George Bennett was a man whom the world was better for having known.

The youngest of four children in Lincoln Park, Michigan, George told stories of his hand-me-downs being altered by his mother so he could grow into them for longer. He learned adaptation and the value of entertaining himself and others, usually with mischievous antics. His sisters remember him once holding a kitten hostage in a tin coffee can. After being freed, the kitten followed its captor endlessly, showing him only affection. George had a lifelong affinity for animals, and they had an affinity for him.

As a young man, George attended Lincoln Park High School. He was a promising student, submitting letters to Reader's Digest and being recognized in the class newspaper for his first-place wrestling moves. It surprised no one who knew him best that, beyond his natural athleticism and sharp intellect, George possessed a rare talent: he was as likely to win a stranger's heart with a joke about flatulence as he was to earn a degree in a lab coat.

George secured a wrestling scholarship to Wayne State University. There he found himself among other men who shared his fine taste in humor and academics. His fraternity years at Tau Kappa Epsilon were marked by loyalty, laughter, and one infamous plumbing incident. George had an ease for making lifelong friendships. He savored time with his peers. He traveled. He climbed. He parachuted without an instructor on only his second jump. He drove across the country for alpine hikes. With a full academic and social calendar, he still earned a Bachelor of Science in Biology and a Bachelor of Science in Pharmacy.

Shortly before graduation, while working at Botsford Hospital, George met an EKG technician who would become his wife. A puppy appeared in a stocking at Christmas, and the home seemed to have everything they needed, or so they thought. Then came their son. Chris, an escape artist, waited diligently one afternoon until no one was looking and took off toward a creek. They learned they needed more child-proofing and a padlock gate. Many wondered if George's mischievous antics were genetic. His stories about fatherhood garnered a plaque inscribed "Pharmacy #1 'Chris' Story Teller." For balance, two years later the universe sent the family a daughter. She was a quiet observer who was often glued to her dad. George protected his kids for who they were, helping each develop in their own way.

His kids adored him for his enthusiastic love as much as for his patience. He was a father known for filling the house with giggles. He attended swim meets, coached Little League teams, and wore many pink jerseys as a travel softball parent. He was known to dominate impromptu games of H.O.R.S.E. in the driveway. He had an unassuming charisma and the arm hair of an alpaca, making him his family's own version of Robin Williams. When his kids were bored, he'd let them pull and twirl the sweater of hair covering his limbs to their amusement. George never missed a chance to bring laughter, whether by pranks or by teaching his kids to "never give your foot to a wrestler."

George was an avid outdoorsman. He was as adept skiing with his friends in waist-deep powder in the mountains as he was boating on the lake. He enjoyed summers with his family at their cottage, taking his kids tubing, starting water balloon fights, and manning the barbecue. Even after a move to the Arizona desert, George could be found serving as tournament director for the local golf club.

For much of his forty-year career, George worked the overnight shift as a pharmacist, quietly keeping the medical community running while everyone else slept.

George was a sincere friend. He was a man who loved trivia and an unexpected punch line. He possessed a natural humor that others spent a lifetime learning to replicate. His mischief was magnetic and endeared him to many. Even with an undesirable outcome, his intentions were never in doubt. He was as happy for the joy in another's life as he was his own. He was a lifelong confidant to many and a keeper of fond memories.

While he will be missed beyond words, his passing does open the door for the mediocre golfers and skiers in his cohort to finally step out of his shadow. His words (likely), not ours.

George was the dear father of Chris and Lindsey; loving brother of Catherine (Lawrence) Uhring, Joyce Murdock, and Tom (Lis) Bennett; and proud godfather of Shannon (Sulkowski) Goss. He is survived by his beloved nieces and nephews, Angela Cabauatan, Bill Murdock, Stacey Murdock-Webster, TJ Bennett, and Samantha Bennett.

The family is currently planning a public visitation with dates and times pending/ Please check back for more details.

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