Those who knew Charles Rodney “Rod” Godwin probably remember his special chairs. Every place he spent more than five minutes, he claimed one specific seat as if by divine right. The kitchen table chair no one else dared sit in at mealtime. The well-worn recliner in the living room angled just right. And, perhaps most famously, a particular spot in the St. Joseph’s Hospital cafeteria where even the nuns who were his bosses learned to scoot when he walked in. His chairs weren’t just places to sit. They were landing pads for conversation, storytelling, and whatever else he felt like offering that day; and while anyone was welcome to pull up a chair beside him, they knew better than to sit in his.
Perhaps he grew so attached to his favorite chairs because, in his early years, he was rarely in one place for long. Born on May 12, 1948, the second of six children of Rev. Charles and Wilda Godwin, he spent his childhood bouncing around West Virginia as a Methodist minister’s kid before landing in Buckhannon, WV his senior year of high school. He’d call Buckhannon home for the rest of his life. There, he built a life rooted in family, community, and service to others.
A piece of family lore is that he had his future mother-in-law, Ella Bersiford, as a teacher, who once emphatically declared, “Rod is the only student I wasn’t able to teach how to type!” Despite such educational bumps, he graduated from BUHS in 1966 and went on to earn his degree in Christian Education from West Virginia Wesleyan College in 1970, and a pharmacy degree from WVU in 1977.
He spent the next 35 years as a pharmacist, retiring as the Director of Pharmacy at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Buckhannon in 2011. Though he could never fully choose between his dreams of being a pharmacist or being a chef, he simply became both. He would compound and fill prescriptions with precision starting at sunrise and, before sunset, fill the family kitchen with the smells of meals that made you feel nourished and wrapped in comfort. If he cooked for you, you knew you were loved. And if he growled at you while doing it because you moved his spoons, you were really loved.
He believed in stewardship of land, of wildlife, and of tradition, and was a life-long hunter and fisherman and a proud Eagle Scout (along with all four of his brothers and his son). These values were reflected in his strong principles, which he sometimes held quietly…and sometimes not so quietly. He immersed himself deeply in his passions, such as tying his own fishing flies and building his own rods, a fact he celebrated on his license plate: FISHNROD. He served as a Scout Executive from 1970-73, was recognized as the Ducks Unlimited Area Chairman of the Year in 1990, and spent more years than he could remember as President of the Middle Fork Club in Queens, WV. It was there in his cabin that he found his own version of A River Runs Through It. The line from Norman Maclean’s book, “Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it,” resonated deeply with him and part of his heart was always on the bank of the Middle Fork River waiting for the trout to rise.
On December 30, 1972, he married his love, Barbara Berisford, though they joked it didn’t really count since his father officiated. He first won her heart by inviting her over with the promise of a surprise; when she arrived, she found a tiny kitten curled up in a shoe, a glimpse of the softness he rarely showed but always carried. She even stayed married to him after their first summer together in 1973, living in the back of the Scout camp health lodge where Rod was in charge. Homesick little Scouts woke them at all hours and persuaded her to hold snakes so they could prove to their parents on exhibition night that snakes weren’t scary. Over the next 53 years, they built a home together, literally. Another piece of family lore is that their house had no official blueprints because he drew them himself, expanding room by room to make space for their four kids, an ever-shifting menagerie of cats and dogs, the occasional lizard or turtle the kids found in the yard, a few peacocks (because Barbara wanted them and he was never one to deny her anything), and even, briefly and regrettably, (not so) pygmy goats. If you ever doubted the softness of his heart, you only had to see him with one of their cats curled on his lap.
He was intensely proud of his children, even if he wasn’t the type to say it out loud. His pride showed up in never missing a single event, whether it was football games, track meets where last-place finishes were a likely possibility (though there was a 4th place ribbon once), or middle school basketball games where his eldest daughter’s lack of coordination earned her the unofficial role of “designated fouler.” As they grew, he would be at every graduation, celebration (often baking a special cake for the occasion), or airport pick up as needed. He loved family vacations crabbing on the beaches of Hilton Head, South Carolina (just please don’t ask them about the ill-fated visit to the Crazy Crab restaurant), a place that became so special that he and Barbara eventually made it their second home.
He collected friends through every era of his life and built a reputation as the man who might grumble about the details, but would always show up early, stay as long as needed, and roll up his sleeves and take care of whatever needed doing. And always one to do things in his own way and on his timeline, he slipped away peacefully in one of his rocking chairs at home on the morning of November 14, 2025.
He was preceded in death by his parents Charles and Wilda (née Moore) Godwin and by his son, Charles Adam. He is survived by his wife, Barbara (née Berisford); his children Lindsey and her husband, Matthew Moehle; Natalie and her husband, John Eitel; and Graham and his wife, Hilary (née Hedrick). He is also survived by those who lovingly christened him “Grumps”, his grandchildren Adam Moehle, Eliana Moehle, Cora Eitel, Ruby Eitel, Ian Godwin, and Jensen Godwin. He also leaves behind his five siblings, Sharon (Robert) Carr, David (Jane) Godwin, John (Kim) Godwin, Greg (Lisa) Godwin, Jeff (Diane) Godwin, many nieces, nephews, cousins and too many other Godwins and honorary Godwins to reasonably attempt to list.
A Celebration of Life will be held in the spring, when the weather is good enough to sit outside, tell stories, and exaggerate them exactly the way he would have wanted. In the meantime, we remember the words by poet Brian Andreas that fit the way he lived: “There are things you do because they feel right & they may make no sense & they may make no money & it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other & to eat each other’s cooking & say it was good.” And if you’d like to honor him, do one (or all) of the following: watch Dances with Wolves, raise a toast with a Diet Coke in his name from your favorite chair, or cook a meal with someone you love and tell them it was good.
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