I just returned a few minutes ago from the visitation for our good friend Sam Waller…. and although I wouldn’t have thought it possible, I think I walked out of there loving the guy even more than when I walked in. First there was that throng – an amazing array of people – crowded into that small country church to pay their respects. At a glance you knew that we were paying tribute to a truly extraordinary human being who had touched so many people. And on a screen in the church narthex were slides of Sam in action- sailing, hunting, cooking, gardening, laughing, playing . . . living life so vibrantly. You couldn’t help but smile, even as the lump in your throat grew larger by the moment. And at the front of the sanctuary was Sam’s beautiful widow, Paula, her siblings and parents – plus Sam’s mother and sisters – all receiving our love and concern with such graciousness and gratitude. We were there to try and bolster their spirits, but I think we walked away as uplifted by them as they were by us.
As I stood in line tonight, awaiting the chance to speak with Paula, I found myself reflecting on what made Sam such a fascinating and fun person to be with. It was partly that he was such a smart and inquisitive guy, always ready to explore something new. It was also that he had such affection for people and was far too busy accentuating the positive to waste much time talking about the negative. I also loved his intriguing blend of classy elegance with down-to-earth directness. This is someone with an appreciation of beautiful things who also loved to work up a sweat and get his hands dirty. And I loved that Sam, for all of his gifts and skills – which were considerable – was happiest rejoicing in the exploits and achievements of others, and had this way of making you feel like you were this exceptionally special person that he was so fortunate to have as a friend.
One of my very happiest memories of Sam dates back to the European tour undertaken by the Carthage Alumni Choir under the direction of Dr. John Windh back in 1997. Both Sam and I were along as the spouses of Carthage grads, and it was during that trip that I really got to know Sam for the first time. When the choir got to Vienna, there was one thing I was bound and determined to do— attend the Vienna State Opera, one of the most gorgeous and historically important opera houses in the world. I went one night to see Verdi’s “Don Carlo” and loved it so much that I came back the next night to see Wagner’s “Tannhauser.” Both performances were sold out, but I was able to get standing room tickets (which were ridiculously inexpensive). I’m not exactly sure what most piqued Sam’s curiosity, but he asked if he could join me for Tannhauser…. and even after I warned him that it was an especially long opera, he still very much wanted to go. And he did! But afterwards, what Sam would talk about more than anything was how much fun it was for us during intermission to talk with the opera fans who were up there in standing room with us. . . and Sam would go on and on about how these people seemed truly fascinated by what I had to say about opera life back in America. “It was like you were holding court,” Sam laughingly said, “and they were hanging on your every word!” To this day, I think Sam might have been overstating it just a bit, but then again it was just like him to find such delight in the joys of others, and I lost count of how many times he retold this story to me over the intervening years. But what I love the most about that night at the opera was that Sam, with little or no previous exposure to opera, was willing to take a chance with it. . . much more quickly and enthusiastically than I would have been if he had ever asked me to join him on a hunting trip! Standing in line tonight gave me a chance to think back on these and other fond memories of this exceptionally wonderful guy.
But what affected me more powerfully than anything else tonight was the sight of Sam’s many nieces and nephews, all there to honor the memory of their beloved uncle. Sam’s mother- in-law, Katherine Heide, told me that one of her nephews and said to her, in all sincerity, “what are we going to do now for fun?!?” Sam adored his nieces and nephews and loved spending time with them- and in fact was on a outing with many of them to the Pettit Ice Arena in Milwaukee when he was stricken with the heart attack that claimed his life. I am so sorry that they were there to see something so awful- but on the other hand, it’s neat that Sam’s last minutes of life were spent with Paula and other family members who meant the world to him and gave him such joy.
There are some people who believe that God is in control of everything – and all that happens to us is directed by Him, for reasons which may make no sense to us now but which are part of some great plan that we may not ever fully understand while in this earthly life. There are others who believe that God allows us to live in an imperfect world in imperfect bodies that sometimes subject us to terrible suffering and tragedy, and that God grieves along with us even while comforting us and creating blessing out of our sorrows. I don’t want to say anything that would cast doubt on either scenario; I want people to find comfort wherever they find it. (I know which of those scenarios I embrace.) What I will say that is I count myself incredibly fortunate to have known Sam Waller and to have been one of his many friends. And in the wake of his unexpected and untimely death, I find myself newly grateful for every breath I take- and indeed profoundly thankful for each new morning that I’m blessed to see. And as I think about and try to imagine the sort of grief which my brother-in-law Mark must be feeling right now, having lost his best friend, I find myself, as I’m sure many people are right now, reflecting on how it is our closest friends who help to give our lives their brightest, boldest colors. As I walked through that long receiving line, it was so powerful to see Paula nestled in the midst of her large and amazing family, and it was as bold a statement as I can ever remember of the unshakable foundation which family can and should be, especially in the midst of life’s darkest moments. . . drawing me back to November of 1988 when I stood in a similar sort of line with my family in the wake of my mom’s sudden and completely unexpected death, also in her 50’s – way too soon. And for all the heartbreak that his nieces and nephews are feeling right now, the death of their Uncle Sam has newly taught them the lesson that he was already teaching them (and all of us) in how he lived: that life is incredibly precious. . . and that there is nothing more important than loving and being loved.
pictured above: Sam with one his young nephews helping prepare the day-after-Thanksgiving brunch that has become a much loved tradition in that household. The two of them are busy making Danish Aebleskivers, which are sort of like spherical pancakes. I smile when I think about everything that Sam managed to teach his nieces and nephews over the years and all of the reasons they have to be grateful for having known him and been loved by him.