Charles “Charlie” Edward Milmine

September 25, 1939 – March 11, 2026

“Carry on.” Charlie Milmine paid heed to his own refrain a final time on March 11, 2026, and carried himself on to the Great Beyond, no doubt with his chin high, shoulders square, and chest full, and his bowtie fast. He slipped from this world so tranquilly that his family surrounding him failed to notice his last moment here, which was likely precisely as he willed it.

Charlie was known to those who loved him by a host of different names and titles. Most called him simply “Deacon,” though the origins of that nickname were murky, and he was certainly never ordained as one. To his grandchildren, he was “Dagby,” a mangled version of “Grampy,” which he graciously accepted and embraced, the mangler being his first granddaughter. In his later years, he faithfully carried on the Great Traditions of his family by reluctantly inheriting the title “Big P” from his late cousin, the P standing for Patriarch.

He was preceded in death by his parents, George Parsons Milmine and Mary Parker Milmine; his father-in-law, Carl Denton Wheeler, and mother-in-law, Clemewell Fletcher Wheeler; sister-in-law Sarah Wheeler Tison and brother-in-law Joseph Southwood Tison; his nephew, Peter Reed; his cousins, George Quaile and Will Theus Quaile; and his lifelong friends, Michael Carley, George Gurney, and Jim “Zip” Vary, who no doubt poured him a bourbon to mark their reunion after nearly six decades apart.

Charlie is survived by his loving wife of 45 years, Rebecca Wheeler Milmine; her daughter, Taylor Stone Summerell, who he raised and loved as his own, and his granddaughter, Liza Fair Summerell, and grandson, Christopher Parsons Summerell; his son, George Parsons Milmine II, granddaughters Sadie Ann Milmine and Bentley Rebecca Milmine, and grandson, Charles Edward Milmine II; his sister, Katherine Milmine Reed, and nieces Karen Reed (Stephen), Katrina R. Lande (Mike), and Kristin R. Favour (Lee); sister-in-law Mollie Wheeler Stone, and nephews Ty Stone (Tricia), Denton Stone (Brooke), and niece Mary S. Boyle (Brendan); nieces Kate Tison Bachrach (Alex) and Lawton Tison Carrescia (Dave), and nephews Joseph S. Tison, Jr. (Tina) and R. Fletcher Tison (Kristen), all of whom merit mention by name here because of the singular bond that Deacon forged with each one, and they with him; his Quaile cousins; and by dozens of grand-nephews and grand-nieces, who knew him as “Uncle Bubba,” yet another title he accepted without complaint. He is also survived by his friend Richard “Dicky” T.B. Stone, who was far more to him than the best friend that any man’s wife’s ex-husband has ever been. All those who remain here after him were marked in some indelible way by his love for them, expressed and conveyed in his deep and abiding interests in their lives and paths.

Charlie was born on September 25, 1939, and raised in Lakeville, Connecticut. His father was a professor and assistant Headmaster at Hotchkiss Preparatory School, and his mother was an early activist for a host of causes related to women’s rights. By his own retelling, the setting of his childhood – a house named Wildwood atop a gentle hill - was idyllic. He spent his days freely wandering the woods and pastures of rural New England, and his nights finding trouble with Mike and George. His summers and holidays were spent variously at his great uncle Joe’s cabin on Narrows Island, Maine, and tromping through the brackish duck ponds and over the driftwood-strewn beaches of Wassaw Island, Georgia. Both places were dear to his heart, but it was on Narrows and in the remotest reaches of Downeast Maine where Charlie found peace beyond compare.

He attended Indian Mountain School, led there on foot in all seasons by his patient sister Kat. From there, he boarded at Phillips Exeter Academy in Exeter, New Hampshire, graduating in its class of 1957. While at Exeter, he played football, hockey, and skied, “lettering in all and distinguishing himself in none,” in his own words.

Charlie happily reunited with Mike and George at Brown University, where Zip unwittingly became the fourth member of their ragged little lifelong brotherhood. With them, Charlie was a member of Alpha Delta Phi fraternity and of certain other societies, all now defunct. He played hockey for the Brown Bears, where his primary role as a third-shift defenseman was to place himself in the way of the opponent’s best forward, and remain there, which he often achieved by falling in his path and remaining there. His methods earned him a scar from redirecting a puck with his helmetless head, and more minutes spent in the penalty box than on the ice.

While at Brown, he enrolled in its ROTC, and upon graduation in 1962, enlisted in and graduated from the United States Marine Corps Officer Candidates School in Quantico, Virginia. Though reluctant to discuss his own combat service, the title of Marine was one of which Charlie was deeply proud. He served two tours abroad during the escalating Vietnam conflict and remained in the USMC active reserves for four years after, eventually mustering out honorably with the rank of Captain. The Vietnam War claimed the life of his closest friend, Mike Carley, in 1967. Charlie never forgot or ceased to mourn the loss of Mike, and there is peace to be had in imagining their long-awaited reunion.

After active service, Charlie pursued a career in forestry, obtaining a Graduate Certificate from the University of Maine and a Master’s Degree from the University of Michigan (“Go Blue!”). He spent countless hours, and often days and weeks, in old-growth forests from Oregon to Maine. It was during these years that Charlie cultivated a reverence for our nation’s untamed, unspoiled places.

He embarked on a career with a national lumber company which took him from Chicago to Brewton, AL, where he managed its southeastern timber-cutting operations. After a divorce, he returned a bachelor to Savannah, Georgia – this time, to live. Upon his

return, he accepted the Directorship of the Savannah Science Museum. His leadership was visionary, and regrettably, before its time. Nonetheless, many Savannahians now in their 40s and 50s will remember sprinting through the chambers of its human heart exhibit. Charlie’s children remember the weasel and otter that ran around freely in his office.

During his tenure as Director, Charlie met and quickly became enamored with, both Becky and the toddler daughter she had in tow, Taylor. The wait before he realized his purpose was to remain in their lives was not a long one. In 1979, he proposed to Becky on Narrows Island, and then married her on Wassaw Island. Very soon after, their son George arrived, making Charlie a first-time father at the age of 40.

Upon the untimely closure of the Savannah Science Museum, Charlie formed and ran a solar energy company, Alternative Energy Systems, Inc., installing solar water heating systems around the region. At the age of 50, Charlie announced to his family at supper that the final act of his happily wandering career path would be as an educator. He called St. Andrew’s School to inquire about any open positions, and was informed of a need for a computer teacher. By his own retelling, he replied, “I’m your man,” despite knowing little to nothing of computer systems. He hurriedly purchased an Apple, installed it at his Easy Street home, and spent long nights hunched over instructional manuals, all in an effort to sound barely more knowledgeable about late-1980s computer systems than his grade-school students.

Eventually, Charlie’s teaching career led him to St. Vincent’s Academy, where his bowtie became an institution. While there, he taught all that he could think to teach, and coached every sport in need of one. He formed and ran the St. Vincent’s soccer program, despite having never played the beautiful game. He coached track and field, though no one ever witnessed him run. He started robotics clubs and chess clubs and bocce clubs, sometimes beginning them with a membership of a single student.

As a teacher, he was often – by his own admission - learning the subject matter of his courses literally as he taught it. Nonetheless, Charlie managed to win PAGE Student Teacher Achievement Recognition (STAR) honors, being selected by four of his highest-achieving students as the teacher singularly most instrumental in their academic development. For him, the subject matter of the classes he taught was never as important as the one skill he strived to impart upon those he taught. To put it as plainly as Charlie did, he implored his students simply to think. And many did, because of him. In this way, his impact upon his community and beyond has endured beyond measure.

He retired from teaching in 2005, but remained active in too many nonprofits to list here. At various points of his life both before and after his retirement, he served as the United Way’s Director of Allocations, willingly becoming the lightning rod for criticism from area charities competing for desperately needed resources. He founded and played

a crucial role in sustaining the Caretta Project on Wassaw Island, a program in which aspiring marine biologists summer on the island and protect and monitor the nests of loggerhead sea turtles. He was an active member and proponent of the Council on World Affairs. He volunteered countless hours at the St. Thomas Episcopal Church Thrift Store (and enjoyed regifting the most useless items donated there). He volunteered his time as an Ogeechee Riverkeeper. He believed in and advocated for energy efficiency. He was unrelentingly curious, doggedly civic-minded, and he poured himself into, and donated generously to, organizations devoted to protecting the Earth. Charlie’s causes were central to his life. He spoke, wrote, and lived in accord with what he believed was right.

As steadfast as he was in his beliefs, Charlie never lost a single friend, or so much as alienated a single acquaintance, because of them. This was attributable to his disarming demeanor and his self-effacing nature. He never spoke of himself, and rarely agreed to address any gathering of people; yet he invariably made his audience feel like the only person in any room, no matter how crowded it was. He was quietly dignified, and patient and calm, no matter the message. He never needed to seek respect or the benefit of another’s doubt, because he gave those measures to others first. He never conceded defeat when there was any reason to fight on, whether the battle was against Alzheimer’s, pain, or someone peering at him across a cribbage board.

Unless the occasion called for an Oxford and a bowtie, Charlie cared little for his appearance. Often to his family’s dismay - or more likely, because of it- he wore every piece of clothing he was given, or which he alone found to be practical. He wore overalls, and he was never without a knife. Charlie’s sense of humor manifested itself in a deadpan running commentary, delivered so nonchalantly that it led us to wonder if he even understood how funny he was. He engaged in long-running, elaborate gags in which he found more hilarity than anyone else, a singular trait which endeared him to everyone else. He laughed with us and at us, and always at himself. He was utterly incapable of making small talk. Unsuspecting waiters and cashiers who greeted Charlie with a “how are you today?” quickly found themselves mystified by his responses: “feeling like a big deal,” “ready for the dancing girls,” or “big-boned.”

Above all his other attributes, Charlie personified humility and devotion. He answered to both Taylor and his son George as Deacon, without ever issuing any clarification or correction, until George finally became old enough to apprehend on his own that he was the only person on the planet who could call him Dad. Which George did, proudly, from then on. Charlie closed every piece of earnest correspondence he ever sent to his family and friends with, “Your devoted…” followed by whichever of his many titles its recipient used for him – Dagby, Deacon, Uncle Bubba, Big P, Chas, or Dad. Those who Charlie loved never needed any reminders of his devotion to them. He loved unfailingly and completely, and no one could be more deserving of the love he received in return. Though he has died, Charlie earned our undying devotion.

Charlie’s life will be remembered at a memorial service conducted at St. Thomas Episcopal Church on Isle of Hope on an April day, which shall be shared when determined by his family. Please do not send flowers. Instead, his family prefers donations be made to any one of the charities named in this obituary, or alternatively, to any cause dedicated to preserving the wildness of a place loved by the donor.

Charlie’s family wishes to extend their sincere gratitude to Dr. Adam Novack, and to the nurses and staff of Harmony, Comfort Keepers, Georgia Hospice Care, and Azalealand Nursing Home.