Long before the day’s first light, a young boy named Rodger Shifflett would wake to the gentle sounds of farm life on the outskirts of Charlottesville. That’s where he learned what mattered most—not from lectures or grand gestures, but from the rhythm of honest work and the steady hands of his parents, who believed that family came first and a promise meant something.



The childhood of Renaissance Assisted Living of Greene County resident Rodger was a patchwork of early mornings, chores done side by side with his brothers, Danny and Dale, and laughter carried on the breeze with his sisters, Angela and Diane. On that farm, he saw how patience and kindness could turn hard days into good ones, and how a quiet word could be as strong as any shout.

He took those lessons with him when he walked the halls of William Monroe High School, becoming a familiar face in a community that still remembers him. When duty called, Rodger served in the National Guard, standing up for his country with the same calm, unwavering sense of responsibility he’d learned at home.

For more than 30 years, Rodger brought that same reliability to his work at Sperry, quietly ensuring every detail was just right. He didn’t seek the spotlight, but those who worked alongside him knew they could count on him—every day, without fail.

Although Rodger doesn’t have children of his own, his life has always been rich with connection. The bonds he’s shared with siblings and friends, and the relationships he’s built over a lifetime, have filled his days with meaning. He’s a man who understands that sometimes, love is quiet and steadfast. 

These days, you’ll find Rodger savoring life’s simple gifts. There’s a particular peace in the way he rolls outdoors in his chair, letting the sun warm his face and the breeze rustle through the trees. He cheers for his favorite teams and never passes up a chance for a bowl of ice cream or a slice of apple pie—proof that joy is often found in small pleasures.

Rodger may not be the loudest voice in the room, but his presence is felt. There’s a comfort in his steadiness, a depth in his kindness, and a humility that draws people in. In a world that sometimes celebrates flash over substance, Rodger reminds us that the truest strength is often the quietest.

We’re grateful to share in his story—a life marked by loyalty, resilience, and the kind of goodness that endures long after the day is done.