A Life of Words

Joseph Robert Zinecker, whom we knew as “Little Joe” in the Conroe High School band in the 1970s, stood about 5-foot-5. But to his family, friends, colleagues, and anyone else who shared a loving bond with him, Joe was a giant when it came to his humanity, his impact on the lives of others, and the way he went about living.

“My dad took care of a lot of people – he was very generous with his time, attention, gifts, with his passion, and with his love, and he taught me how to do that,” Joe’s oldest daughter, 35-year-old Kate, told a packed room at Shady Valley Country Club in Arlington this past Saturday (Jan. 13, 2024) during his three-hour celebration of life. “And I will always take care of the people I love, especially (brother) Marcus, (sister) Abby, and my mom (JoAnne). He inspired me in everything.”

His younger brother Jim also saw Joe as larger than life: “From a very young age, my brother Joe was just a towering figure to me. To me he wasn’t two and a half years older, he was 20 years older. It should also be noted that the only thing I had on Joe was that I was taller than him by a single inch at one time. But to me he was 10 feet tall. I really looked up to him.”

Joe, husband to JoAnne for 38 years, father of three amazing kids, and granddad to Marcus’ two precious little boys, passed away Dec. 30, 2023, as he and JoAnne flew home from a holiday trip to Europe. He was only 63 but packed an immense amount of learning, teaching, mentoring, adventure, traveling, camaraderie, loving, and laughter into those years.

I was fortunate to embark on my friendship with Joe during our freshman year at Conroe High in 1974-75, when we were in the concert band (we’d missed auditions for marching band) and the only guys in the clarinet section – which, of course, we saw as a pretty cool situation to be in. The oldest of five (four boys, one girl), Joe was a prolific reader and had numerous interests throughout his varied and interesting life: the outdoors, camping, geology, astronomy, history, geography, and an affinity for sharing knowledge with people of all ages.

“You haven’t really learned anything unless you learned it the way my dad taught it to you, because he taught it in such a unique way,” Kate said. “Everything I know, my dad taught me. He threw himself fully into everything he did – everything he put his mind to, whether it was his work, his family, his hobbies – he has so many hobbies – and he gave me a lot of those, especially cooking.”

With Joe being a lifelong collector of rocks, his family came up with the perfect idea: Bringing pieces from his collection for attendees at the celebration to take one as a lasting memory of him.

In my nearly 63 years, I’ve been friends with a lot of brainy folks, but Joe was one of the smartest, most logical, analytical, studious people I’ve ever known. Not surprisingly, he ranked as one of the top 10 in our Conroe High Class of ’78 of over 1,000, was active in several clubs (Science and French among them) in addition to being in band, and we both were selected to National Honor Society as juniors. Lest you think he was too smart to be funny, Joe also had a fantastic sense of humor.

During Joe’s celebration of life, where 19 speakers shed lots of tears and elicited plenty of laughs, all four of his siblings (Pete, Jim, Janet, Steve) and all three of his adult children (Kate, Marcus, Abby) offered beautiful tributes.

“Nobody experienced life as fully or vibrantly or passionately or loudly as my dad,” Kate said, her voice packed with emotion. “He was also always my safe space, the person I could go to when I needed to vent or cry or share my joy or my pain or my fears with. He taught me how to be that safe space for people in my life too. He taught me to always look up and never let my eyes fall past my own horizons.”

Joe’s 85-year-old parents, Jim and Ann, were also there, and one of the stories shared by Joe’s brother Pete was a favorite and involved Mr. Zinecker. When the Zinecker family was living in Garland, a suburb of Dallas, in the early 1970s, Joe and Pete (a year younger than Joe) were playing Little League baseball. (As I later mentioned when I spoke, I had no idea Joe had ever played sports!)

One year when Joe was about 12 and Pete 11, they played in the championship game. Here, Pete said, is how it played out:

“Joe was the catcher, and when he called a game, it was ‘It’s not down, not in, not up – here’s the target zone.’ I’m pitching and our dad is umping behind the plate. We smoked their ass,” Pete said to huge laughter. “Joe had a triple that day and about five RBI, and I think I struck out 17.”

There was some good-natured ribbing about Mr. Zinecker being the home-plate umpire that day – but when he spoke briefly later, he clarified that he was asked to fill in for the regular ump and was “very, very fair in how I called that game.” Of that, I am quite certain. 😊

Joe, who majored in electrical engineering at the University of Houston, went on to be an engineer at Lockheed Martin in Grand Prairie for 35-plus years. I remember whenever we would talk or exchange emails, Joe always told me he was working on projects he couldn’t say anything about. Some of his colleagues at Lockheed talked about his remarkable work ethic, productivity, and leadership.

As a kid, Joe had some special moments in Boy Scouts, including at D/FW International Airport, Pete shared. Joe’s troop handled the flag-raising at the dedication of the new airport in September 1973 (it officially opened 50 years to the day before Saturday’s celebration of Joe’s life, on Jan. 13, 1974). Then, after the family moved to Conroe, Joe’s Boy Scout troop performed the flag-raising to help kick-start The Woodlands in October 1974, when we were freshmen at Conroe High.

Years later, with his son in Scouting, Joe was a beloved Assistant Scoutmaster for Marcus’s troop in Mansfield. He shared his passion for rockhounding, the outdoors, and stargazing with the Scouts and also volunteered in the geology program at Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico for several years, teaching geology, mining history, and his favorite: gold panning.

There were so many admirable traits about Joe and his pursuits. According to his wonderfully written obituary, he loved to judge local and state school science fairs and volunteered with Habitat for Humanity. Joe was also a member of and contributor to several organizations, including the Smithsonian Institution, M.D. Anderson Cancer Center, The Nature Conservancy, The Planetary Society, and Doctors Without Borders.

Joe retired from Lockheed in 2021 but that didn’t mean he was finished adding to his wealth of knowledge. At the time of his passing, he was working toward a longtime goal of earning a doctorate, studying for his Ph.D. in geophysics at New Mexico Tech.

Among the many lines I love from Joe’s obituary, there’s this one:

“Always the engineer, he lived his life with a rational mindset, yet prioritized personal happiness over cost.”

Pete’s son Garrick, Joe’s nephew, honored his uncle by saying he always wanted to help others maximize their potential.

“He had high standards for you, not just for himself,” Garrick said. “He could see the potential in you and he always wanted to get you to see that and for you to accomplish that.”

Abby, at 30 the youngest of Joe and JoAnne’s children, drew a huge round of laughs when she said: “I think if we were in ancient Greece right now, we’d be calling him Joe the Great. I think he’d like to imagine that too.” She also credited her father for being the inspiration for her career (she’s an engineer too) and the person she always called first when she needed help. Abby said Joe often made it obvious to his children that they didn’t need to live up to him.

Sister Kate honored her dad with an outpouring of grace and emotion. She said that ever since she was a young girl, they both instinctively looked at the sky when they went outside. She’s never stopped.

“Every time I do, I always think of my dad,” Kate said. “I always look for our constellation. So when you need a safe space, think of my dad. When you have happy news, think of my dad. When you listen to music, listen to it like he did (loud) – don’t hold back. When you cook a meal for your family, for your friends, for the people you love, think of him and cook it the way he did – use spices.”

Joe’s obituary also included this insight:

“He always joked that there were only three things he didn’t know – and one of those was that he didn’t know what the other two things were.”

Said brother Pete: “There’s actually four things Joe did not know – I forgot the other three. But the fourth is that his mom and his dad and his brothers and his sister love him very much.”

I think we can safely say that list of people is pretty much endless. We all miss you and love you, Little Joe. Thank you for setting a prime example of the kind of person a son, husband, father, granddad, uncle, cousin, friend, and colleague should be. ❤