In the summer of 2019, I worked for the Shoshone National Forest as an ATV ranger. The job consisted of riding an ATV on the forest’s motorized trails, making visitor contacts, checking permits, and maintaining and marking the trails. My coworker was Tim Gilland, a Wyoming native who had recently moved back to his home state after a career in law enforcement and firefighting in south Louisiana. Since I now live in south Louisiana, I recently became curious as to where exactly Tim worked. A quick Google search produced an obituary. He died in August of 2021. I was surprised, because Tim was only 58 when I worked with him and didn’t have any health issues I was aware of. What follows is my honest eulogy for him.
Tim was not simple or easy to understand. He was a man of depth and simplicity, of integrity and failings. But though he had failings (the plague of all mortals), I came to realize that Tim was an honest and caring man. Every day, we would meet at the office at 6 AM to start the workday. We would then drive up the mountain in an F250, trailering two Yamaha four wheelers. The drive would take at least 45 minutes. Tim and I, being male coworkers removed in age, never waxed poetic to each other, pried into each other’s family life, or inquired after the other’s stirrings of the heart. Nevertheless, even without ‘deep’ communication, we came to understand each other and inevitably grew to know each other better. Driving the truck, riding four wheelers through the mountains, catching glimpses of moose, outrunning thunderstorms, running chainsaws, building fence- there is only so much distance that a difference in age and unfamiliarity can create.
Tim liked to talk, and talk he did. By listening to his narration of events and by doing a bit of reading between the lines, a detailed portrait began to emerge. Tim wanted to be a good man. He was conservative and traditional; he believed in having friends, worshiping God, guns, and strict border control- but there was part of him that was not able to live up to his perceived ideal, and I believe that pained him. That pain, however, he used to fuel his relationships with others- his grandson Kolyn, whom he cared for and for whom he was willing to sacrifice anything- his friends, and even me. In fact, I believe that it was that pain that gave him his set of generous and caring virtues. It is not every coworker who will talk to you like an equal, who will notice but not condemn your mistakes, who will teach and instruct, lead by example, and have you over to have dinner at his house. No, Tim was not just a coworker. He was a good friend, a complex man, and one for whom I have the utmost respect.
In closing, I would like to share one more thing: Tim wanted to be respected and loved, and he treated everyone I knew accordingly. This was evidenced by the reverence with which he would speak of Jimmy Smail, another Shoshone National Forest legend. Jimmy passed away only months before Tim did, but to hear Tim talk about him you would think Jimmy had been canonized already. Tim had a keen eye- 35 years as a sheriff will do that- and perceived the truth better than most men. That included failures, and certainly he was aware of Jimmy’s, his own, and mine, but I never heard him belittle anyone for falling short. I trust that the Lord treated him accordingly at his judgement. Please join me in praying for Tim’s soul, especially by remembering him at Mass.
Requiam aeternem dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace. Amen.
Lander's Forge 
This is beautiful. Tim was my volunteer fire chief. I also worked 9 years at the sheriff’s office, and took some classes he instructed while my time at CPSO. When I joined WD6 fire department, I was working full-time for Carlyss Fire Department. I’ve always had respect for him, even at times I didn’t agree with him on things. I trust him as a deputy Sheriff and fire chief. I’ll never forget when I was backing an apparatus on a dead end road into a driveway. I noticed the driveway was caving on the passenger side. I threw it in gear and pressed on forward, while the back end was leaning. I managed to get it up and out, before engine 17 could fall on its side. Chief Gilland and Assist Chief Frazier were standing there watching. I was told by chief Frazier that chief Gilland was on the radio with 9-1-1 about to order a heavy lift for a flipped apparatus, just when I had moved it out and back on the road safely. He looked at chief Frazier and said, “How did she do thay?” Chief Frazier responded, “because, besides Teri, Lori is also our best female driver. I’m not surprised, I’m proud.”
Another time, just before he retired, I was backing engine 17 into the bay at station 3, when I hear Firefighter Coleman :yelling stop, stop.”
Back story of this incident: In the past I had made complaints to Chief Frazier and Gilland that someone was moving the markers also engine 17 needed new tires
I believe that’s what saved me from getting into major trouble. I had hit the wall at station 3, making a lot of damage. I was sick to my stomach. I got out and told Coleman to get 17 out, I couldn’t, I was going to be sick. I also said I’m calling the chief. I called Chief Gilland asked if he could please come to station 3. He showed up, I told him what happened. He looks at the truck and the building. He then says well you’ve been wanting to have station 3 remodel Lori. (While smiling at me) I cried and said nothing like this. I asked him am I fired, suspended? He looks at me and says stick out your hand. I looked at him confused but did as told. He slapped my hand and said now you’ve been punished and laugh. I was so sick for doing this I punished myself from driving for almost a month. He asked firefighter Coleman why I wasn’t driving engine 17 to calls? He tells him she really feels horrible and is punishing herself. Chief came to and said “Lori the punishment is over. You and Patrick are my only people at station 3 I Depend on. It was an accident. You’ve told us about the tires needing replaced on 17 and the backing in station 3 was being moved by someone. I know this wasn’t done out of irresponsible driving. So I’m ordering you to start driving again. I smiled, he smiled back.
He invited Patrick and myself a few times to Wyoming. Our financial situation kept us from being able to go. That’s my regret, not just going. The last hello and see you later, was December 2020, at station 2, the Christmas party.
He gave me a hug and told me he misses me and Patrick. And we need to come see Wyoming. I told him, I don’t know when, but we will make our way there. I just wish we had before his passing. My birthday is March 4th like his, I think of him on our day ever since.
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Thanks for taking the time to read and respond. Funny that we can connect over knowing Tim from over a thousand miles apart.
Your story describes the man I knew. If I were to rewrite this obituary with a few years’ more maturity, I would be more emphatic about how much I cared for Tim.
That he kept inviting you and Patrick to come see him was not just a polite gesture. I know he meant it— he had me over for dinner once, and every time we drove past the house he was building, he would point it out and let me know if he welcome there when it was built.
If there’s anyone else who would like to share their stories of him, please send them this article and tell them to comment below. Thanks.
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