Time Marches On: A Big Birthday and a Big Loss

I am due for an update on our doings in New Zealand and future plans now that the pandemic seems to be coming under control. Fayne and I will be fully vaccinated April 20th and anticipate our long-overdue US visit May 20th. However, two monumental milestones in my life have already occurred in 2021: my 70th birthday and my father passing away. When I last posted in December 2020, I had just reluctantly accepted that returning to the USA as planned before my January birthday was nothing short of folly. I had already planned a 70th birthday celebration hosting some of my closest Timaru friends to dinner at our favorite restaurant, the Oxford. Fayne had carte blanche to order cake,  which resulted in this magnificent two-layer chocolate and vanilla masterpiece.

A very good time and a beautiful meal were enjoyed by all.

Top L to R: Matthew, Thomas, Camille, Simone, Genie, Jane, Steve, Keith, Paul, Ballard, Frank, with Maree to the right of Fayne

 

For my stateside celebration, I had hoped for a modest affair, having take-out prime rib from San Francisco's House of Prime rib in Athena's backyard with a small group. Since that was not to be, so I had hoped for a Zoom dinner, with each of us having our own prime rib. Here is the beef Fayne cooked for us.

Unbeknownst to me sinister forces were plotting a much grander surprise. As I sat down to enjoy an intimate virtual dinner, one by one faces from literally every phase of my life popped up on screen, until more than 40 appeared. 

There was family of course (sisters, Sofia and all the Heards, the Hedden in-laws), de facto family (Nestlers, David N) and my work family (Linnea, Terry, physician colleagues). Loved ones and dear friends from childhood, high school, college (both undergraduate and medical school), Watsonville, Dixon, Berkeley, Fort Bragg, even Timaru (Florry), all joined. Especially moving was how many of Sofia's Fort Bragg friends took the time to wish me Happy Birthday, former kids, now grown women with kids, that we shared so much time and memories with (Keilah, Mahkayla, Shannon, and Catherine). Above are two representative mosaic showing so many people in a grid (thanks to MC and brother-in-law Cory), but if some participants out there had the foresight to grab other screen shots, please send them on to me.

People shared memories and photos, and some gentle roasting went on. For those under 40, pardon these dated references, but was part This Is Your Life, part It's a Wonderful Life, and part peeking in on your own funeral. I was sincerely and deeply humbled and honored by such a turnout. It went on for two hours, and it was the largest "gathering" of people dear to me since the April 2010 Greek Easter celebration (AKA: The Best Greek Easter Ever®) shortly before we set out on  our Gilliganesque "two-hour tour" to New Zealand. My deepest thanks to everyone who participated. It was magical.

John T Wallace (Sept. 3, 1925-April 5, 2021)

My father died this week in San Diego, CA. He was 95½ and lived a long, full, rich life. He was literally an extraordinary man, an unforgettable wild and adventurous character, with more than a dash of narcissism. It often wasn’t easy to live with, but he made an indelible impression on those with whom he crossed paths.

Dad with Xania, Coronado CA

Displaying an idiosyncratic fashion sense, he was called Señor Blanco for his penchant of dressing all in white with a bolo tie and a silver ponytail protruding from beneath his Panama hat. He was very passionate about what interested him, but when he was done with something, he was done. He was in his mid-thirties when he drove past a California ski-field and decided he would rent some skis, go to the top, and plummet down with no idea how to do it. This led to years dragging whichever family member was around for manic weekends in the snow. (My personal memories include many cold and wet times, sleeping in fields by the roadside, and scorching hot air blowing on my feet in our 1960’s VW bug.) He was The Leader of the Pack, Wallace branch.

In his mid-sixties, he took off to Latin America, and although none of us lost touch, he never truly returned. He divorced my mother and remarried Ruth from Guatemala, and over the last 30 years they worked their way up from Antigua to Oaxaca, Mexico, to Ensenada, and finally to San Diego. I had very memorable visits with him in these exotic places. When it started out, his spirit was very much like a young college student on a gap year, an experience he missed earlier. Like many of the WWII generation, he was hardly out of childhood when by the age of 30 in 1955 after briefly serving in the Navy, graduating from college and medical school, he moved the family of seven from Kentucky to California in a Pontiac station wagon. The sixth child, Margaret, arrived in 1960.

Louisville, KY 1955

Like many of us, I am sure he didn’t fully realize the impact he had on so many others. During my Zoom birthday party, Bill Nestler reminisced about exciting it was to come to our house in the 50’s and 60’s and seeing my father so full of life. The sight and smell of a whole lamb roasting on a spit and the cracking of blood-red eggs in the backyard of a tract home on Greek Easter were considered bizarre pagan rituals in Watsonville, CA circa 1960.

His life came to a peaceful end after enduring a particularly difficult last two years. He did not want to die but eventually decided he did not want to keep living as he was. I had hoped that he would hold on a little longer for me to see him and be beaten in gin rummy one last time, but he was never like that. Like Sinatra, he did things his way until the very end. What I owe him and my mother cannot be measured, as in every way I would not be who I am without them.

Medical School Graduation with Yaiyai

 He was a restless soul finally at rest. Adios and Godspeed.

I do very soon plan another posting, once more highlighting our New Zealand travels, including a recent medical conference in Rotorua, but that will wait for now.

March 25, 2021 at the INSANZ Meeting in Rotorua