Well, it is January 29, 2008, and my Dad, Allan Wade Walldren would have been 74 years old today. Happy Birthday, Dad!
As I have become an adult, I have learned a lot about my Dad that I wouldn’t have fathomed as a child. I have learned that he, like you and me, was a human being. He had his flaws. He also had things that made him one the greatest human beings on the planet, especially to me.
Losing him when and how I did was a terrible blow. My life would have been very different if he was still alive. I know this to be true. Going what we went through together engendered in me a perspective, respect for life, and sense of compassion I do not think I would possess without his loss. While I am feeling a bit under the weather today, it is not because of grief. So I will take this time to remember you, Dad, and what you mean to me.
Horse
My Dad and I used to play “Horse” in the backyard. As a kid, I wanted nothing more than to play my Dad and my brother Chris. We’d stand around outside making up crazy shots. One afternoon in the hot sun, my Dad said he had to take a break. (I later learned that this was because he was having some chest pains.)
“Scotty, I’m 50 years old and need a break.”
“So’s Donald Duck!” I protested.
He laughed and said “You have me there!” He picked up the ball and we finished our game.
Sense of Humor
Dad did a great Donald Duck impression. And I reckon it is from him that I developed my propensity for mimicry. I remember waiting with baited breath for him to do his Donald Duck voice. I still can’t do it, but it made me laugh.
Dad was known for his sense of humor, especially his joke-telling ability. When he was in my Mom’s store, he was notorious for making our customers laugh.
Even facing his own mortality, he maintained a sense of humor. That was his choice, to try to laugh about it. I remember visiting him in Evanston Hospital, where he was for an extended stay, and he had asked me to bring him something to make him laugh.
I brought him the Religious “Shit Happens” list, and read it to him. He laughed so hard he cried. I laughed and cried too.
I think it is from my Dad and my experiences with my Dad that I came to appreciate Albert Camus’ absurdism and its core values of revolt, freedom, and passion. Even though I don’t think my Dad was into Camus, he upheld a lot of these principles.
Love of Learning
My Dad loved to learn and shared that love with those around him. He was a career academic, but never shied away from hard work. He was everything from a mover and truck driver to a teacher and personal librarian to W. Clement Stone.
Dad always stressed the importance of education, understanding different disciplines, and learning how to do things well. He taught middle school and directed programs for Northwestern University and Oakton Community College (where he met my Mom).
Dad had at least four degrees, to my knowledge. His concentration was in science, although I believe his doctorate was in Media Studies (but was about “how people learn”).
I didn’t want to finish high school (even though I had good grades), but Dad insisted. I made good on that. Now I have a Master’s.
I remember Dad told me a story of how he didn’t want to go to college, but his father insisted. He went away to school for one year and came back disappointed. He told his father he wasn’t going back. His father made him a bet that if he could outrun his old man down the block, he wouldn’t have to go. His father was wearing galoshes at the time (and apart from playing ball for the Decatur Staleys, was a Veteran of World War I). Dad lost the race. Dad decided to pick the hardest college he could find to get into, which was Lawrence University, figuring no one would let him in. He lost that bet too, and ended up loving it so much there that he never really left the education sphere.
Dad was always curious about how the world worked and theories about how it does. Despite some of his conservative views (sorry Dad, with what I know today I could not support Reagan), he very much had an open mind. He was reading something, always working on improving himself and his knowledge of the world around him.
Loyalty
Always learning, Dad was also always helping somebody. Dad was a fierce friend. He befriended some very unique people and stood by them. He was incredibly forgiving and generous, to a fault.
In Closing
Dad, I feel very lucky to be your son. While we only had 18 years together, they helped make me who I am. I want to thank you for our time together, wish you well wherever you are now, and thank you for meeting Mom, as I am grateful to both of you for the life I have today.