Taft J. Campbell Jr.

After a long illness from diabetes and kidney failure and dialysis with the final heart shutdown, Taft J. Campbell Jr., 70, slipped into a final sleep in the wee hours on Saturday, May 25th, 2024, three days before their 36th wedding anniversary. He left behind his wife, Joyce Evans-Campbell. “We’re peas and carrots,” he said, like it was a motto.

He was like a race car driver fighting and striving to win. Hot pavement and hot rods. Taft’s life resembled the quarter of a mile on asphalt to the finish line. Who’d beat him, or was he the winner? Never any dispute. On weekends he’d race to beat his racing friends. Vvrroom. Young children and Baby Boomers remember him well. Marçi and Nejat recall, “He always had the coolest cars!!! Colorful rides. Uncle Taft, they said, was unable to tally his extraordinary number of rides he bought and the ones he suited up to drag race. If he thought his car had a speck of dirt, he’d get out of bed, go wash and wax it. His cars no matter what make and model, they were always shinier than Sunday spiffy shoes. At the car shows in the early 21st century, Taft was first to arrive and last to the leave. He had to dust off his 1931 Ford Coupe 289 engine that won spectator awards.  Vvrroom. Vvrroom.

The long ago children and teens recall, “We would sit on the porch and watch him Zzoomming down the street… screeching …it wassooo much fun to watch! He would fix cars…smoking hot rods. And he was funny!!! So funny. He loved to laugh. He brought lots of joy and excitement to us kids. I’ll always remember him smiling.”

Yes, he overcame many adversities, but inside this car lover and genius under the hood he buried his pain beneath slick tires on blazing rides. His life in the rear-view is a stone throw from deep trauma inside this non-confrontational, modest and quiet man often referred to as a “great guy who’s like sunshine.” And he loved super chunky peanut butter and jelly and mentoring troubled youths.  

He rebuilt cars mostly for drag racing and often raced them but never bragged though he could’ve based on beauty. He swam like he was in the Atlantic Ocean and cooked like a chef barbecuing and baking chocolate cake. “I’m an all-around man” whose thumb’s down against the boasting about women’s work. He vacuumed, washed clothes,  floors and cars, repaired vehicles of drivers stalled in traffic.

Taft Campbell is preceded in death by his mother Mary Hudson Campbell and father Taft Campbell Sr., and a sister Ora Dell Rawling-Holt. He’s survived by a sister, Shirley Harris of Camden Ark., two daughters—one by birth and a bonus daughter: Jean Campbell Rodriguez and Kameelah Evans-Cone of Houston, Texas; Taft, middle child of three children in his original family, preceded in death by his brother John Campbell; and bonus mother, Lottie Campbell who raised him.  Taft grew up in a blended family with kindred spirit-connected blood ties. Blood to Taft was love first—not to ask questions of “Who’s your people?” His blended family survivors are a sister Elizabeth Moore of Minneapolis, Minn., and brother Larry Bates (Martha) of Rockford, ILL., and deceased brothers Charles Bates and Michael Bates, four grandsons, and numerous nieces and nephews.

Born and raised in Rockford, ILL., high school graduate of Rockford East High School, Taft earned the journeyman in machine repair, the highest level of machinery, at Ingersoll Milling’s four-year apprenticeship program, was a beginning apprentice pressman program at the Rockford Register Star, received an associate degree in human services from Milwaukee Area Technical School, attended Cardinal Stritch University for bachelor’s work, trained in jujitsu marshal arts.

Throughout his illnesses, he often said, “Thank God for giving me another day.”  He said that in a lifetime, if we’re blessed by the Heavenly Father, and that special someone walks into our life, looking elsewhere for our peas with our carrots, we’ll miss all that heavenly glory as karate champion Bruce Lee said. Taft calls it a beautiful life. Why not be blessed in time without unmet needs?

            That’s so Taft, the mild-manner guy, the unconditional lover, the quiet soul who brought sunshine and laughter. Friends, family, in-laws, admirers, adopted family, loved him past Earthy flaws we all have. His philosophy is, “Look beyond other people’s slights for forgiveness is mandatory and comfortable.” It’s almost routine to hear admirers say, “I love this guy.” Or, “He’s a great guy.” On his 70thbirthday, a card from kidney dialysis program read, “You’re like sunshine.”

            He smiled through pain and deep depression, but he managed to joke and make others laugh. Again and again, “We love this guy,” said professionals from womb care to nurses, dialysis techs, and many whose paths he crossed.

Taft strived to reshape a path gone-wrong early-on. He and wife Joyce finished a couple’s memoir before End Stage Renal Disease and told his story and life lessons. His kidney doctor said the heart ditched him, but he stuck in there with a six-year historical milestone. Nothing to sneeze about for this thing would beat the hell out of Superman and Superwoman.

And don’t laugh, though he did, his dialysis techs and nurses memorialized TC on a pillow case. Achieving the toughest human tasks, Taft succeeded in every goal, traveling the road through one of the toughest human challenges. Rest in peace said the neighbors now grownups.

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