My memories of Wallace are few as a child growing up. He was just one of the "Older Boy Cousins" that were at the family dinners. There was Alma then there was me and all the rest were boys until the younger girls started, Alice, Laurie Jo and Lavona.
But the later years after we moved from St. Johns has many memories. We visited him when he lived in Showlow then he came to our wedding in 1959 along with many of the other family members.
We were traveling in 1962 to Ohio and stopped by and saw them in Kentucky. We were always welcomed with open arms. Wallace loved family and loved to visit with them and hear their stories. He was my Dad's oldest nephew and he really loved him.
Wallace came to our home in Las Vegas several times. Loved having him and Mamo here with us for a few days and Oh how they loved the Melons we kept in the fridge. He came by one time and stayed with Keone and he wanted to take him to get Prime Rib. That was a delightful visit.
Another time he came to see us my brother Jim was living here in town. We met him down at Sams Town to eat, Jim didn't know Wallace at all and was shocked at the way they looked so much alike and were alike in many other ways also. Both with their Grey hair and Grey beards.
Wallace called and came and spent a few days before fathers day 2008. He was gathering the genealogies of his families and we spent two days running off pedigree charts of our ancestors so he could take them home and brag about them in his High Priest Quorum. They were giving me a hard time because he didn't use the computer so he was going to show them just what he had and what he knew.
Wallace was a very special cousin. He was always a scolar and a gentleman. We spent several weekends in his home in St Johns when he wasn't even there and we came down for the 24th celebrations with our little children anda grandchildren. Malina says, "Isn't he the one that has the pretty back yard." We stayed there once.
I have two of his paintings, one that Aunt Anona gave me and another self portrait of his that we bought when we were there the last time. I will really miss our visits with Wallace and Margaret but I know that he is in a good place and that his back and his legs don't hurt now.
Thank you Wallace, We love you, Ron and Alta Fae and Family
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
My memories of Uncle Wallace are many. My favorite is of his story when he was stuck down in the hole, and what he learned and did down there was a great influence in my life.
I appreciate the times he took Trent out to the dump with him, Trent felt so important. I appreciate how he always treated me with kindness and respect.
We will miss him so much. And I envy him of his reunion in Heaven with Nanny, Gramps, Sybil, Lida, Aunt Ruth, Mamo and my brother. He taught me no matter how hard, just keep going.
Sonja Hancock
I appreciate the times he took Trent out to the dump with him, Trent felt so important. I appreciate how he always treated me with kindness and respect.
We will miss him so much. And I envy him of his reunion in Heaven with Nanny, Gramps, Sybil, Lida, Aunt Ruth, Mamo and my brother. He taught me no matter how hard, just keep going.
Sonja Hancock
One of my best memories of Wallace was at the Heap Reunion, watching him push all his grandchildren, and the kids that were there at the swing.
Then, 2 Heap Reunion's ago, he agreed to paint a picture of the old Heap home for Larry Von's 50th Birthday. We agreed on a price and he painted a masterpiece that touched Von's heart.
The best part was the lovely note he wrote on the back of the painting which told a story about Peggy being a great childhood friend and confidant.
We will always cherish the great memories of him.
Love, Larry Von & Rhonda Stradling
Then, 2 Heap Reunion's ago, he agreed to paint a picture of the old Heap home for Larry Von's 50th Birthday. We agreed on a price and he painted a masterpiece that touched Von's heart.
The best part was the lovely note he wrote on the back of the painting which told a story about Peggy being a great childhood friend and confidant.
We will always cherish the great memories of him.
Love, Larry Von & Rhonda Stradling
A Few of Reecie's Memories
I always thought Uncle Wallace was a good looking older man. When I was young, I thought I'd want my husband to look as nice and Uncle Wallace did when he got old. He has always looked exactly the same to me. Very few people can pass twenty some years without changing a bit, but I think Uncle Wallace did. He truly grew old gracefully.
Some of my favorite memories of Uncle Wallace came about because of his granddaughter Kanoe. She and I were the same age and one summer she came to stay with Grandma Mammo. She and I palled around a lot that summer. I stayed many a night in his living room watching old favorites like "My Fair Lady" and admiring his artistic ability. I always wanted to be an artist but was blessed with no talent. When Kanoe's family came, we had big Hawaii style meals and I learned from Mammo that you don't have to grate your cheese before you freeze it, because it crumbles by itself when you defrost it. I'm not sure why this has always stuck out to me, but I use that little morsel of information often.
One of the most fun things we did was go to the Fourth Ward Camping Trip. I remember Kanoe and I riding in Uncle Wallace's big fifth wheel and playing cards on the way up to the old Whiting Homestead. We had walkie talkie's to communicate with him and Mammo. We girls thought we were in heaven having that whole trailer to ourselves while we were driving down the road! That was probably the most fun camping trip I ever spent. Uncle Wallace and Mammo made great substitute grandparents for me that summer while Kanoe stayed with them. I will always remember their kindness to me.
On one of those overnight expeditions with Kanoe, I somehow talked Uncle Wallace into painting a painting for me. I had studied enough art in High School to know that he had a unique impressionistic style and I really liked it. I wanted one of his originals more than I was willing to express. I periodically reminded him of his promise, but he was a busy man. I secretly hoped for high school graduation that I'd get a painting, and I wasn't disappointed. He had painted me a beautiful pastel impressionistic horse. Off I went to college with my original painting from Uncle Wallace. It hung on five college apartment walls before I got married and put it in my nursery. I think that maybe I'll get a girl someday who will get this beautiful original when I die. I am grateful every time I see that painting, that I meant enough to Uncle Wallace that he took time to paint something for me. It is especially sentimental to me now. It stands as a reminder of all the kindness he has shown me in my life.
Some of my favorite memories of Uncle Wallace came about because of his granddaughter Kanoe. She and I were the same age and one summer she came to stay with Grandma Mammo. She and I palled around a lot that summer. I stayed many a night in his living room watching old favorites like "My Fair Lady" and admiring his artistic ability. I always wanted to be an artist but was blessed with no talent. When Kanoe's family came, we had big Hawaii style meals and I learned from Mammo that you don't have to grate your cheese before you freeze it, because it crumbles by itself when you defrost it. I'm not sure why this has always stuck out to me, but I use that little morsel of information often.
One of the most fun things we did was go to the Fourth Ward Camping Trip. I remember Kanoe and I riding in Uncle Wallace's big fifth wheel and playing cards on the way up to the old Whiting Homestead. We had walkie talkie's to communicate with him and Mammo. We girls thought we were in heaven having that whole trailer to ourselves while we were driving down the road! That was probably the most fun camping trip I ever spent. Uncle Wallace and Mammo made great substitute grandparents for me that summer while Kanoe stayed with them. I will always remember their kindness to me.
On one of those overnight expeditions with Kanoe, I somehow talked Uncle Wallace into painting a painting for me. I had studied enough art in High School to know that he had a unique impressionistic style and I really liked it. I wanted one of his originals more than I was willing to express. I periodically reminded him of his promise, but he was a busy man. I secretly hoped for high school graduation that I'd get a painting, and I wasn't disappointed. He had painted me a beautiful pastel impressionistic horse. Off I went to college with my original painting from Uncle Wallace. It hung on five college apartment walls before I got married and put it in my nursery. I think that maybe I'll get a girl someday who will get this beautiful original when I die. I am grateful every time I see that painting, that I meant enough to Uncle Wallace that he took time to paint something for me. It is especially sentimental to me now. It stands as a reminder of all the kindness he has shown me in my life.
My most fond memories of Wallace stem around the joy he received from painting, and also the thirst for learning new techniques, no matter how old he was.
I particularly loved his ocean and Hawaiian paintings, done with a palette knife.
He always seemed to greet us with a great big smile and had a zest for life that was contagioius.
He seemed so young, because he still had a little bounce in his step, had projects going that he was excited about, and continued to smile, no matter how he really felt.
We will miss him, but rejoice in his being free from the frailities of our earthly bodies, and the reunion he is enjoying with loved ones who have passed on.
Debbie Sherwood
I particularly loved his ocean and Hawaiian paintings, done with a palette knife.
He always seemed to greet us with a great big smile and had a zest for life that was contagioius.
He seemed so young, because he still had a little bounce in his step, had projects going that he was excited about, and continued to smile, no matter how he really felt.
We will miss him, but rejoice in his being free from the frailities of our earthly bodies, and the reunion he is enjoying with loved ones who have passed on.
Debbie Sherwood
Friday, July 17, 2009
My Memories of Tio Wallie
A few short years ago, (actually about 20), I received an early morning phone call, the conversation began something like this, “Hey Sherwood, lets go to Mexico!”. This was the beginning of one of the many adventures I have been blessed with sharing with my uncle, Wallace B. Heap, Tio Wallie to me. I guess I always felt special kinship with Wallace, and as I contemplate his passing, my mind attempts to understand this special relationship I feel we had. Very possibly having the same blood flowing through bodies and minds had a lot to do with it , but it was more than that.
It seems we thought alike about in so many areas of life. I have never personally known another soul that loved to travel the way Wallace did. The wonderful part, he liked to travel the way I did. My wife Debbie has a big heart and the patience of my old gopher catching cat Susie Pickles, who will wait hours at a fresh gopher hole for the moment the rascal pops his head up. But she just can’t get into traveling the way Wallace and I did.
The aforementioned mini adventure started as a simple trip to see the Copper Canyon in Mexico and ended in a 10 day tour to the bottom of Mexico. Wallace was a pleasure to travel with, he didn’t mind traveling “on the cheap” as he referred to getting the most out of our traveling dollars. This meant traveling on the bus, eating where the bus drivers did ,and very often sleeping on the bus while traveling at night, to allow the days for seeing the sights. This method of saving a motel bill now and then allowed us to see more, and stay longer.
With these stories, I could fill pages, and still wouldn’t do justice to the real experience. The hours on the train to Copper Canyon. The entertainment we both derived as we watched several Mexican men attempting to fix a flat with out tools, in one of the most primitive places in Mexico. In retrospect I wonder how they even got that truck there with no roads, no towns, only an old wornout 1930’s railroad, with a train running twice a day. I have wondered since how many people would have enjoyed, as much as we did, watching the working of the human minds and body’s in overcoming this chore, that would been simple in civilization, but became a major undertaking here.
The freedom we both felt when Wallace asked if I wanted to go on to Oaxaca, kinda like, “shall we stop by the store on the way home?“, was exhilarating. This poor old farm boy had no idea it was at the lower tip of Mexico, a hard days bus ride from Mexico City, which was 2 to 3 hard days on train and or bus ride from where we were. But being able to have the freedom, and the wherewith, to set out on an adventure with a good trusty travel companion, is something I think lots of people will never experience.
A one day stop over in Guadalajara, then two in Mexico City, and a few more around Oaxaca. I say around because we used the local “chicken bus” to provide transportation to the wonderful archeological sites within a few miles of town. These were special days with my personal tour guide, and it was incredible to have the time to read every word, see every artifact and quiz every stranger. In short, absorb every detail about these amazing civilizations.
I have learned from touring with larger groups that the attention span for most groups is closer to that of a teenage kid, with the “we saw it, now lets go” attitude. Wallace had been to the sites before ,but never with anyone who had just as much interest, if not more, and relished in the wonderful facts and sights that we experienced.
The Mietla Ruin site was reached on a one way local bus which required some faith, and a little apprehension, as to how we would go about getting home the 30 miles to our hotel. We ended up hitchhiking in the late afternoon and a guy in a Volkswagen bus, gave us a ride all the way back to Oaxaca. Little details like this still remain bright in my memory, though it was around 20 years ago.
While in Oaxaca, we experienced the La Dia Del Muerto and sampled chili powdered crickets, or grass hoppers, which were not something I would not try again, unless I was pretty hungry, the stickery legs didn‘t swallow well.
These long hours we spent on the bus’s and trains seeing the real Mexico also gave way to hours of story telling and other conversation. I was able to hear the real side of Wallace, a side that I had not known or heard. Wallace told of his younger years, and the difficulty of working his way through college, we discussed his world travels, and his deep very belief in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. His mission years were a pleasurable subject for him to tell, and for me to listen to. Spend ten days hour after hour with someone and you will get to know a lot about a person as us married folks can attest to. What I learned about the real Wallace Heap was all good. Wallace had many of the same struggles that I have had, but he had the deep rooted faith to overcome them, as each of us hope we can.
The struggle to make a living and just survive was immense, without your parents or family’s help, because they too were struggling to just get by, but it has been said the stronger the wind the better timber. Wallace told me his job while at college was working at a frat house where he was literally the paid servant of the rich students, who had the money to pay the poor students to do any thing they were too lazy to do themselves. But it put food on the table, (their leftovers) and he told me that he was dang glad to have what he got.
The stories of Wallace’s life were interesting and educational, but they had one central theme, he felt very blessed to have had the opportunity to have faced, what many today would throw up their hands in despair, and whine to the world they didn’t have a chance.
I know Wallace has recorded many of his growing up experiences and he has done so in a very professional and readable manner. I have copies, as I am sure many family members do, so I won’t even attempt to retell his life story. My sole intent is to honor a great man, with some of my humble, but vivid impressions of the memorable times we spent together, doing what we both loved nearly as dearly as our families, our friends and our God.
Those times consisted of admiring and discovering the varied and magnificent creations our God has placed here for our enjoyment and edification. To all of the world that doesn’t know it, Wallace B. Heap did love this big exciting world, and lived out a lifelong quest, attempting to see as much of it as possible in the years he was allowed to spend on this earth.
It seems we thought alike about in so many areas of life. I have never personally known another soul that loved to travel the way Wallace did. The wonderful part, he liked to travel the way I did. My wife Debbie has a big heart and the patience of my old gopher catching cat Susie Pickles, who will wait hours at a fresh gopher hole for the moment the rascal pops his head up. But she just can’t get into traveling the way Wallace and I did.
The aforementioned mini adventure started as a simple trip to see the Copper Canyon in Mexico and ended in a 10 day tour to the bottom of Mexico. Wallace was a pleasure to travel with, he didn’t mind traveling “on the cheap” as he referred to getting the most out of our traveling dollars. This meant traveling on the bus, eating where the bus drivers did ,and very often sleeping on the bus while traveling at night, to allow the days for seeing the sights. This method of saving a motel bill now and then allowed us to see more, and stay longer.
With these stories, I could fill pages, and still wouldn’t do justice to the real experience. The hours on the train to Copper Canyon. The entertainment we both derived as we watched several Mexican men attempting to fix a flat with out tools, in one of the most primitive places in Mexico. In retrospect I wonder how they even got that truck there with no roads, no towns, only an old wornout 1930’s railroad, with a train running twice a day. I have wondered since how many people would have enjoyed, as much as we did, watching the working of the human minds and body’s in overcoming this chore, that would been simple in civilization, but became a major undertaking here.
The freedom we both felt when Wallace asked if I wanted to go on to Oaxaca, kinda like, “shall we stop by the store on the way home?“, was exhilarating. This poor old farm boy had no idea it was at the lower tip of Mexico, a hard days bus ride from Mexico City, which was 2 to 3 hard days on train and or bus ride from where we were. But being able to have the freedom, and the wherewith, to set out on an adventure with a good trusty travel companion, is something I think lots of people will never experience.
A one day stop over in Guadalajara, then two in Mexico City, and a few more around Oaxaca. I say around because we used the local “chicken bus” to provide transportation to the wonderful archeological sites within a few miles of town. These were special days with my personal tour guide, and it was incredible to have the time to read every word, see every artifact and quiz every stranger. In short, absorb every detail about these amazing civilizations.
I have learned from touring with larger groups that the attention span for most groups is closer to that of a teenage kid, with the “we saw it, now lets go” attitude. Wallace had been to the sites before ,but never with anyone who had just as much interest, if not more, and relished in the wonderful facts and sights that we experienced.
The Mietla Ruin site was reached on a one way local bus which required some faith, and a little apprehension, as to how we would go about getting home the 30 miles to our hotel. We ended up hitchhiking in the late afternoon and a guy in a Volkswagen bus, gave us a ride all the way back to Oaxaca. Little details like this still remain bright in my memory, though it was around 20 years ago.
While in Oaxaca, we experienced the La Dia Del Muerto and sampled chili powdered crickets, or grass hoppers, which were not something I would not try again, unless I was pretty hungry, the stickery legs didn‘t swallow well.
These long hours we spent on the bus’s and trains seeing the real Mexico also gave way to hours of story telling and other conversation. I was able to hear the real side of Wallace, a side that I had not known or heard. Wallace told of his younger years, and the difficulty of working his way through college, we discussed his world travels, and his deep very belief in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. His mission years were a pleasurable subject for him to tell, and for me to listen to. Spend ten days hour after hour with someone and you will get to know a lot about a person as us married folks can attest to. What I learned about the real Wallace Heap was all good. Wallace had many of the same struggles that I have had, but he had the deep rooted faith to overcome them, as each of us hope we can.
The struggle to make a living and just survive was immense, without your parents or family’s help, because they too were struggling to just get by, but it has been said the stronger the wind the better timber. Wallace told me his job while at college was working at a frat house where he was literally the paid servant of the rich students, who had the money to pay the poor students to do any thing they were too lazy to do themselves. But it put food on the table, (their leftovers) and he told me that he was dang glad to have what he got.
The stories of Wallace’s life were interesting and educational, but they had one central theme, he felt very blessed to have had the opportunity to have faced, what many today would throw up their hands in despair, and whine to the world they didn’t have a chance.
I know Wallace has recorded many of his growing up experiences and he has done so in a very professional and readable manner. I have copies, as I am sure many family members do, so I won’t even attempt to retell his life story. My sole intent is to honor a great man, with some of my humble, but vivid impressions of the memorable times we spent together, doing what we both loved nearly as dearly as our families, our friends and our God.
Those times consisted of admiring and discovering the varied and magnificent creations our God has placed here for our enjoyment and edification. To all of the world that doesn’t know it, Wallace B. Heap did love this big exciting world, and lived out a lifelong quest, attempting to see as much of it as possible in the years he was allowed to spend on this earth.
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