Naples Florida
Sunny in the 70's
Last week two friends of mine lost there father to cancer. The Beast strikes again. Although I can't ever remember meeting the man, I was moved by his eulogy posted below. Clearly a well loved man, a person who surrounded himself with quality people. A tragedy like this is an acute reminder our time is finite and that each individual should strive to live the good life. No regrets in the end. If you want to sail around the world, make it happen. If sailing is not your thing, then figure out what is and get moving!
I feel terrible for my dear friends Dani and Stacey pictured above. Of course I'm in love with both of them which, in my humble opinion should cushion the blow. I may be biased though. They kept a blog chronicling there experience and you can read it by clicking
here.
Here is the eulogy. Give it some thought.
"To call Wally’s death anything but a consummate tragedy would be an understatement of monumental proportions. There is no compensation for Wally’s loss: not to you, Stacey, not to Dani, not to Alexandra and not to Taylor. You have our utmost respect and our deepest condolences. There is no compensation for Wally’s loss to other members of his immediate family, and certainly there is no compensation for Wally’s loss to the rest of us - his friends and his “other” families at Harvard and in Boston and Pennsylvania. All of us in this room and in the community, and countless other locations - grieve the loss of an original and authentic member of our extended families. Like the rest of us, Wally had his quirks, and like the rest of us, he was not perfect. But to all of us, he was authentic - he was an original and beloved member of our communities and more than anyone else, he represented a culture which is so unique and which all of us cherish, and which will be forever compromised.
In the past two uneasy months, we’ve all commiserated with each other about this pending and incomprehensible event. How? Why? The inexplicable randomness of it all. The consensus thought is that we all figured Wally was indestructible and we never gave full consideration to his mortality. It was a given that Wally would always be here - always full of energy, a constant and visible and, yes, loud and passionate presence. And that indomitable spirit is what all of us will most miss about our friend. His relentless determination to not just participate but to lead, coordinate and arrange and, yes, rearrange everything for us and most of all include all of us - made us all better. Who can forget the countless trips: football games, reunions, birthdays, anniversaries - any excuse to have a get together among his family and wildly diverse and inclusive range of friends. Born to lead with the willingness to undertake any endeavor and to be the center of any activity became the constant with Wally. And in that sense and in every other sense, he was consistent, he was always reliable and he was always doing for others. That is what I loved most about Wally, no veneer, no pretentiousness - he was authentic and unvarnished.
Wally was one of those rare birds who succeeded at everything he tried, and did he ever try! Wally was the classic overachiever, if it took 100% effort to be great, Wally gave it 150% - didn’t matter if it were sports, business or being a dad. He was good at anything he cared about. Most of all he cared about his kids and was he ever successful at that! How he loved you kids - you were his favorite subjects and he was immersed in whatever you were interested in and as importantly, what he thought was best for you.
It’s obvious that Wally was also a great businessman. He was a relentless researcher and a natural entrepreneur; he had a nose for the transaction, but in his own unique style, he downplayed his role in the business world. I used to tease him about how he was involved in just about everything from shoes, to condos and all sorts of other investments. And he was generous, nearly to a fault, contributing huge amounts of money to Harvard, the Joey Fund, Cystic Fibrosis and a myriad of other charities and institutions.
And, of course, Wally was unsurpassed in his natural athletic ability, enhanced even more by his relentless determination and fierce competitive spirit. Football was his favorite - All-State in high school, All-Ivy in college; but he was also an outstanding lacrosse player and later a tremendous tennis player. We met in high school playing in a basketball scrimmage against each other. Both of us were on the team as enforcers and we beat the heck out of each other. After the first half, exhausted and bruised, we both started laughing at the absurdity of it all and from then on we forged a rock-solid relationship which continued through high school, then college, and all the way through last week – 48 years later. In many ways, sports were a metaphor for Wally’s life. How many times did he get the extra yard through sheer determination and desire. This quality was true not only in sports but also in business and with all of his family and social relationships.
Like all of you, I fell in love with that booming infectious laugh, that gap-toothed, ear to ear smile, even those enormous calves which were the envy of all of us on the football team, and most of all that indomitable spirit. When you were with Wally, you were always laughing. When you were with Wally, you always felt as though you got your nickels worth. There was no challenge he backed away from, yet there was fragility, a sweetness even, to Wally that became even more pronounced over the past two months as he opened himself up to many of us.
Over the past few days there have been countless Wally stories and observations. There are too many of them to repeat but one of my favorites happened every day at Harvard football practice. At the beginning of every practice the coach would call us together and tell us to take two laps around the goal posts. Always, Wally would shoot out ahead of everyone and lead the pack. After a while this irritated all of us who were not inclined to sprint around the goal posts. So we all met with Wally in the locker room to tell him he was a ‘rate buster’ and he had to stop showing us up; he agreed. The next day and thereafter, same thing – he just couldn’t help himself – it was his nature. And being Wally, we all understood, and for the next three years, Wally sprinted around the goal posts, fifty yards ahead of the rest of us. Classic Wally.
You’ll note a familiar theme throughout any Wally story. Wally was a serial over achiever, a natural, genetically engineered even, to live at 150% - he always got his nickel’s worth.
Yes, there are many great Wally stories from these past decades. Especially the past few troubled months we’ve all witnessed the love, friendship and support which Wally earned over so many years, payback for so many acts of charity and for becoming such a respected member of our community. It was our turn to say “Thank you, Wally.” So many of you did so much and none of you thought of it as a burden. And that is the true measure of a man. Wally made all of us better.
Finally, I was thinking this morning that things will never be the same again in heaven. Imagine Wally’s routine up there: he’s rounded up everyone for a touch football game, then he’s planning golf matches, cocktails and dinner. Perfect. And heaven will be a better place. He’ll make them all better.
Yes there are hundreds of stories in this church about our Wally, and yes we all do have to move on and celebrate such a glorious, gifted life. But none of us will forget Wally and his friendship, his constant and reliable loyalty, his gusto for life and most all his authenticity. He will live on because we will share these stories until all of us are gone and then his grandchildren will do the same.
And Stacy and Dani and Taylor and Alexandra, what can we say about your heroic devotion to your dad? We know how terribly you will miss him. In the weeks before the surgery, he and I spoke openly about everything in great detail. He concluded he was okay with everything, even dying, since he argued that no, he didn’t just get his nickel’s worth, but he got at least a dime’s worth. His only concern was that you kids would be okay without him. I wish I could tell him now that every time I called the hospital Dani or Stacy answered the phone. I saw all of the children there-keeping a vigil by their dad. And many of us have followed the heart-wrenching and beautiful account of the final weeks of their dad’s life through Stacy and Dani’s blog. Wally, you don’t have to worry about these kids. And you kids, when you get sad - you need only to remember that the marks we leave behind have the power to bring us back to life, if only for a moment. Your dad left many, many marks. So you’re going to have many opportunities to bring him back to life…if only for a moment – he would like that. God bless you."
Joe O’Donnell
03/22/10
Thanks for reading everyone
Capt Chris
