It’s been over a year since my dad, Robert Franklin Gooding, passed away—and I’ve struggled to write this. Putting it into words felt like accepting that he’s really gone, and I wasn’t ready for that. But he deserves to be remembered, not just for the day he left us, but for the life he lived and the way he made people feel. Known for his kind heart, stubborn streak, ornery wit and love for a good story, Bob lived a full life rooted in family, friendship, and the great outdoors.

Bob passed away on January 13, 2024, at Virginia Mason Hospital in Seattle. He was 77 years old.

Born in Bellingham, WA, on July 13, 1946, to Fred and Emmabelle Gooding, Bob spent most of his life in Forks, where he became something of a legend—equal parts tackle shop owner, reel repair wizard, storyteller, town philosopher, and member of the world problem solving cribbage playing crew. He was the kind of man you couldn’t pass through Forks without meeting—especially if you fished.

Bob was the proud father of two sons, Shay and Rick Gooding, a cherished grandfather and uncle. He is survived by his sons; his daughters-in-law Kristal and Rebekah; his sister, Linda Palmer; his beloved grandchildren: Brodie and Bianca (Shay/Kristal), and Grace (Rick/Rebekha) and his many nieces and nephews: Carla Ides, Brian Gibbs, Julie Scarlett, Gina Palmer Wikstrom, Sara Palmer Sveum, Mike Palmer, Devanee Berry, Chad Simmons, Lisa Simmons, Nolan Gooding, and Samantha Gooding. He is also survived by his former spouse of over 20 years, K.J. Cooper (formerly Gooding), with whom he raised his sons. He was preceded in death by his parents and followed by his younger brother, Larry Gooding, who passed away just six months after Bob.

Bob’s working life included time as a manager at Forks Thrifty Mart, and in the woods at Loth Lumber, but he truly found his calling as the owner of Olympic Sporting Goods. For more than 30 years, Bob’s shop wasn’t just a place to buy gear—it was an institution. If you were going fishing in Forks, stopping at Bob’s was as essential as filling your gas tank. For local fishing guides, it was even more important, getting the latest reports, showing off catches, and repairing gear.

He was known statewide—and beyond—for his unmatched skill as a fishing reel repairman and custom rod builder. Anglers from across the country (and a few from overseas) mailed in reels for his expert care. And he didn’t just fix them—he’d sit you down, tell you what you had done to break it, how to prevent it, tell a joke he’s done a hundred times like “Fishing is just a jerk at one end of the line waiting for a jerk at the other”, and then charge you $10 out of principle. Though he never really made official use of his teaching degree, anyone stopping in would get a history lesson about their gear, the spot they were heading to fish or hunt at and the method to use.

He teased tourists (and still sold them flies). He lent out gear to those that needed it. He often gave freely when someone couldn’t pay—telling them to “just take it,” or “catch up with me later.” His ledger had more IOU’s than most bank records, and he never kept track with any expectation other than kindness.

Though he didn’t seek the spotlight, Bob gave quietly and consistently to his community, donating to local fundraisers and a sponsor to his son Ricks’ various basketball teams. He spent several years helping care for his good friend, Gordon Gracey, after a life-changing accident—a testament to Bob’s loyalty and sense of duty to those he cared about.

Of course, he loved hunting and fishing, obtaining many trophies over the years, some of which were on display in his shop. He especially enjoyed grouse hunting and was rarely seen without his loyal dog, Duchess. He was a longtime (if only honorary) member of the Lions Club and attended the Assembly of God Church. He also helped organize donated fishing trips for the Wounded Warrior Project, making sure that veterans had the opportunity to enjoy the waters he loved so much.

Bob wasn’t one for funerals or celebrations of life—he’d show up quietly, slip out early, and rarely made it through without tearing up. He indicated he didn’t want one for himself, and we’ll respect that. Instead, on what would have been his 79th birthday, July 13, 2025, we invite you to share a memory or story about Bob on his Facebook page. Whether it’s funny, heartfelt, or somewhere in between, we’d love to hear the ways he made you laugh, helped you out, or just left a lasting impression.

Bob will be remembered for his gruff charm, his generous spirit, and the countless lives he touched not just as a father, grandfather, and friend—but as a fixture in Forks, a keeper of stories, and a man who made people laugh as he fixed what was broken from behind the counter of a small-town shop with a big heart.