Born: 12/04/1943 Rutland, Vt. Died: 05/26/2026 Colchester, Vt. On May 26, 2026, William (“Bill”) Edward Eagan, Jr. passed from this world. Or, as the man who prized saying things just as they are would have put it — he died. Bill entered the world on December 4, 1943, t he son of Margaret Anne Garneau Eagan and William Edward Eagan. Separated by the ravages of war, like many of that era, father and son would not meet until well after Bill’s second birthday. World-defining conflicts also shaped his adolescence and young adulthood. But it was the promises of the Great Society that most defined him. These he believed in deeply and advocated throughout his entire life. Bill began his schooling in his mother’s one room schoolhouse in Castleton. An extremely bright only child, he skipped multiple grades. Soon, he graduated to Mount St. Joseph’s Academy in Rutland, then St. Michael’s College, where he earned a history degree. He would go on to obtain his master’s in history from the University of Vermont and, ultimately, a Ph.D. in Canadian History from the University of Western Ontario. From there, he embarked on a 30-plus-year teaching career at Moorhead State University. An educator through and through, he regarded his time in the classroom working with his students as some of most rewarding moments of his life. A born and bred Vermonter, he treasured his connection to the state where he was raised and to which he ultimately returned. He also felt a strong tie to his mother’s French-Canadian heritage. After his retirement, he spent almost 20 years living in Montreal, where he immersed himself in the language and culture while cultivating deep friendships. If you knew Bill personally, you knew that he was profoundly hard of hearing. This wasn’t the standard deafness of old age, but a lifetime affliction that began with a lifesaving act, one deeply emblematic of who he was. In April of 1957, Bill was out fishing when a young boy playing on a raft fell into Lake Bomoseen. Bill immediately dove into the icy waters and pulled him to safety, but the cold water ruptured his eardrums. Already prone to ear infections, this significant damage put him on a lifetime path of recurrent infections and scarring that resulted in catastrophic hearing loss by his 40s. A devoted cribbage player who made sure to pass his love of the game on to many of his grandchildren, life dealt Bill an often-mixed hand of cards. He was proud of his father’s role in fighting fascism but understood that the war had negatively impacted him. He felt that this, followed by not meeting his dad until he was a toddler, had a lasting impact on their relationship. Being pushed ahead in school as a young child and beginning college at the age of 16, while a tribute to his intellect, forever affected his comfort interacting with peers. These, combined with his hearing loss and the misunderstandings and frustrations that flowed from it, were a trifecta that resulted in a prickly exterior. Beneath this rough outer layer, however, was a caring and compassionate man who was devoted to the idea of a society that works for everyone, and who lived his convictions. During his time in Minnesota, he worked in local democratic politics and was active at many protests over the years, advocating for the rights of others and aiming to push our country to live up to its ideals. In his retirement in Montreal, he spent his time volunteering at the Carrefour, a local community center combatting isolation among senior citizens through enriching activities. As a volunteer, he taught English classes and eventually served as the organization’s president. This past decade, after returning to Vermont, he was distraught at the turn our country has taken. He felt deeply the encroachment on individual rights and our democracy, as well as the pain inflicted on those who have been targeted and detained. Determined to make his voice heard until the end, he attended every protest that he could, even if it meant he was there in a wheelchair and on oxygen. When his health and life circumstances limited his mobility, he staged one man protests outside his assisted living facility on Williston Road. If you ever drove by and saw a man with protest signs standing with a walker, that was Bill standing up for his rights, and for yours. When he entered hospice and could no longer endure roadside protests, his signs lined his room, and he offered them to anyone who could take them to the protests he could not attend. In this way, he embodied his Vermont roots and his most deeply held commitments until the very end. No life is perfect, and Bill encountered many speed bumps and unexpected detours along his route. But, no matter what life threw at him, he held fast to the conviction that we all need to stand up for our neighbors regardless of their color, creed, or position in life. He could be a bit rough-edged with his fellow humans on an individual level, but he believed in the best of humanity with all his heart. And, if you took the time to get to know him it, it didn’t take long to realize that there was no bite behind the bark. He leaves behind two sons, a daughter, a daughter-in-law and a son-in-law, as well as eight grandchildren who were his world until the very end and who miss him immensely. As he reflected on his life this past year, he often borrowed a line from Jimmy Buffet — “some of it’s magic, and some of it’s tragic, but I’ve had a good life all the way.” Read the story on VTDigger here: William Eagan. ...read more read less