Hank Rohs

Henry “Hank” Rohs lived a life defined by curiosity, creativity, devotion, and a joyful sense of wonder that never dimmed—it never dimmed in childhood, or in his career, in fatherhood, and certainly not in the years he spent surrounded by grandchildren and great-grandchildren. His story stretched from Joliet, Illinois to Kalamazoo, Michigan, from chemistry experiments that scorched the back of the garage walls, to sunscreen formulas made on the kitchen stove and mixed in the bathtub; from hitchhiking through snowstorms for love, to building a cottage that became the anchor memory for three generations. His life was rich, textured, and deeply loved.

The mid-1930s are remembered as a tumultuous chapter in history, with the shadow of the Great Depression still hanging heavy over the United States and tensions that would soon explode into WWII continuing to escalate overseas. During such trying times, it was important to find moments to celebrate in everyday life. There was certainly much to be excited about in the household of Henry and Lillian Rohs as they awaited the arrival of their baby boy. His father was a chemist, and his mother worked as a medical technician and was deeply active in her church, a commitment that would echo throughout Hank’s own life of faith.

From the beginning, Hank’s world was filled with science, experimentation, and the kind of hands-on learning that sometimes produced spectacular results. When he was 12, his father bought him a chemistry kit, hoping to inspire him to follow in his footsteps. Hank took to it immediately—perhaps a little too enthusiastically, “he accidentally scorched the wall of his bedroom” while experimenting with colorful fireworks.

His father’s response was simple: take the experiments outside.

That didn’t stop Hank’s imagination and curiosity. He discovered that mixing calcium carbonate with water created a bright light, and once, believing he could launch a jar into the air, he placed it in a metal trash can. The trash can lid “literally shot into space!” These early experiments were more than childhood mischief—they were the first signs of a mind that loved to tinker, improve, and push boundaries.

By age 16, Hank was ready to use his paper-route earnings—twelve dollars—to buy as many fireworks as he could. Even though fireworks were illegal in Michigan, they were legal just over the border in Indiana, so off he went. When he returned home and opened his trunk to his friends in the neighborhood, he instantly became “the most popular kid on the block.” He thought he could hide the spoils of his Indiana trips in his garage, while building an enterprising opportunity to make some money. When he stepped away, his mother, curious but calm, simply placed the fireworks in a tote filled with water and left them in the driveway without a word. Neither of them ever mentioned it again.

Gardening was another inheritance from his family. His grandparents had tended a WWII Victory Garden, and his father always kept one too. Hank absorbed that love naturally. Gardening became one of the great constants of his life—something he returned to again and again, a place where he found peace, purpose, and joy. He also inherited his father’s love of collecting. Stamps, coins from his paper route, marbles, beer cans—Hank collected them all. His enthusiasm was contagious, influencing many family members who found themselves drawn into his hobbies.

Hank graduated from Kalamazoo Central High School in 1953 and joined the military, where he spent time cutting potatoes in the Army - a reminder that even in the family’s retelling, his service years were remembered with humor and affection. After the Army, Hank attended Western Michigan University, earning a master’s degree in paper science within chemical engineering. It was at Western that he met the love of his life, Joan.

Their meeting was a story of friendship, curiosity, and a little matchmaking. Joan noticed Hank while he was working in the cafeteria kitchen. Her friend Betty discovered that Hank was a fraternity brother with her boyfriend Enoch, and together they arranged a double date. That night began a lifelong bond between Hank and Joan—and between the two couples. Enoch and Betty became their closest friends, sharing summers up north and standing in each other’s weddings.

Hank and Joan’s courtship was defined by devotion and determination. When Hank lived in Joliet and Joan in Kalamazoo, he hitchhiked every weekend to see her—even if there was a snowstorm! Their shared love of Western hockey games and Hank’s time playing clarinet in the Western marching band added color to those early years.

Hank and Joan welcomed three children: Laurie and Gary, born in Wisconsin, and David, born in New York. Joan taught school, and Hank traveled frequently for work. Because Joan didn’t like being alone at night, the children took turns sleeping at the foot of her bed.

The Rohs family was deeply involved in their church, especially youth groups and camp programs. They were lifelong members and even participated in mission work with the Menominee Indian community, helping repair a foster home riddled with bullet holes. They cleaned, painted, patched, and restored—work that reflected their faith in action.

Music filled their home. Laurie played piano for a time, Gary tried clarinet but didn’t enjoy it, and all three children sang in the choir.

Sports were another major part of family life. Hank coached Laurie’s basketball team and later coached soccer for Gary and David. He was EXTREMELY competitive and could dissect a game with precision, analyzing every referee call. The boys played different soccer positions—Gary as fullback, David as forward—and Hank made certain he “helped” their coaches know how the team could win the game with equal intensity. When the family moved to Kalamazoo, the game of soccer was still a really new sport to the area. Gary and David became among the first to start the AYSO soccer program in Kalamazoo and encouraged local kids to play, introducing the sport to their Michigan friends.

One of Gary’s favorite memories was building Estes rockets with his dad. The kits came with standard engines, but Hank “was never satisfied with the size,” went to engineering rockets with two or three engines to make them stronger and decided they could "make it better" by adjusting the number of engines a rocket needed. .

Middle life brought one of Hank’s most inventive chapters: the creation of his own sunscreen brand, MOST Products. On vacations, Hank would read sunscreen labels and scoff at the ingredients—"basically Crisco,” he said. When he noticed a friend with unusually soft skin, he asked what she used. Her answer—mink oil—sent Hank on a mission. He bought mink oil, experimented with formulas, and worked with recipes using pots and pans with their kitchen stove and bathtub to find just the right recipe for sunscreen location and oils in their bathtub until he found the perfect combination. As his concept grew, he needed to come up with a catchy name and was struggling a bit. Incidentally, the name came to him during a church prayer: Mink Oil Sun Tanning—MOST Products. “God pulled an audible,” he said, and the name arrived fully formed. MOST Products became known as one of the best sunscreen formulas available. Blending business with passion, Hank even sponsored a soccer game through the company.

Becoming a grandfather allowed Hank to rediscover his inner child. He introduced all the grandchildren to fireworks, delighting in their excitement. The family celebrated holidays together—Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, and especially the Fourth of July, often in matching outfits.

Sunday dinners with his parents, Henry and Lillian, were a cherished tradition. But the cottage up north became the family’s true anchor memory. Purchased as a lot next to friends, the cottage grew over time—from a foundation with a garage pad garage pad to a full home built by Viceroy, a company that constructed houses inside a warehouse before delivering them to the site. “The inside of the house has never seen the outdoors.”

Three generations have now loved that cottage. The grandchildren remember climbing sand dunes, boating, hunting for Petoskey stones, playing games such as canasta, peanuts, chicken tracks, hearts, and cribbage, and testing the lake water—Hank was always fascinated by the temperature. The Zodiak, a rubber raft with a 25-horsepower motor, became legendary. Hank insisted on the bigger engine, and the raft would boogie! They knee-boarded, skied, and laughed their way through countless summers.

In his later years, Hank made a bold decision: he bought a new house without telling Joan. He wanted all their living spaces on one level and enlisted Laurie to help finish the basement. When a water leak occurred, he had no choice but to tell Joan. Fortunately, they both agreed it was the best house they had ever lived in as the home had a large garden—Hank’s happy place. He grew vegetables (squash, zucchini, and tomatoes) dahlias, chrysanthemums, shamrocks, and geraniums, carefully bringing the delicate plants indoors during Michigan winters. He loved splitting shamrocks and giving them to friends. He also spent hours playing Sudoku, a game that suited his analytical mind.

His “infamous sayings” included: “Well, everyone else was going that fast…”—a nod to his habit of speeding as a traveling salesman. He enjoyed liver and onions and Southern Comfort Manhattans. He loved to golf and played in a number of Men’s leagues, he loved to sing, serenading the women at the Story Point front desk with his warm tenor voice. He sang in church choirs his entire life. Hank’s relationships with his children were deep and meaningful.

Gary will miss their conversations—long, thoughtful discussions about writing, life, and biblical stories. Hank always began with, “So where are you now?” because Gary and Carol traveled frequently. He loved intellectual sparring, especially political debates, and wrote monthly letters to the Kalamazoo Gazette editor.

Laurie will miss their phone calls and the closeness they developed after Joan passed. She spent countless hours with him at Story Point, taking him to physical therapy every day and then to McDonald’s for lunch. He always ordered a double cheeseburger with extra pickles. They shared everything—stories, worries, joys—and cherished the time they had together.

The grandkids have special memories - granddaughter Bri will miss his jovial personality. Jessica will always remember his hugs and him feeling like home. Michelle will miss his laugh! The way that he would rub his face and take a big deep breath in when he was thinking about things or was tired. She always loved how he would be so interested in anything that you wanted to talk about! He would ask questions and be so engaged! She always loved playing games with him (when he would play haha), and just loved that you always felt comfortable around him. He always had this comforting way about him. Brady will miss his subtle comedy, Grandpa Hank was so unbelievably funny and people didn’t give him credit for the comedic relief role he played in his life. He showed Brady that no matter what situation you’re in, just laugh - it will all be okay. He will also miss the wealth of knowledge he gave him. He showed Brady that you don’t have to be a genius to learn and understand you just have to be willing to try. He will miss Grandpa Hank a lot.

Reverand Julie Kline knew him as a wonderful, encouraging and supportive champion to the kids at First United Methodist Church – especially the girls who played on his basketball team. Coach Rohs was competitive but he also just wanted the girls to have fun. Their team was a big deal and actually qualified to play at the State Championships – they would win in Lansing! He was active and engaged in the church choir and in the men’s choir.

Hank was naturally curious, generous, loving, and deeply faithful. He lived his Christianity quietly but profoundly, internalizing his beliefs and expressing them through kindness, service, and humility. He was fun. He was funny. He was innovative. He was devoted. And he was beloved. His legacy is one of joy, curiosity, generosity, and love—a life lived fully, faithfully, and with a spark that never went out.

Henry “Hank” Rohs of Kalamazoo, age 90, died on July 18, 2026. Hank was born October 23, 1935 in Joliet, Illinois to Henry and Lillian Rohs. Hank was preceded in death by his wife Joan and his son David Rohs.

Surviving are his children: Laurie (Randy) Chipman, Gary (Carol) Rohs; grandchildren: Jessica (Alex) Vastartis, Bri (Michael) Parker, Michelle (Nick) Tomlinson and Brady Chipman and his fiancé Tori Megil; grandchildren Gabriel, Natalie, Trevor, Noah, Theodore “Teddy,” Connor, Cayden, Nikolai, McKenzie; and many nieces and nephews and special friends.

Please join us for a Service on Saturday August 1, 2026 at 10 AM at the First United Methodist Church in Kalamazoo. A reception will follow in the church hall. Celebrate Hank’s life online by sharing your favorite stories and photos on his dedicated webpage at BetzlerLifeStory.com. Memorial contributions may be made in his name to the David Rohs Memorial Fund, care of the First United Methodist Church in Kalamazoo.