Remembering Dad: His Newsletter Obituary

December 1992 
Issue 237 

WAYNE C. KOECKE 
1932-1992

With much of his family and several friends at his side, Wayne Koecke died at his home on December 16th. His vigil for life, and battle against cancer, ended on a snowy evening in a room by a window that several of his grandkids had built a snowman just outside of in hopes of raising his spirits just one more time. Somehow, we think it did. 

Remembering Dad: Thirty Years Ago Tonight

This was originally written on December 16, 2022.

* * * * * 

It was a snowy Wednesday evening when Dad took his last breath thirty years ago tonight. Though it was the most significant loss I had suffered in my first thirty-four years, my initial feeling was relief. We had pulled off Dad's wishes despite it being a harrowing six weeks since he suffered the stroke that really was the lung cancer metastasizing in his brain. He wanted to die at home, and he did.

It was my night to stay with him and my brother's night off. Our godfather, Loren, and godbrother, Tim, also rotated staying with us. There is no way that we could have pulled it off without them, and neither of them ever complained about the help he needed. After all, he was their loved one, also. 

Remembering Dad: Was it a Prank?

I don’t remember the date, but the year was 1980. I know that because it was election season, and Governor Ray was running for re-election, which made this the perfect time for someone to pull this prank.

We were in his office discussing some business when the phone rang. He answered it.

"I wouldn’t pay fifty dollars to spend the whole night with her," he said just before he slammed the phone down!

Remembering Dad: The Day May Got Him

Dad loved his family and his friends. He would go out of his way to help them on a moment’s notice. He also loved practical jokes and Sears, and May took advantage of all that this day.

May showed up at the office unexpectedly one day. She was always welcome, but this day she seemed to have a reason. She appeared agitated, so Dad invited her into his office to vent a bit.

"I’m so upset with Sears," she told him.

He assured her that Sears always makes good on any customer complaint, and always honors its warranties.

Remembering Dad: His Camera Collection

I remember the trips to Goodwill when I was a child. I always tried to sit in the center of the front bench seat when we would make the trip in his 1962 Pontiac Safari wagon. It had a type of stick shift that was known as three-on-the-tree, which meant that the three-speed transmission was shifted with a lever that came out of the steering column. I wanted that seat because Dad would let me shift the gears during the trip there and back. We would be going to Goodwill for two things: books and cameras. 

Dad bought thousands of non-fiction books over the years and built quite a library where he could slip away to read a twenty-nine-cent book about a WWII battle written by somebody who was there.

However, it wasn't the shelves and shelves of books in his library that would catch your eye. It was his display of the several hundred cameras he salvaged from the as-is bin of old cameras, most of which he paid less than a dollar for and still worked. He took great pride in his collection that he showed frequently to friends and family, especially if he wanted them to see cameras that he may have paid two or three dollars for since they last saw it.

Remembering Dad: Looking Back on the Night He Planned His Funeral

Dad was 58 years old when he was diagnosed with lung cancer. He was referred to an oncologist who told him that he had to quit smoking if he wanted an operation to remove the cancer, but that he should now get his final affairs in order regardless of his decision to quit smoking or not. Without the operation, his condition was terminal.

Mom immediately quit smoking cigarettes, and she enforced the non-smoking rule on Dad when she caught him smoking some old pipe tobacco that he had put on the shelves years before when smoking a pipe was his thing. Dad reluctantly cooperated, but he truly did quit smoking for the last two years of his life.

Remembering Dad: His Magic Garage

Dad was both an introvert and creative. He loved the time he spent downstairs reading, in his darkroom developing black and white family photos, and out in his yard making park-like scenes for family relaxation.

Despite his thousands of books, hundreds of cameras, and dozens of silent movies, his grandchildren loved his magic garage most! He had various sets up in the rafters that depicted different holidays or scenes of Americana. It was all controlled by a box with about two dozen plugs and switches wired into a framework that was about 12 inches by 18 inches and built from 2X4s. It worked, and also probably frightened any electrician who ever saw it!

Remembering Dad: Lunches with Ron MacDonald

Dad was proud to be a Marine. He would defend the Marine Corps against all other branches - except when we had lunch with Ron MacDonald. Ron was a client who worked at Westop Credit Union, and had retired from the Army as a Sergeant Major. Like Dad, Ron served during the Korean War. He also served during the Vietnam War.

Remembering Dad: He Loved Trivia, But Not Trivial Pursuit

The most difficult speech I ever gave was Dad’s eulogy. He told me he wanted me to do it shortly after learning he had cancer on the night the funeral director came over so he could get his and Mom’s arrangements out of the way. He wanted it to be light, and he wanted it to be about him.

Remembering Dad: The Rice Salad Standoff

Dad always sat at the head of the table with Maureen to his left and me to his right. I don’t remember everything we had for dinner that evening, but rice salad was part of the menu.

Dad had the bowl of it in his hand when Maureen spoke saying she didn’t want any. I added, "Me neither! It looks yucky!"

There were two quick plops of it, one on her plate and one on mine. Dad’s instructions were succinct: "Eat it."

Now there were certainly times and places to pick battles with Dad, and this was one of those times! Maureen and I could sit united in defiance of his instructions, and go on a partial hunger strike!

Remembering Dad: He Always had a List

I cannot say for certain that the stock value of the company that owned those spiral topped, pocket sized notebooks fell when Dad died in December of 1992, but it is a cinch that the number of sales of that particular item dropped.

Remembering Dad: His System of Cycling Junk

Dad was a collector of many things. He had his old cameras, his library, his painted engine collection, and hundreds of his favorite movies on VHS tapes. He was highly creative at using junk in wonderful displays, like his magic garage. However, he also was organized, and did not like junk hanging around the house.

Mom enjoyed many of his collections, and tolerated others. She also does not like junk hanging around the house, but her definition of junk differed from Dad’s definition of junk.

Remembering Dad: The Newspaper Beating

I don’t know what compelled me to sit on the porch and yell "Mr. and Mrs. Elephant" at Mr. and Mrs. Anderson as they were leaving their house and getting into their car that day. I do know, however, that I regretted it the moment I saw them heading across the street toward our house.