We are so sorry you’ve lost such a wonderful Dad. I was always impressed by how intelligent and interesting your father was. He seemed to know how to fix anything and everything. He had an incredibly interesting job and was obviously the “go-to” guy at work. What a truly nice and genuine person he was. He was a fantastic role model for how a true gentleman, husband and father should be, and one way that is evidenced is by the legacy he leaves: his fabulous children and grandchildren. We are so lucky to have Dave as a friend and can see your Dad in you in many ways. He lives on in your hearts, your heads, your memories, and in the fiber of your being. He will always be a big part of who you are. You will always be so proud to be his children and that he was your Dad, and he was always so proud of you. Our deepest sympathy for your loss. Love, Sue & Rob
Dad was born with a sunny disposition, an abiding interest in people of all kinds, a deep sense of humor and an engineer’s mind. From the time he was a young man, he loved to tinker with cars, often attended by his devoted mother, Alice, who would hold an umbrella over him so that he could work in the rain. Throughout his life he was always ready to help friends with his uncanny ability to diagnose and fix any car problem. He spent many happy hours under the hood of a car, especially if he had someone to talk with while he worked. As a small child, I would hold tools for Dad, and talk to him as he lay on his back under the car. He often took us for ice cream on warm summer evenings, but to avoid getting ice cream on the upholstery, we learned to eat it squatting, like Dad, next to the car. Eventually he taught me how to change the oil, change and gap the spark plugs, and put my snow tires on in the winter. When I first moved to Maine, women in neighboring homes would send their husbands over to help me put the snow tires on, and as they reluctantly approached, they would usually tell me so, adding that it didn’t look like I needed any help. “No,” I would say, “my Dad taught me,” and they would nod, tip their caps and go home.
One of my earliest memories of Dad was his building of the swing set that sat in our yard for twenty years or more–he made it very solid, heavy pipes driven three feet into the ground for the frame. As a small child, I couldn’t understand why it took so long and was impatient to use the slide, so in the mornings before work, we would go out to the garage and Dad would hold the slide up and Mom would set me on top to slide down. This was so exhilarating that I kept asking for more!
When my brothers and i were young, we took turns going out with Dad to fish early in the morning when we were on vacation. Because I couldn’t bear to catch a fish and have it die, but still wanted to go with him, Dad put a practice plug on my line, and I would cast that plug over and over. We took many vacations with the five of us sharing a camping trailer, often joined by the family dog, and fortunately the size of those trailers kept getting bigger. Dad and Mom took many trips together, just the two of them, including a trip to the southwest that was the best vacation they ever took, in Mom’s book. They were adventurous and continued to travel outgrew the trailer, taking a cruise to Alaska and exploring Florida during the winters.
One of my first glimpses of Dad as a person who was not just my father came when I worked, not very successfully, as a waitress at Your Host restaurant during the summer before I went to college. One of the other waitresses knew Dad when he was in high school, and told me that the girls called him “Smooth Wally,” due to his good looks and charming ways, attributes that he never lost. He paid attention to his appearance, and owned so many shirts that they filled a separate closet and then some. I will always remember how he would shave and comb his hair so that he would look nice for a visit from my mother during his many hospitalizations.
As he grew older, he told great stories about his youth. When Dad told me about his service in the Coast Guard, he said that he and a buddy tried to enlist in the Navy but he was rejected due to his childhood history of rheumatic fever. Undeterred, he went to the Coast Guard and was accepted. When I asked how they reacted to his medical history, his response was, “I didn’t tell them.” Unfortunately, the illness recurred and he was sent home, but our family still admires the picture of him in uniform, which Mom now has by her in her room.
Over the years, Dad helped me with many projects. Once he and Mom were visiting and I was having problems with the tank on the water pump in my house. When he heard how much the plumber wanted to replace it, he said, “We can do that for less than half the price,” and so we did. He spent part of another visit with his head under my sink, replacing the garbage disposal, and making the shelves in Max’s toy closet more sturdy. After he took up carving, he loved nothing more than to carve a bird or an animal that a family member or friend would like. While his work was exquisitely detailed and beautiful he said that couldn’t carve to sell, only to give pleasure to people he knew. When his grandson, Max, was seven, he spent one visit to Tonawanda in the basement with Dad, carving and painting a “watch dog,” a sheep dog with a watch face in the side that he was very proud of. I have many birds and animals that he made for me, and people seeing them always wonder at the amazing quality of his work.
Dad survived an amazing number of illnesses and injuries, including the fractured skull at age 5 that left a lifelong scar on the top of his head that doctors often marveled at. We began to think he was indestructible, and he was, for ninety years. Buoyed up by the support of his family, he was unflaggingly interested in the medical advice he received and his positive attitude brought him through one health problem after another. In July 2012, I was visiting Mom in rehab as she recovered from a fall. I had a call one morning saying that Dad was in the emergency room with a bloody nose and wanted me to meet him there. The bleeding had stopped by the time I arrived, so we settled in to wait. Dad stopped a nurse and asked for “one of those nice warm blankets you have,” and she brought him one. Then he stopped another nurse and said, “I’m kind of hungry, could I get something to eat? You have a pretty good egg salad sandwich here,” as I sat by, astonished. His sandwich finished, another warm blanket delivered, he curled up on the gurney and took a two hour nap!
It was always clear to us that our Mom was the love of Dad’s life. Their relationship, and their steadfast love and support for each of us, was all we could possibly have asked for in our parents. In the short time since Dad’s passing, there have already been many moments when I’ve thought, “I’ll have to tell Dad about that.” And so he will always be in each of us.
We are so sorry you’ve lost such a wonderful Dad. I was always impressed by how intelligent and interesting your father was. He seemed to know how to fix anything and everything. He had an incredibly interesting job and was obviously the “go-to” guy at work. What a truly nice and genuine person he was. He was a fantastic role model for how a true gentleman, husband and father should be, and one way that is evidenced is by the legacy he leaves: his fabulous children and grandchildren. We are so lucky to have Dave as a friend and can see your Dad in you in many ways. He lives on in your hearts, your heads, your memories, and in the fiber of your being. He will always be a big part of who you are. You will always be so proud to be his children and that he was your Dad, and he was always so proud of you. Our deepest sympathy for your loss. Love, Sue & Rob
I am very sad to hear about Walt’s passing. He was a very sweet and gentle man and I am happy to have known him.
Dad was born with a sunny disposition, an abiding interest in people of all kinds, a deep sense of humor and an engineer’s mind. From the time he was a young man, he loved to tinker with cars, often attended by his devoted mother, Alice, who would hold an umbrella over him so that he could work in the rain. Throughout his life he was always ready to help friends with his uncanny ability to diagnose and fix any car problem. He spent many happy hours under the hood of a car, especially if he had someone to talk with while he worked. As a small child, I would hold tools for Dad, and talk to him as he lay on his back under the car. He often took us for ice cream on warm summer evenings, but to avoid getting ice cream on the upholstery, we learned to eat it squatting, like Dad, next to the car. Eventually he taught me how to change the oil, change and gap the spark plugs, and put my snow tires on in the winter. When I first moved to Maine, women in neighboring homes would send their husbands over to help me put the snow tires on, and as they reluctantly approached, they would usually tell me so, adding that it didn’t look like I needed any help. “No,” I would say, “my Dad taught me,” and they would nod, tip their caps and go home.
One of my earliest memories of Dad was his building of the swing set that sat in our yard for twenty years or more–he made it very solid, heavy pipes driven three feet into the ground for the frame. As a small child, I couldn’t understand why it took so long and was impatient to use the slide, so in the mornings before work, we would go out to the garage and Dad would hold the slide up and Mom would set me on top to slide down. This was so exhilarating that I kept asking for more!
When my brothers and i were young, we took turns going out with Dad to fish early in the morning when we were on vacation. Because I couldn’t bear to catch a fish and have it die, but still wanted to go with him, Dad put a practice plug on my line, and I would cast that plug over and over. We took many vacations with the five of us sharing a camping trailer, often joined by the family dog, and fortunately the size of those trailers kept getting bigger. Dad and Mom took many trips together, just the two of them, including a trip to the southwest that was the best vacation they ever took, in Mom’s book. They were adventurous and continued to travel outgrew the trailer, taking a cruise to Alaska and exploring Florida during the winters.
One of my first glimpses of Dad as a person who was not just my father came when I worked, not very successfully, as a waitress at Your Host restaurant during the summer before I went to college. One of the other waitresses knew Dad when he was in high school, and told me that the girls called him “Smooth Wally,” due to his good looks and charming ways, attributes that he never lost. He paid attention to his appearance, and owned so many shirts that they filled a separate closet and then some. I will always remember how he would shave and comb his hair so that he would look nice for a visit from my mother during his many hospitalizations.
As he grew older, he told great stories about his youth. When Dad told me about his service in the Coast Guard, he said that he and a buddy tried to enlist in the Navy but he was rejected due to his childhood history of rheumatic fever. Undeterred, he went to the Coast Guard and was accepted. When I asked how they reacted to his medical history, his response was, “I didn’t tell them.” Unfortunately, the illness recurred and he was sent home, but our family still admires the picture of him in uniform, which Mom now has by her in her room.
Over the years, Dad helped me with many projects. Once he and Mom were visiting and I was having problems with the tank on the water pump in my house. When he heard how much the plumber wanted to replace it, he said, “We can do that for less than half the price,” and so we did. He spent part of another visit with his head under my sink, replacing the garbage disposal, and making the shelves in Max’s toy closet more sturdy. After he took up carving, he loved nothing more than to carve a bird or an animal that a family member or friend would like. While his work was exquisitely detailed and beautiful he said that couldn’t carve to sell, only to give pleasure to people he knew. When his grandson, Max, was seven, he spent one visit to Tonawanda in the basement with Dad, carving and painting a “watch dog,” a sheep dog with a watch face in the side that he was very proud of. I have many birds and animals that he made for me, and people seeing them always wonder at the amazing quality of his work.
Dad survived an amazing number of illnesses and injuries, including the fractured skull at age 5 that left a lifelong scar on the top of his head that doctors often marveled at. We began to think he was indestructible, and he was, for ninety years. Buoyed up by the support of his family, he was unflaggingly interested in the medical advice he received and his positive attitude brought him through one health problem after another. In July 2012, I was visiting Mom in rehab as she recovered from a fall. I had a call one morning saying that Dad was in the emergency room with a bloody nose and wanted me to meet him there. The bleeding had stopped by the time I arrived, so we settled in to wait. Dad stopped a nurse and asked for “one of those nice warm blankets you have,” and she brought him one. Then he stopped another nurse and said, “I’m kind of hungry, could I get something to eat? You have a pretty good egg salad sandwich here,” as I sat by, astonished. His sandwich finished, another warm blanket delivered, he curled up on the gurney and took a two hour nap!
It was always clear to us that our Mom was the love of Dad’s life. Their relationship, and their steadfast love and support for each of us, was all we could possibly have asked for in our parents. In the short time since Dad’s passing, there have already been many moments when I’ve thought, “I’ll have to tell Dad about that.” And so he will always be in each of us.