I had an opportunity to collect my thoughts and memories of my dad over the last few days of his life, sometimes you never get to truly express how you feel about the people you love until that are gone. First on behalf of my sisters and myself thank you all for being here as we celebrate Marion “Moosie” Wallace. As I reflect on dad’s life and who he was as a man and father I came to a realization that my dad was a true hero. Like other kids I idolized sports figures and celebrities and honestly said “I don’t want to grow up to be like him…” I stand before you today to let you know that I am proud to say my dad was my hero and I aspire to be the man he was!
I’m going to ask you all to bear with me for a few minutes as I take you along the journey through the memories that brought me to where I stand today. My first memory of my dad was on January 26th, 1967 the day of the worst blizzard in Chicago history. That day dad did what he did almost every day I can remember, he went to work. I remember the snow starting to pile up and being excited about all the snow! But I was also aware of the worried look on my mom’s face as evening came, not really understanding what was going on…I remember her going to the back window several times, she as looking for that green Pontiac to pull up in the driveway as it did every evening. Suddenly the back door flew open and first the snow spilling in followed by dad, covered in snow, and heard him say “shit its cold out there!” He had walked almost two miles from Material Service in over two feet of snow with drifts up to 10 feet.
The second hero moment came one summer, Sundays where family gathering time on Sherman Avenue, most of those days where spent with food and laughter but on this particular day we went to play baseball at Nichols School, dad loved baseball and especially the Dodgers (I’ll get to that next). My memory was dad coming up to bat lefty and crushing a ball over the tall fence on the Sherman side and it bounced into the yard of the woman whose grass we (me) had cut the day before, next to Evanston Lumber. I clearly remember him trotting around the bases, the first time and I think last time I saw him running, talking trash as he went.
Which brings me to the Dodgers, dad worked with a guy (I think his name was Ron) who had season tickets and every time the Dodgers where in town he would either give dad the tickets or invite him and me to the game. The seats where front row right behind the Cubs dugout and I remember many afternoons getting peanuts, one tightly wrapped hot dog with nothing on it a drink and a score card. Dad taught me how to keep score and I also got to talk to players like Ernie Banks and Fergie Jenkins! Dad allowed it even though he was really there for the Dodgers.
These are just a few examples of how a son sees his dad through child’s eyes, I could spend hours talking about those things. But I stand here today to tell you the real reason my dad is and will always be my hero. Dad was a provider! We all know how cheap he was and I’ll use my first of many Moosieisms here “He was tighter than Dick’s hatband” I didn’t find out until recently that there was no guy named Dick and it wasn’t a Dobb’s he was talking about.
Our father gave us an opportunity to grow up as middle class Black Americans in the 60’s and 70’s, we got to live in a truly diverse neighborhood, he provided a home where family was always welcome, I can honestly not remember a Sunday when there was not an extended family member at our house at some point during those days. The true paradox of my dad was that we grew up thinking he was selfish because of his cheapness but he was so rich in family and that richness was his gold!
I’ll close with what has become one of my favorite Moosie-isms and it actually is a very loose translation of the Bible verse taken from James chapter 2 “Faith without works is dead” or as a Moosie would apply it “Wish in one hand and shit in the other…see which one fills up faster” I now realize that even though dad would never talk about his dreams and aspirations for him and his family, his wishes were his faith and this FAITH was why he worked so hard as anyone can attest. And although the other hand may have filled up faster he also got to watch the WISH hand catch up and pass it!
Thank you dad for being my hero and teaching how to be a man. I Love You!
