Jerry Keeter III

How do you tell the story of a man who was so much larger than life in something as simple as an obituary? How do you fit 71 years of adventures, accomplishments, endless curiosity, and a personality that could fill any room into just a few paragraphs? The truth is, you can't. And if you knew Jerry Keeter, you know he probably wouldn't have appreciated being squeezed into something so ordinary anyway. So instead, we'd like to tell you a little about Jerry, unobituary style. Because if there was one thing Jerry Keeter wasn't, it was ordinary.

Gerald Franklin “Jerry” Keeter III was born June 26, 1955, in Tulsa, Oklahoma, to Gerald Franklin Keeter II and Melba Dean Goodrich. He passed away on Thursday, October 8, 2026, at the age of 71, leaving behind more stories, laughter, lessons, and memories than we could ever begin to put into words.

Jerry grew up in Tulsa before his family moved to Catoosa when he was in the eighth grade. He went on to make history as Catoosa High School's first-ever state champion, winning the title in wrestling before graduating with the Class of 1973. But as impressive as that accomplishment was, the best thing he found in Catoosa was a young woman named Cheri Stedman. They married in 1972, beginning more than fifty years of adventures, challenges, laughter, and a whole lot of love.

After graduating, Jerry enlisted in the United States Army, eventually serving with the U.S. Special Forces in North Carolina, where he specialized in High Altitude Low Opening (HALO) parachuting. Considering his lifelong tendency to dive headfirst into just about anything that interested him, jumping out of perfectly good airplanes seems pretty fitting. After his honorable discharge, he attended the University of Missouri before transferring to Langston University, where he earned his degree in Computer Science. He worked for Gaffey Crane and Spirit AeroSystems before joining T.D. Williamson, where he remained until his retirement in 2022. Those are some of the important details of his life, but they don't come close to explaining the man he was.

Jerry was a little bit of everything. An engineer at heart, an inventor, a problem-solver, a nature lover, a music enthusiast, and a teacher, whether you wanted to be taught or not. He was incredibly intelligent, endlessly curious, and always about ten steps ahead of the rest of us. Long before most people were talking about emerging technology, Dad was already learning about it, experimenting with it, and trying to convince the rest of us why we needed to understand it, too. He could spend hours explaining things that were so far over our heads that we'd eventually just nod and pretend we understood. He genuinely loved sharing what he knew, and he was convinced it would all make sense to us someday. The funny thing is, he was usually right. He didn't just see things for what they were; he saw what they could become. And once something caught his interest, you were probably going to hear about it whether you wanted to or not.

A walk through the woods with Jerry was never just a walk. He would stop to identify trees, explain where they came from, how to tell whether they were healthy, and what kind of soil or environment would help them thrive. He knew more about trees than most of us could ever hope to remember, and he was determined to share that knowledge. If you were walking with him, you were getting a lesson. That was just part of the deal. He couldn't imagine why everyone else wouldn't be just as interested.

Trips to the nursery were no different. What should have been a quick stop could easily turn into an all-day adventure where he would examine plants, explain their characteristics, and talk about the important roles they played in the environment. Oftentimes those adventures involved crawling through a fence to investigate an abandoned nursery. Leaving perfectly good trees unexplored simply wasn't an option.

Jerry loved God's creation, especially trees, plants, and roses. Father's Day often meant spending the day wandering through tree farms and nurseries, which was exactly how he wanted to spend it. We'd usually end up at Sanders Nursery, where he would pick out a rose tree or rosebush for Cheri. Roses were his favorites, and he knew more about them than any of us could keep straight. He certainly tried to teach us, though.

His love of trees led him to purchase a commercial-grade tree spade and start a business transplanting large trees. Because simply admiring a beautiful tree wasn't enough for Jerry. He needed to figure out how to dig it up, move it somewhere else, and give it a new home. There are so many crazy stories involving the tree business, but one of the more memorable adventures involved Jerry and his son perched precariously along the edge of a cliff with his beloved “Big Digger,” determined to rescue the perfect Loblolly Pine before developers destroyed it. To him, that tree was worth saving, and he had the equipment, the determination, and apparently just enough confidence to convince John it could be done. If you knew him, none of this would surprise you.

He loved the water almost as much as he loved his trees. Every year, during our family camping and fishing trips, he'd have the kids up before sunrise, standing in freezing streams and rivers by 5:30 in the morning. He patiently(ish) taught them how to fly-fish, explaining the importance of flicking your wrist just right when casting, how to recognize when a trout was biting, and exactly when to give the line a little tug. By 9:00, everyone would be back at the cabin, cold, tired, and ready for a nap before heading out to spend the afternoon tubing on the lake. Of course, that was assuming the boat was running. Getting it ready usually involved spending hours working on it first. But he loved a project, and that boat certainly provided him with plenty.

Those were some of his happiest days. Being outdoors, spending time with family, teaching the kids something new, working on whatever needed fixing, and usually finding another project along the way. If something could be built, repaired, improved, invented, transplanted, programmed, or just figured out, Jerry wanted to be involved.

His love of music was every bit as eclectic as the rest of his personality. He listened to just about everything, but the Beatles, Eagles, Journey, and Air Supply were among his favorites. Their music became such a big part of our lives that his children, grandchildren, nieces, and nephews grew up loving many of the same artists. There are songs we'll never be able to hear again without thinking of him, and I have a feeling we'll all be smiling through a few tears when they come on. He also loved to dance, especially swing dancing with Cheri. He loved traveling, trying new things, and having people around him. For all his different interests and hobbies, one of the things he was especially good at was bringing people together.

While working at T.D. Williamson, Jerry started making his famous ghost pepper queso for his coworkers. What began as a little treat turned into a weekly tradition that kept growing as more people joined in. Eventually, they began collecting donations to help children in need. After Jerry retired, T.D. Williamson honored him by turning his Queso Thursdays into a charitable initiative called “Keeter's Queso for Kids.” The tradition spread to several locations across the country, and even the Singapore location got involved. Dad was so proud of that. And really, how fitting is it that a man who loved bringing people together managed to turn a bowl of queso into something that helped kids? Leave it to Jerry.

But of all the things Jerry loved in this world, nothing compared to how he felt about his wife, Cheri. They loved traveling together, whether it was somewhere new or a place they'd visited a dozen times before. After more than fifty years of marriage, he was still completely taken with her. He would often send me candid pictures of Momma doing the most ordinary things, along with the same simple question: “Isn't she beautiful?” And he meant it every single time. I don't think he ever stopped looking at her the way he did when they first fell in love.

That's one of the things I hope people remember most about Dad. He had this way of noticing things the rest of us might overlook. He could spot a beautiful tree from the road and decide it needed to come home with him. He could find something interesting in a subject that bored the rest of us to tears. He could get excited about an idea years before anyone else understood why it mattered. And after spending most of his life with my momma, he could still look at her doing absolutely nothing remarkable and think she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

More than anything, Jerry loved his family. He loved having us together, sharing his interests, planning adventures, telling stories, and making sure we experienced as much of life as possible. He could be stubborn, opinionated, ridiculously enthusiastic, and occasionally exhausting when he'd decided we all needed to learn something. But he was also funny, generous, adventurous, incredibly smart, and one of the most interesting people you could ever meet. There was never anything halfway about Jerry. If he loved something, he loved it completely.

His faith was important to him, and he believed wholeheartedly in God's kingdom and the beauty of the world He created. He appreciated things many people never gave a second thought, and he spent his life trying to get the rest of us to appreciate them, too.

Jerry was preceded in death by his parents, Gerald Keeter and Melba Seely, and his brother, Kent Keeter. Those left to cherish his memory include his beloved wife, Cheri Keeter; his daughter, Vona Cardwell; his son, John Keeter; his granddaughters, Alexis Keeter and her fiancé, Donovan McDaniel, and Courtney Boucher and her husband, Zach; his great-granddaughter, Winry Boucher; his brothers, Mark Alexander Keeter and Greg Keeter and his wife, Missy; and his nieces and nephews, Alex Keeter, Abby Wray, Sarah Coonce, Riley Keeter, Carson Keeter, Kellen Keeter, Samantha Keeter, and Zoe Keeter. He also leaves behind countless family, friends, and loved ones who have their own stories about Jerry, and we hope they'll keep telling them for years to come.

I don't think Dad's legacy will be found only in his accomplishments or the things he built, fixed, or created. It's in the things he taught us without even realizing it. It's in the music we grew up listening to, the family trips we'll never forget, the trees and roses that will always remind us of him, and the stories we'll be telling our children and grandchildren for the rest of our lives. He spent his whole life teaching us to look closer, ask questions, try new things, and appreciate the world God gave us. And I'd give anything for one more lesson. One more walk through the trees. One more sunrise on the river. One more crazy project. One more picture of Momma with those four familiar words: “Isn't she beautiful?”

But of all the things I’ve learned from my dad over the years, I think one of the most important was that there's beauty everywhere if you just take the time to notice it. Thank you for showing us, Dad.