We just got back from a memorial service for Wally, my stepdad, at the Pensacola Federal Penitentiary Camp, Saufley Field. He had worked there since April of 2006. It was a beautiful service, and I was very impressed by the people there, many of whom talked about what a great person Wally was and how he had touched their lives. My mom received a plaque in appreciation for Wally’s service, a United States flag from the warden, and a second flag which had been flown over the White House. Afterwards, they showed a video that they had prepared to honor Wally while we ate lunch.
What follows is the speech that I gave during the memorial service. It was very difficult to get through the whole thing, but I wanted everyone there to know more about Wally and what an incredible man he was; It was just something I had to do.
My name is Joseph John. Wally was my stepdad and has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.
My mom first met Wally in 1972, when he started working at Saint Joseph’s Center for Mental Health in Omaha, Nebraska. At the time, she was married to my dad. However, as my wife Stephanie knows, being married doesn’t stop you from looking — sorry, Steph — and years later, my mom told me that the first time she saw Wally, she asked her friends and coworkers who the good-looking new guy was.
Well, 14-years later, my mom went on her first date with the good-looking new guy, and they married on December 19, 1987 in the Little Brown Church in Nashua, Iowa. I was 11 years old.
We lived in Nebraska for several more years until Wally got a job at the Rochester Federal Penitentiary in Minnesota. We moved to Adams, where I went to Junior High and High School. After I went off to college, Wally and my mom moved back to Omaha to take care of my grandpa, who had Alzheimers, and, after he passed away, they moved to Saint Joseph, Missouri, where Wally worked at the Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary.
Six months ago, they sold their house in Missouri and moved to Pensacola, where they had planned to retire and spend the rest of their lives together. On the day before his heart stopped and he went into a coma, Wally said to my mom, “I love it down here.”
He never got a chance to take his boat out on the ocean. Wally loved to fish. I remember the time we went out on the Missouri River, and he hooked the biggest Northern Pike I’ve ever seen. Well, actually I never saw it, because it was one of those “the one that got away” stories, but we named it “Moses” and went back several times hoping to hook him again, but we never did.
Once, we went fishing on a lake in South Dakota. My mom said to Wally, “Don’t you want to take an extra gas can?” and Wally said, “No, I don’t need an extra gas can.”
As the sun sank toward the horizon and the storm clouds rolled in, we decided to call it a day, but unfortunately, we ran out of gas. Thankfully, my mom thought to tip the gas can on its side, and she kept priming the pump until Wally was able steer us to the nearest shoreline.
Another time, we went out fishing on a lake in Canada. When we expressed our concern about getting lost, Wally had the bright idea to just follow the same string of islands back in that we had followed out. Unfortunately, when we turned around to go home, none of us could remember which island was which, and Wally wasn’t the kind of guy to stop and ask for directions.
Growing up, Wally was always there for me and for his sons, Jeff and Jeremy. Whether it was football, basketball, baseball, Tae Kwon Do, or something else we were involved in, if Wally could be there, he would be there. He never missed the important parts of our growing up because he was hanging out with the guys or because he had more important things to do. We were the most important things in the world to him – his three sons and his wife.
I’ll never forget Wally driving around the parking lot, searching each row until he found the closest place to park. I won’t forget how he used to point something out to his right while he was driving, and his forearm would be inches from my mom’s nose, and it would drive her nuts. I won’t forget how I backed the car into a tree once while arguing with him. I won’t forget that he taught me how to drive a stick shift, and when I popped the clutch and spun his Bronco almost 180 degrees, he just said, “Well, let’s not do that again.” I won’t forget how he used to watch every Missouri basketball game or tape the ones he couldn’t be there to see. I won’t forget the way he used to pick me up when he hugged me. I won’t forget how good he was to my mom, how easy he was to talk to, or how much I love him. I owe much of who I am today to Wally, and I won’t forget that, either.
Wally was 56 when he died, and although we are left with many wonderful memories of him, I can’t help but feel that there should have been many more.
We’ll miss you Wally, and we’ll never forget you and how much you meant to us. We love you.
Wally was my very good friend at Saint Joseph Center for Mental Health in Omaha. Kathy will remember me. Wally showed many of our staff how to love hundreds of customarily “unlovable” children and youth. Wally was tremendous fun to work with. I missed him greatly when he left Omaha, and I was greatly saddened at hearing of his passing. He is truely one the most unforgettable and influencial people in my life.
Scott Albright, Educational Therapist
Boys Town Behavioral Health
Thank you, Scott. I still find myself thinking about him, sometimes in the present tense only to realize that he isn’t here, and I won’t be able to share my thoughts or experiences with him again. I’m glad that you still remember him and what a great guy he was. Thanks again for your thoughts.
Scott, Thank you for your kind words. We all miss Wally so much. There is never a day goes by when my heart doesn’t ache. It doesn’t seem right that he is out of our lives so soon. I am comforted to know that we will see him again when we leave this earth.