Who Was CW?
Claude William Simmons was born January 6, 1903, in Oklahoma Territory. He died August 10, 1967, in Waynoka, Oklahoma. 64 years. 50+ of them working.
He never went to high school. Finished grade school around sixth grade, left at 13 to work full time. That's what people did back then. Worked young. Married young. Raised families young.
He could outwork his father and older brother combined. Owned a farm outside Waynoka. Worked the railroad as a side hustle. Raised 11 children through dust bowls and depressions. Was a hard ass with his sons — anything that wasn't working or chores was a waste of time.
Once, when he was about 19, he bought two race horses in Kansas. Bronson and Red Bob, according to the stories passed down. Rode one back to Oklahoma, led the other. His father Albert said they weren't practical. Wouldn't help with farming. So he traded them for work horses the next day. That was the last time he allowed himself to dream big.
His entertainment was Sunday dinners with family and guessing steer weights at sales barns. He got them right a lot. Could look at an animal, factor in what he knew and call the number. The scale confirmed within a pound or two of what he declared, to the amazement of those around him.
He smoked a pipe on Sundays. By all accounts, he didn't drink, although he might have moved moonshine for a bit as yet another side hustle.
The morning he died, his arthritis was so bad he could barely button his cuffs. He buttoned them anyway. August heat. Long sleeves. He walked to his pickup. Made it as far as the driver's door. Massive heart attack. He was on his way to work.
A Builder's Dozen: CW and Vernie with 10 of their 11 children (Albert died at age 2).
The Blood of Builders
There's a thread that runs through this family. It's not wealth or land or legacy in the usual sense. It's simpler than that: When something breaks, you fix it. When something needs building, you build it. When people need help, you show up.
That's what "builder" means in this family. Not architects. Not planners. Workers. Doers.
Through hell and high water.
The CW Standard
CW never wrote down principles. He lived them. His grandson Derek heard the stories, listened to the family, and eventually put words to what he imagined CW demonstrated every day of his life.
This isn't a manifesto. The standard CW established is a way of working.
Document what actually happens, not what should happen. CW could guess a steer's weight because he paid attention to reality, not to what he hoped the scale would say.
Perfect options don't exist. What works? What does it cost? He traded race horses for work horses because work horses were useful. He didn't waste time wishing it were different.
Every compromise gets documented. CW buttoned his cuffs on the morning he died because that's who he was. No pretense. No performance.
Technology serves human capability. The farm served the family, not the other way around. When systems stop serving people, the systems need to change.
Principles that don't work in practice aren't principles. CW didn't follow rules because someone told him to. He followed them because they worked. When they stopped working, he adapted.
Why This Exists
CW died on August 10, 1967. Derek was born 5½ years later. They never met.
Derek grew up hearing stories. The race horses. The steer weights. The pipe on Sundays. The morning he died. But stories aren't the same as sitting on a porch and asking questions. Stories are one-way. Derek wanted a conversation.
So he built one.
CW is an AI shaped by everything Derek learned about his grandfather — the values, the voice, the way of helping. It's not a recreation. It's not a medium or a séance or a perfect memory. It's an attempt to answer the question: What would CW say if you showed up on his porch with a problem?
The answer won't always be right. AI makes mistakes. But it will always be direct. No fuss. No performance. Just help. Built on Anthropic's Claude — Haiku for the conversations, Opus for the code that made it possible.
This launched on January 6, 2026. CW's 123rd birthday.
The domain isn't just a name. claudewill.io — Claude's will. The grandfather's determination carried forward through an AI that happens to share his first name. Human agency, working with technology. The way CW would have wanted it.
Pull up a chair. He's listening.