knovel. You have so much to offer and I know the road has been a little bumpy at times for you.

I hope you read this message in the positive light it is meant.

Thanks,
Bill

Bill was sometimes passionate, sometimes a peacemaker, often affirming…and he always cared deeply about William Andrew Publishing and Knovel. I found an email a customer once sent to Bill following his presence at the National Plastics Exposition trade show in Chicago. The subject line says, “We love your service” and said this:

Bill,

I just wanted to touch base with you and let you know that as a result of your presence at NPE, a lot of us here at GE Plastics, Mt. Vernon, IN are happily using your service.

We met briefly, and you showed me your website at the trade show. I was happy to learn that our company is a subscriber (through our technology center in India). I sent out a mass e-mail to the other folks on site, and I have heard a lot of response from people who had no idea that we had access. So, even though you did not gain a new corporate subscriber per se, you increased the hit rate quite a bit from our company. Hopefully we will continue the subscription.

Thanks very much,
Donna Bossman, Ph.D., GE Plastics

Bill was also contemplative. I recall on many occasions in one of our (it seemed never ending) meetings, Bill would often put his head down, sometimes propped in his hands with his elbows on the table, and just listen as the rest of us would yammer on and on jockeying to share OUR insights with the other people in the room. And then, suddenly from nowhere, Bill would offer a comment or opinion, and it was inevitably brilliant. Bill had the habit of letting others talk more than he did–a habit far too many of us have not yet mastered.

Other things I remember…I can’t tell you how many times over the years, when recounting how William Andrew Publishing got started, Bill would say that he was an “accidental publisher.” That when the company first started by offering in essence “printed databases” he didn’t even realize they were in the publishing business. “It just kind of happened,” he would say.

Another thing Bill would often say when we were talking about mobile technology, and ebooks and the like, “You know, if paper were invented today and not a thousand years ago, it would be heralded as the greatest invention in mobile technology ever!” And you what, he was right! Bill thought deeply about publishing and the business we were in. He cared passionately about it. He understood it like few others. And he was brilliant, truly talented in so many ways.

But Bill Woishnis was also deeply, deeply personal and thoughtful. He connected with people on a personal level. And he kept people first and foremost as his priority. Here’s just one example, taken from an email when one of our marketing people, Jeri-Anne, got married…The subject line was “A newlywed amongst us”:

A newlywed is amongst us in Knovel’s marketing group. In Jeri-Anne’s honor, there are pastries and fudge (for those who don’t eat wheat) in the kitchen. But before you partake, it is required that you first congratulate Jeri-Anne and wish her a life of connubial bliss. Congratulations Jeri-Anne!!!!

William Woishnis
Chairman, Knovel

Bill brought the fudge specifically for Jeri-Anne because she was newly diagnosed as having a food sensitivity to wheat gluten, which is found in almost all pastries and breads. That’s the kind of person Bill was…personal and thoughtful.

But perhaps above all, Bill Woishnis was about family. There was NOTHING more important to Bill than family. Jeri and Aidan were tops to Bill and he made that clear to anyone who knew him. He put high value on not only his own family, but other families too. Let me read you a short series of emails back and forth between Bill and myself from 2005:

Hi Bill,

If you have no objections… Ben [my son] is playing in a basketball game today at 3pm. I would like to leave after the management meeting to watch him. (It’s one of the few home games I can get to during his season.)

Thx,
Jim

Less than an hour later came back his response:

Jim,

In my opinion, nothing is more important than for you to attend your son’s game. If you need to leave the management meeting early, this is fine.

Bill

A few days later I sent this:

I want to thank you again. It’s a pleasure working with you Bill. By the way, Ben’s team won–quite handily. And Ben made a basket! Very special for me to have been there.

And Bill’s reply:

To have your young son get a basket – what a great feeling!

What a great feeling. Bill Woishnis, it’s a great feeling to have known you, my friend.

Someone once told me something I’ll never forget: You know who your true friends are when you leave a company…they’re the ones who stay in contact with you after you’re gone. Bill was that kind of friend. After he and I had both moved on from Knovel in late 2006 we stayed in contact. In fact, he and Brent Beckley and myself, and later Russ Richardson and Sasha Gurke would get together for lunch every few months. At either Zazous or the Lost Dog Cafe in Binghamton. You don’t have to guess who picked up the tab every time we had lunch. That’s right, it was Bill.

I cherish those lunches we had together. You can ask my wife Judy and she’ll tell you how I looked forward to them. Usually the first thing Bill would ask me about was my wife Judy and our children. And he would name them: Amanda, Ben and Zach. As our conversation would turn to work, he would ask how my job is going. And we would discuss the publishing industry…trends, what’s new and hot? Websites and search engines. Marketing of all kinds. We had some great discussions, but mostly we just enjoyed each others’ company.

I remember at one of our lunches earlier this year he recounted the Caribbean cruise he took this past winter with Jeri and Aidan and his in-laws. He told us about Aidan and him taking off and seeing the sights on the islands they visited because Aidan’s grandparents wanted to visit the shops and of course there was adventure to be had for a 12 year old! So Bill and Aidan would take off and have those adventures. Aidan, I can you tell you, he had a great time.

Lest I leave the wrong impression, Bill was human and he had his struggles as we all do. I’m not trying to make him out to be a saint. But you know, I consider Bill Woishnis about the closest thing you get to a saint on this earth. He really was that kind of man. Bill was the kind of man I aspire to be, the kind of person whom, just by being around him, you find yourself becoming a better person. That was Bill Woishnis.

In thinking about today, one of the questions I asked myself was this, “In the time I knew Bill, a little over nine years, what would I consider his greatest accomplishment?” I’m sure we all answer that question in different ways, but here’s how I answer it: Bill’s greatest accomplishment is sitting right here. If it were not for Bill Woishnis, for his life, for the way he loved people and put people first, we would not even know each other. We would not be here today honoring this great man’s legacy. Bill’s greatest accomplishment, his greatest contribution, is that he has bound all of us together. We are friends with each other because we were friends with Bill. We and our friendships with each other…are Bill’s legacy.

Below is his obituary. Rest in peace my friend.

In Memoriam

William Andrew Woishnis

Bill Woishnis, of Gilbertsville, New York, passed away suddenly on August 2, 2009.  Bill was born on September 27, 1958 in Springfield, Massachusetts, to Jean (Biergel) and Joseph Woishnis.  He attended Cathedral High School, and graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering from Worcester Polytechnic Institute (WPI).  He studied acting briefly, while pursuing a career in science.  He worked as a plastics engineer for Hewlett Packard in the early nineteen eighties and then founded his own company, William Andrew Publishing, based in Norwich, N.Y., in 1990, with its seminal applied-science series, the Plastics Design Library.

A visionary whose innovations largely shaped today’s electronic publishing industry, Bill co-founded, in 1999, Knovel Corporation ,a groundbreaking data driven science and engineering information service.

Throughout his years with both companies, Bill worked with his wife Jeri Wachter, and a team of devoted publishing professionals, who together produced many applied science books, series, and databases by and for scientists around the globe, in fields such as environmental remediation, wild animal preservation, electronics, plastics design and, most recently, nanotechnology.

Bill was a devoted husband, and a “dreamingly wonderful father” according to his son, Aidan Arthur, who at the age of thirteen is a beautiful reflection of Bill’s true self. He will be missed greatly by his family, friends, and colleagues, who spoke of him as a kind, gentle, and devoted man.  Bill is survived by his wife Jeri, his son Aidan, by his parents Jean and Joseph Woishnis, as well as one brother, Joseph, and six sisters;  Jeanne Gavrin, Barbara Moriarty, Mary Lee Bertrand, Carol Mentos, Beth Chianciola,  and Mary Beth Sutton. He is also survived by nephews and nieces: Jeanne, Monica, and Andrew, Aaron, Eli, Ian, Kiri, David, Daniel, Tommy, Billy, Christina, Brian, Brittany, Benjamin and Yeecel, all of whom he loved dearly.  Bill was also a wonderful son-in-law to Arthur  and Lois Wachter, and a caring brother-in-law to Jan’Ann and Greg Liberman.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be sent to Catskill Area Hospice or the S.P.C.A.

A private service for family will take place on Wednesday. Condolences may be sent to P.O. Box 289, Gilbertsville, NY, 13376.  A memorial service will follow at a later date.