Donald A. Wenner

The last Wenner in his generation, Donald Andrew Wenner passed away peacefully during the early hours of August 12, 2025, with family by his side. As Don slept, he chuckled intermittently throughout the evening. Always blessed with a very unusual and unique sense of humor, Don’s sleep-laughter was a constant throughout his marriage to the love of his life—his wife, Joanne, whom he married on February 8, 1958. Joanne was a saint in many ways and putting up with Don’s humor surely punched her ticket to Heaven at her passing on July 25, 2021. Her husband’s sleep-laughter made her humorously irritated throughout their marriage, because he could never remember what he was laughing about. The morning he passed, his son Greg told him he would soon have to ‘come clean’ now and get ready to tell his wife what the giggles had been about. Heaven, to Dad, will be almost the same as the iconic Hamm’s beer sign(once a fixture in hundreds of taverns)— a tan pup tent, orange canoe, and big campfire with the beautiful waterfall in the background.

Don or ‘Donny’ as his family knew him, was born on July 22, 1934, to Clarence and Hannah (Rasmussen) Wenner at their home on Elmore Street. Don, along with his father and brother, eventually built Bear Service Garage on the corner of Broadway and Elmore, right next to the house and across from Tilken’s Tavern, one of his favorite watering holes.

Don graduated from West High School in 1952, a few years ahead of his wife-to-be. One of his favorite “dating” stories was the time when Joanne joined him for what he led her to believe would be a pleasant time “boating on the Bay.” Quite unaware of that lay in store for her, Joanne dressed up in white pedal-pusher slacks, white tennis shoes, and a perky scarf around her neck, completing the perfect, most fashionable nautical ensemble. When a grinning Don, his “Red Dog,” got to the boat, Joanne was surprised to find it was merely a very small duck skiff that her sailor boy kept stashed by the mouth of the Fox River, deep in the reeds. But she was a trooper climbed nervously into the skiff, spending up all morning cold and wet (so much for her expectations of the day), while Don happily shot many ducks. Red Dog leapt into the water and brought the prey back to the “yacht,” where he’d shake off a few quarts of water and mud, dropping the prize by her feet, giving her spotless white pants an unforgettable “outdoor look.” Always a trooper, Joanne would smile bravely knowing Donny was very happy. Why else would he take each duck, for each time he got a duck back swing it around in circles above his head? The smile might have disappeared for a few moments when he informed her. that is how you broke their necks to kill them if they weren’t dead. Not surprisingly, that was their only “boating” date.

After high school, Don entered the Navy on March 18, 1953, serving as a fireman and engineer on the destroyer Joseph P. Kennedy, Jr. Later in life, he shocked his grandchildren, who thought Grandpa was a swashbuckling sailor who traveled the world. He burst their bubble when he told them that he spent many of his shore leaves in every jail between New York and the Mediterranean. His favorite was in Amsterdam, where they knew him by name. Don liked to brag he had a standing reservation there during his Navy stint.

Don especially loved time outdoors camping, hunting, and fishing. Always immediately immersed in whatever he took on, including fly fishing on the Oconto River, bass and musky fishing, and spending every Thanksgiving week decked out in blazing orange, stalking deer. His love of the outdoors began at a young age, and in his early teens, he spent his entire summers alone camping and living off the land at Chute Pond in Oconto County, where he ultimately wished to be laid to rest.

Never one to give up easily, he defeated Grim Reaper six times in his life. He especially relished the story of his first victory: barely escaping drowning on Lake Michigan while fishing alone in a small 14-foot boat. Fog set in three miles out, and our intrepid adventurer found himself between two ferry boats traveling to and from Kewanee. The waves swelled to enormous heights, and Don knew that was it. He shut off his outboard motor, sat on the bottom of the boat and made his peace with God, all the time bouncing around like a toy and nearly scraping the sides of the two large vessels that were passing each other. All around him were fog horns and the sight of the towering sides of each ship, with him in the middle. He bounced around like a toy in the bathtub and lived to tell about it.

Don is survived by his children, Sandra Wenner, Greg (Mary) Wenner, and the pride and joy of Joanne and Don’s lives, their grandchildren, McKayla and Jay Wenner. Don was preceded in death by his wife Joanne Carol (Radey) Wenner, parents Hannah and Clarence (“Toots”) Wenner, brother Robert (Betty) Wenner, sisters Rosemary (Ralph) Widi, Shirley (Norman) Rusch, baby sister Sandra Lee, and special nephews Steve Widi and Peter Wenner. The crowd around the campfire is surely quite large.

The family wishes to express their deepest gratitude to Julie Wenner Kohl and her husband, John Kohl, and Don’s cousin Nancy Johnson who, for so many years, gave so unselfishly of themselves weekly to help take care of Don and Joanne at their home on Cleveland Street and at Grancare Nursing Center in Green Bay.

A very special thank you goes to Britney, the owner of Grancare— the most amazing and compassionate nursing center ever, and also to the nurses and staff who cared for Don and Joanne with such heartfelt love and compassion: Chelsea, BettyJo, Michelle, Heidi, Dana, Lauren, John, and all the hardworking, dedicated people there who worked with Don and Joanne over the years. A very special note of appreciation as well to the Hospice team at Heartland Hospice, Cindy, Tess, Sue, and Chaplain William that made his passing so amazingly serene.

The family plans to hold a celebration of life at a later time, details of which will be announced to family and friends.