Wallace A. Reed
May 19, 1916 – March 7, 2014
I answered the call from my youngest sister Friday morning, “Dad is gone. He died at 7:00 this morning.” The news was not unexpected, but I still had to sit down to process it.
Two days earlier the hospice nurse told my younger brother and sister that Dad would probably not open his eyes again, but that he could still hear. My brother gave me a call. “Pat, you can talk to Dad. He’ll be able to hear you if I put the phone to his ear.” I thanked Elliott and told my Dad who I was and how much I appreciated him being my father. I also told him some stories he had told us about himself when he was a young man. When I was done, my sister told me he had raised an eyebrow one time when I was talking to him. I was hoping it was because of one of my stories…
The only time I remember Dad drinking was on New Year’s Eve. He would unlock the liquor cabinet, dust off a bottle, and we would share a drink, cigar, and some stories about life.
“With whiskey on beer you have nothing to fear, but beer on whiskey is kind of risky.”
That little ditty came at a price for Dad. He didn’t have much drinking experience when he entered the army, so when his buddies took him drinking, he learned the hard way. As the story goes, he had a few too many of these ‘boilermakers’ at the urging of his drinking friends. When he got back to the barracks, Dad knocked over every single ash tray on both sides of the walkway in getting to his bunk.
Dad was a very competitive sort. He loved to play ping pong. He had that ‘ready for anything stance.’ I can picture him staring down his unlucky opponent. I played him whenever we visited. He would let me get a little ahead and then bring out his “A game.” With his fierce stance and stare down, my game just went to hell. The single time I did beat him was a hollow victory. He was over 90 years old and we only played half a game…(he didn’t have time to bring out his A game.)
Dad playing ping pong when he’s 96 years old. He was still good.
Dad was a man of great generosity. There was a story behind that as well…When he was a young man, maybe about 2nd year of college, his Mom asked him to help her drive cross country to Vermont to visit her family for the summer. While there Dad took a job waiting tables. He said he waited on certain group of four women all summer, and they never tipped him up until the very last weekend and then they gave him a tip of only 10 cents. He was appalled! That must have made a big impression because he always tipped generously.
Before Mom died, one of her caregivers, who was from Haiti, had a son who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was arrested for robbery. Dad found out about it and went to the hearing. I had to admire Dad for going to bat for this kid. Without Dad’s help, that young man could have gotten tangled up in the county legal system for a long long time.
I have to admire Dad for other reasons too. While he was a busy busy man, he always took time to take his kids on a summer vacation. We lived in a landlocked state, but every summer we’d drive the 8 to 10 hours to the California beach to visit Grandma. Back then car radiators boiled over frequently so we’d rise at about 2 am, get into the previously loaded car and drive until daybreak. Mom had this big picnic basket stocked full of food for a breakfast at sunrise in the desert. After we crossed the Colorado River, we’d stop for lunch in Blythe at the restaurant with cockroaches running at the entrance (forever dubbed “The Cockroach Restaurant.”) Those long trips and the week vacations on the beach were so much fun. This was before television, so in the evenings we’d often play cards…canasta was big in those days. One year he treated us to a vacation at a dude ranch in Colorado. We took a train pulled by an old steam engine along a creek deep into mountain country. This place featured horseback riding and hiking trails up in the mountains. My favorite memory is of the rope swing that hung from a tall tree over a drop off. You’d swing waaay out over a cliff. I still get chills just thinking about it.
Dad knew Mom wanted to visit her family in Germany. They planned a trip to drive cross country from Phoenix, Arizona to New York, board an ocean liner, and sail to Europe…with all six kids. When we arrived we stayed in youth hostels along the Rhine River, got a ‘private audience’ with Pope John the 23rd in Rome, and visited many museums and historical monuments across Europe.
After the tragedies of September 11, Dad thought it would be a good idea to talk to his kids at least once a week. He called each of six kids on a different day of the week and talked with his brother on Sunday. Through those weekly conversations, Dad kept up with his far-away children and grandchildren. He knew the birthdays of all his grandchildren. The birthday cards were on time and always included a little something extra.
Living with a father who is always right can be difficult, but I remember one time that I was right. It was on one of those long trips through the desert that we had a tire blow out. That was in the Oldsmobile. Dad really liked that car. It had spunk, a lot of ‘get up and go.’ Dad liked that. Well here we are stranded by the side of the road in the middle of the desert with very little traffic. Dad finds the bumper jack, sets the brake, and jacks up the car. He pulls on the lug wrench til he’s red in the face, but none of those lug nuts came loose. He is so frustrated. I pipe up with what seems to be a good idea. “Dad, why don’t you turn them the other way?” Dad responds angrily, “The threads don’t go that way, I’d be tightening them up.” (I was maybe about 7 or 8 and didn’t know about the ‘righty-tighty, lefty-loosey’ rule. I just figured if it doesn’t work one way, go the other way) He struggles some more…no luck. I say again, “try it the other way.” “Pat, that won’t work, I’ll show you.” Well, for some reason on that particular model Oldsmobile in that particular year, Olds had done the unthinkable and reversed the threads on the lug nuts. The tire was changed and we were back on our way. That day back in the 50’s, that day by the side of the road in the lonely desert, that day I WAS RIGHT, and Dad had to admit it.
My older sister Barbara’s memories about vacations…”He did love that Olds. I think it was ’51, and if I recall correctly it was a coupe. Wasn’t that the car we drove up to Durango with?
I remember that tire swing at Ah! Wilderness. That was the best swing! I also remember riding that narrow gauge railway to get there, and our tiny little cabin.
My favorite vacations were at Balboa though, because of all the relatives and how beautiful it was/is. We also left early because there was no a/c in the car. Also my guess is that we were too sleepy to do much fighting. I remember the excitement of getting closer and closer, and then trying to be the first one to see the ocean. And how welcome the sea breeze was after our long drive. Grandma always had lots of food that tasted wonderful, and we would play Canasta or some other card game after dinner and laugh and laugh.” (Footnote: Barbara was ALWAYS the first one to shout, “I see the ocean.” The cool breezes of which were always a welcome change to the 110˙F heat of Phoenix.)
Kathy added this…I am remembering the frequent recitation of the attached, most vividly as the car was being started in the old carport.” Love is
My youngest sister painted a mandala in memory of Dad.
The strong confidence and fierce competitiveness served Dad well. He was an established anesthesiologist in a growing city, but he felt bad about the high cost of health care. He and his partner set out to change that. He figured that if patients did NOT stay overnight for procedures that didn’t require it, they could be charged less…much less. He and his partner, John L. Ford built the first Ambulatory Surgical Centers (ASC). And when he built it, he built it ACROSS THE STREET from a giant hospital.
When you read the obituary, Dad’s Obituary it’ll list all kinds of accomplishments. It makes Dad seem larger than life. In a way he is.
Now Dad, when you are playing ping pong with the Man upstairs, don’t bring out your A game. I’m just saying…

1937…Dad is on his way to Cologne, Germany, to meet my Mom to be…He met her the year before in Burlington, Vermont, when he was visiting Grandma’s relations and where Mom was a foreign exchange student. Smitten with her, he returned to California to finish college and promised Mom he would visit her in Germany after graduation. Soon after he arrived in Germany he and Mom went to apply for a marriage license. The authorities tried to persuade Mom NOT to marry an American, but she wouldn’t listen. By this time, Dad had learned enough German to attend med school in Germany…Guess Mom was a good teacher. Picture submitted by my older sister Barbara.

Dad with a 1940 Chevrolet. This was around the time he entered medical school. That Chevy hauled our family across the desert to Phoenix, Arizona in 1948. My older sister Barbara got to drive it when she was in high school. She says…”When I was 16 I got to drive it when Ellen wasn’t driving. By that time it had only one gear, second, and the horn honked when it turned the corner.”

Around 1940, Mom is holding my oldest sister, Ellen, Dad is looking on, and Dad’s sister, Betty, and brother, Bob, to his right.
This was beautifully put, Dad. I think Opa would appreciate your kind remembrances. A great tribute for a remarkable man.
Thank you, drone122. He was fun to be with especially away from work. He taught us how to play cards and would really get into it. He even bought poker chips for ‘poker night.’
So sorry to hear about your loss Pat, but I’m heartened to here about the wonderful and fulfilling life that your father had and the memories that will stay with you for ever. I’m sure he will look upon you and your siblings with pride from his new office. Best wishes, Eddy, Gosia and the Winkette.
Thanks, Eddy. He had a full life indeed, not afraid to take a chance when the odds were against him. I’m told that at one time the insurance companies didn’t want to insure him. He ‘went bare,’ (insurance speak for not being covered by malpractice insurance.) He could have lost everything including his home if anyone sued him.
A lovely memorial. My condolences to you and the family. Amelia
Thanks, Amelia.
Very nice tribute, Pat. I did not know some of those stories and they made me smile. I knew you were a great photographer, but when did you get to be such a good story teller? Thank you for putting this together.
Thanks, Barbara. I love your memory of the old Chevy and how it honked when it turned a corner. I seem to recall you telling Dad how your high school friends reacted when they heard you driving. 🙂
I’m very sorry for your loss. Your father sounds like an amazing man. I’m glad you had so many wonderful years with him.
An amazing man for sure. When we were young he took us to the big amusement park in Long Beach, CA. I think it was called “The Pike.” It featured a 1/2 mile long roller coaster. He rode that wild ride as many times as we wanted to, which usually ended up being twice. I can still imagine the ‘click, click, click’ sound as the coaster climbed upward knowing that we couldn’t change our minds at that point.
Wow, I think I would have really liked your dad! It sounds like he was a very special person. This post was a wonderful tribute to your father. Thanks for sharing.
Driving cross-country 2500 miles in a station wagon with 6 kids deserves some kind of medal if not candidacy for sainthood. He wasn’t afraid to tackle the challenges.
My condolences to you and your family, Pat. Sounds like your dad was a great guy.
Thanks, Michael. The nursing staff who worked for him liked him too. When Dad retired at around 80 years old to take care of Mom, the corporation that took over the facility wanted to reduce costs by cutting back on the nurses salaries. Dad tells them, “You can’t do that. This facility depends on the excellent care provided by the nursing staff. If you cut their wages, there will be too much turn-over.” The corporation backed down. Some of those nurses worked over 40 years. When Dad needed care, the “Surgicenter Sweethearts” came to his aid. They would take turns bringing dinner to him. This went on for years. Now that is dedication and loyalty.
What a beautiful celebration & tribute to your Dad. What a man, what a life! Thank you so much for sharing.
I especially love the story you shared of talking to your Dad in his last days. I’m so glad your brother had the awareness to put that call in to you. As a hospice volunteer, it is such an honor & a gift to sit with people in their dying process. There’s so much going on that we don’t know. I see profound & subtle responses & sensitivity as people are spoken to, receive gentle touch or reiki, or feeling the emotionally presence in their rooms even as they go further within & withdraw from this world…
Sending you all much love & light. ❤
Thank you so much for writing. That was so thoughtful. Yes, I’m glad my brother put me on. I wasn’t sure if Dad would hear me or respond, but he did. My sister was kind to mention it to me. I will pass your thoughts to them when I see them in a couple of days. Thanks again.
Thank you, Pat. Memories are so important and it is almost a duty to record and pass them on.
Thanks, Hal. Having read some of Patti’s accounts of her relatives in Curry County, (very thick and complete books), I’d have to agree with you.
I am sorry for your loss. Your dad sounded like a wonderful man. I love the pictures. Nice to read about his efforts to reduce costs in healthcare.
Yes, he was a wonderful man. When my wife and family attended the funeral we found out that more than just the family would realize the loss. He was a real community minded man. He will be missed.
Sorry to read this – yet I read it with pleasure because of the love; yours for him, his for the world, family, strength.
Thanks, Lucy. One of the speakers at the funeral mentioned something from way back. When I was a kid, Dad’s partner belonged to the country club. His kids got to swim at the private pool. That’s a real privilege when you live in the hot desert. I asked Dad why we didn’t get to do that. He stated it strongly…”I will NOT belong to an organization that prohibits Jews and African-Americans from joining.” I was real proud of him for that, and was happy to hear it stated again.
Thanks for the portrait of a good guy and a straight shooter. Now I see where you came from. I had a 42 Chevy in high school in the 50’s!
My love and affection to your family,
Terry
Thanks, Terry. Yes, he was a good guy. He took care of Mom when she had Alzheimer’s Disease for 15 or so years. Instead of placing her in a rest home, he brought in care givers to work with her…doing artwork, physical therapy, music and speaking German (her native language) to her.
Sorry to hear about the loss of your Dad. What a lovely tribute to a long life, well lived. I love that story about the one time you were right with a man who was always right, reminds me of my own Dad who passed ten years ago. Still playing ping pong at 96 is truly a wonderful thing, may there be ping pong every day in the hereafter!
Thanks, df. He was a very good ping-pong player into his 90’s and he had the look, that competitive posture that says, “I’m going to win no matter how far ahead you are right now.” 😉
I have missed some of your posts…somehow.
This is such a beautiful tribute to your father. You are very fortunate to have these wonderful memories. Although I did not know your father, I feel enriched and uplifted to read about his goodness.