I remember the purple irises Ed gave me from his garden. I planted them in mine and they have continued to be the most prolific bloomers every year. Those irises will live on and always remind me of Ed, his love for his family, the outdoors and gardening.
Barbara Graham
I actually watched him catch a lizard with a blade of grass. I half thought he and the lizard had planned this little abracadabra together.
Jean Arnett
Hello,
I was just getting to know him when he fell ill some time ago. He is deeply missed at the college.
Brian C. Wainscott, Professor
Dept. of Biological Sciences
I teach biology at the college and shared an interest in sailing with Ed.
I've been missing his company for nearly 5 years. And now the entire earth will miss him.
Sincerely,
Denise Signorelli Ph.D., Biology Professor
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Memories from Steve Hall
For Eddy
The Eschners and Halls became across-the-street neighbors on Grandview Drive in Fullerton, California in the 1950's. Four Eschner kids, six Halls. Thru the years, a closeness, a loving bond between the two families has formed and I feel deeply the death of Eddy Eschner.
The Eschner family house where Eddy grew up backs up to what is locally called, "The Gully": a verdant, unspoiled natural park of several acres replete with majestic oak trees, native grasses and even a creek. It was there that all the neighborhood kids played 'til the sun went down having dirt clod fights, digging for trap-door spiders and endlessly "messing around" within this unique oasis that had been left in its natural state as if suspended in time amid a suburban southern California neighborhood.
Eddy was several years my junior so our paths never crossed playing in the gully, but I'll bet you a dollar to a dough nut that some of Eddy's love of the earth and its creatures came from his carefree days in the gully exploring the grass green, oak-tree-brown and mustard yellow expanse of his "back yard."
Over the years, thru the Eschner/Hall grapevine, I'd hear of Eddy's milestones...his move to Nevada, his marriage, his children, his Masters degree, his teaching position. And whenever I heard an Eddy update I'd always think, "There's someone living a good life, doing his thing, earning a good living in his chosen field."
And when I'd see Eddy at the occasional Christmas Day visit to the Eschners, I remember well his smiling, bearded face and the ever-present twinkle in his eye.
And that twinkle was there the last time I saw Eddy in May of this year. Though somewhat hobbled by the effects of the brain tumor, his special zest for living was readily apparent as we shared a hug.
I count myself lucky to be a part of the Eschner/Hall "family" and I'm proud to have walked the same gully and the same earth as Eddy Eschner.
Steve Hall. Nov. 13, 2007
The Eschners and Halls became across-the-street neighbors on Grandview Drive in Fullerton, California in the 1950's. Four Eschner kids, six Halls. Thru the years, a closeness, a loving bond between the two families has formed and I feel deeply the death of Eddy Eschner.
The Eschner family house where Eddy grew up backs up to what is locally called, "The Gully": a verdant, unspoiled natural park of several acres replete with majestic oak trees, native grasses and even a creek. It was there that all the neighborhood kids played 'til the sun went down having dirt clod fights, digging for trap-door spiders and endlessly "messing around" within this unique oasis that had been left in its natural state as if suspended in time amid a suburban southern California neighborhood.
Eddy was several years my junior so our paths never crossed playing in the gully, but I'll bet you a dollar to a dough nut that some of Eddy's love of the earth and its creatures came from his carefree days in the gully exploring the grass green, oak-tree-brown and mustard yellow expanse of his "back yard."
Over the years, thru the Eschner/Hall grapevine, I'd hear of Eddy's milestones...his move to Nevada, his marriage, his children, his Masters degree, his teaching position. And whenever I heard an Eddy update I'd always think, "There's someone living a good life, doing his thing, earning a good living in his chosen field."
And when I'd see Eddy at the occasional Christmas Day visit to the Eschners, I remember well his smiling, bearded face and the ever-present twinkle in his eye.
And that twinkle was there the last time I saw Eddy in May of this year. Though somewhat hobbled by the effects of the brain tumor, his special zest for living was readily apparent as we shared a hug.
I count myself lucky to be a part of the Eschner/Hall "family" and I'm proud to have walked the same gully and the same earth as Eddy Eschner.
Steve Hall. Nov. 13, 2007
Memories from Samantha Daily
My name is Samantha and I was the daughter of Eddy's neighbor Robin when he lived on Miratan St. The website said to write in with any fond memories of Eddy and there are so many that I can not just think of one. I remember growing up and always going over to Eddy to see what he was doing in the front yard. He was always planting something new or tending to something. He taught me so many things growing up from rocks and gems to the different kinds of clouds outside. As I became older, Eddy continued to teach me. When getting ready to go to college, he was right there by my side. He took me to the college, helped me with all of my classes, and prepared me for the next few years. He was probably one of the greatest mentors anyone could ever have and I just wish that everyone could have someone like him by their side when preparing the endeavor that college holds. If it wasn't for him, I am not sure if college would have been as successful as it has been. I now live in the house that Eddy and Wendy once occupied and have all of the fond memories everyday, even the time I fell in the cactus, of the things that he has taught me.
Eve's Memories of Ed
Early Memories of Eddy circa 1966-76
There I was six years old, playing in my sand box outside the back door, all by myself. I piled sand up into a nice sized hill and began to fashion it into what I imagined to be a magnificent castle. Like all castles facing siege, along came my slightly older brother, Eddy, performing the perfectly executed role of marauder. With one swift kick and merciless giggles, my sand castle was gone. I cried and screamed and yelled for mom who clearly told Eddy to stop bothering me.
Satisfied that he had been turned away, I began yet again to pile up sand into a nice sized hill to transform into my second sand castle of the day. Just when it started to take on a satisfying form, swiftly and without warning the army of one snuck out of nowhere and kicked my sand castle down again!
This time, his laughter together with my screaming and crying shook the house; mom came running to see what was the matter and once again scolded Eddy. She hauled him away with strict instructions to leave me alone. But I knew that look in his eye that he shot me over his shoulder. I knew that look said that I—the little sister, and my sand castles were not really safe no matter what mom did or said. Eddy had watched too many episodes of The Three Stooges and knew far too many ways to torture me. For now, this one was working much to his delight and I didn’t have much hope that he would actually leave me alone.
As I sat in the sand box pondering the problem the saying “Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me” crossed my mind. Clearly, if I believed that my sand castle would be safe a third time I was a complete idiot. As the queen of the castle protecting my turf, I knew I would need to be equally cunning as my attacker—if not more so.
That is when my eyes fell upon a loose cinder block in the yard. Eddy was not the only one who had watched The Three Stooges; my plan began to form. I looked around to see if he was watching; satisfied that he was not, I grabbed that brick and quickly put it in the sand box piling my sand all around it; quite contentedly crafting my castle around its hidden weapon.
Just like the wolf in the Three Little Piggies, (who had huffed and puffed and blown the first two houses, but was no match for the brick house) Eddy snuck out of nowhere to once again wreck havoc upon my castle and me. This time however, I put up little if any protest once I saw him coming. He descended upon me and with one huge satisfying kick he nearly broke his foot.
This time it was me who was laughing and Eddy who was crying and screaming for Mom! He was insistent that I had hurt him, but I smugly pointed out to the judge and jury that I hadn’t done anything but build a stronger castle—one that he had been forbidden not once, but twice to kick down!
***
Ed and I were typical brother and sister…while the above was one of my prouder moments of the one time in all of history that I had actually out-smarted him (and of course my favorite story), the truth is that most of my life Ed was my dear companion and teacher. I remember way, way back in the sixties when we played music on little 45 RPM records (remember those?) that Eddy and I were in the playroom listening to Crimson and Clover and dancing up on the couch like we were on American Bandstand. Ed looked over, assessed my dancing style and said, “That is pretty good, Evey, but you need to use your arms more,” and proceeded to throw his arms up in the air in time to music demonstrating how to do it. Impressed by my older brother’s ability, I carefully tried to imitate him. Now, I kid you not, every time I have found myself on a dance floor over the last forty years, including just recently, I will be contentedly dancing when I hear this sweet little voice say, “That is pretty good, Evey, but you need to use your arms more.” To the unsuspecting onlooker, it would appear that I suddenly had an energy surge or heard a louder version of the song that is playing because suddenly my arms will shoot up into the air in a much more pronounced way. That is when I am suddenly dancing with my brother.
***
And then there were the animals….Eddy was truly Mother Nature’s Son. He had every animal imaginable when we were growing up. Not because he wanted to trap them and cage them but quite simply because he loved them….and they seemed to love him too because they kept coming into his life by the droves, or flocks, or coveys… He would find animals that were hurt and nurse them back to health, he would find eggs and incubate and hatch them, he would buy them at the pet shop, he would find them in the oddest places trap them and bring them home.
He had Rocky and Beastie the raccoons—one of which Eddy saved all of his money up to buy and the other which he managed to trap with a Have-A-Heart Trap in a not to be named State Park, which dad let him take home only because it bit Eddy. He wanted to be sure to have the raccoon so he could watch for signs of rabies. Of course, I was his accomplice running around the area setting the traps and looking for signs of raccoons. He taught me how to identify their tracks and told me all about the habitats that they liked the most. Of course, there was the time when Rocky, our beloved pet coon, turned wild, escaped, broke into the house and attacked my dad’s foot causing him to get stitches and Rocky and Beastie both to be deported back into wild, but that was another story.
Ed had other animals, too: pet tarantulas, snakes, iguana, chameleons, camine (baby crocodiles), frogs, turtles, tortoise, ducks, chickens, fish, pheasants, quail, crows, owls, homing pigeons, a dog, cats, rats, mice, hampsters and roosters (MEAN roosters as I recall!). Our elementary school used to take field trips to our house because it was like going to a little zoo. The cool thing though was that Eddy knew how to take care of all these creatures. He knew how to care for them and how to feed them. As the little sister, it was often my job to assist him on food gathering missions. These were some of my favorite times with Eddy. Off we would go through the neighborhood looking for earthworms in the great big puddle that would form along the curb on the corner of Valley View and Grandview. We would pick Hibiscus for our iguana from the neighbor’s yard. They had big beautiful flowers that the iguanas loved to eat in exaggerated gulps.
Ed was equally loving and care-full when one of his beloved pets died. We had what had to be one of the most extensive pet cemeteries in all of Fullerton.
Does anyone remember the time that Eddy brought his tarantula to high school in a basket with a lid, waiting for unsuspecting girls to ask him what was in his basket? When they would ask what was inside, he would say, “Nothing.” Not believing he would carry a basket around all day with nothing in it they would grab at it, get it away from him (with only faked resistance from Ed) only to find when they opened the lid a huge hairy spider inside. Screams would follow, the basket would be dropped, the tarantula would be loose at school, and Eddy would scoop it up, return it to its basket and wait for the next unsuspecting girl who would ask him what was in it.
***
My other favorite of memories was going out stomping in wild weather. Eddy was an outdoor kind of guy from the very, very beginning. He loved a good storm so when it started raining, that was no reason to stay indoors! Off we would go to stomp and splash in puddles, or stand at the top of Grandview and hold on to our umbrellas in just the right position so that the wind would catch it just right. Eddy would instruct me on the perfect time, along with the perfect gust of wind, to let go and we would laugh joyfully as our umbrellas flew all by themselves all the way down the street. Off we would go in the wind and the rain running after them, only to haul them back up to the top of the hill to do it all again. It wasn’t exactly good for the umbrella, but it certainly was good for us!
***
Another favorite childhood memory was when all four of the Eschner kids, and undoubtedly a few of the neighbors too, would play “River.” As I recall, we would turn on a hose at the top of our property and build rivers that crisscrossed, intersected, raced and eventually merged in the bathtub sized lake we made at the bottom of the property. Hours and hours of play (and untold volumes of water) filled many a day as we floated army men, boats, leaves or whatever we could find down the rivers we had made.
Oh and the wheel barrow rides! Dad would haul Eddy and me all over the back yard. This was the best!
***
While Eddy could certainly be a prankster, and often a little sister’s worst nightmare, he was also my best friend when we were growing up. I even remember sharing dreams with him. Our bedrooms were right next to each other’s and we would go to bed, I would dream of flying with Eddy. We were usually on the field at Golden Hill School and we would run and then, suddenly we could take off and fly all over the place together! In the morning I would tell him that I had a flying dream with him and he would always assure me that he knew, that he had been there too. I am not sure at what age I finally decided that our flights had to be dreams, but prior to that age of grown-up practicality, I KNEW Eddy and I could really fly.
•••
Always, always, always, Eddy’s life was about nature, the wild, being outdoors, protecting the earth, teaching others about its wonderful and varied creatures, loving deeply and passionately—and being a bit of trickster too. He was like Wiley Coyote meets Willy Wonka (the Gene Wilder version) meets Dumbledore, meets Native American Shaman. Okay, okay, meets Mo, Curly and whatever the third stooge was named, meets Doctor Doolittle and The Little Rascals.
He was magical, he was my brother and I was blessed.
There I was six years old, playing in my sand box outside the back door, all by myself. I piled sand up into a nice sized hill and began to fashion it into what I imagined to be a magnificent castle. Like all castles facing siege, along came my slightly older brother, Eddy, performing the perfectly executed role of marauder. With one swift kick and merciless giggles, my sand castle was gone. I cried and screamed and yelled for mom who clearly told Eddy to stop bothering me.
Satisfied that he had been turned away, I began yet again to pile up sand into a nice sized hill to transform into my second sand castle of the day. Just when it started to take on a satisfying form, swiftly and without warning the army of one snuck out of nowhere and kicked my sand castle down again!
This time, his laughter together with my screaming and crying shook the house; mom came running to see what was the matter and once again scolded Eddy. She hauled him away with strict instructions to leave me alone. But I knew that look in his eye that he shot me over his shoulder. I knew that look said that I—the little sister, and my sand castles were not really safe no matter what mom did or said. Eddy had watched too many episodes of The Three Stooges and knew far too many ways to torture me. For now, this one was working much to his delight and I didn’t have much hope that he would actually leave me alone.
As I sat in the sand box pondering the problem the saying “Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me” crossed my mind. Clearly, if I believed that my sand castle would be safe a third time I was a complete idiot. As the queen of the castle protecting my turf, I knew I would need to be equally cunning as my attacker—if not more so.
That is when my eyes fell upon a loose cinder block in the yard. Eddy was not the only one who had watched The Three Stooges; my plan began to form. I looked around to see if he was watching; satisfied that he was not, I grabbed that brick and quickly put it in the sand box piling my sand all around it; quite contentedly crafting my castle around its hidden weapon.
Just like the wolf in the Three Little Piggies, (who had huffed and puffed and blown the first two houses, but was no match for the brick house) Eddy snuck out of nowhere to once again wreck havoc upon my castle and me. This time however, I put up little if any protest once I saw him coming. He descended upon me and with one huge satisfying kick he nearly broke his foot.
This time it was me who was laughing and Eddy who was crying and screaming for Mom! He was insistent that I had hurt him, but I smugly pointed out to the judge and jury that I hadn’t done anything but build a stronger castle—one that he had been forbidden not once, but twice to kick down!
***
Ed and I were typical brother and sister…while the above was one of my prouder moments of the one time in all of history that I had actually out-smarted him (and of course my favorite story), the truth is that most of my life Ed was my dear companion and teacher. I remember way, way back in the sixties when we played music on little 45 RPM records (remember those?) that Eddy and I were in the playroom listening to Crimson and Clover and dancing up on the couch like we were on American Bandstand. Ed looked over, assessed my dancing style and said, “That is pretty good, Evey, but you need to use your arms more,” and proceeded to throw his arms up in the air in time to music demonstrating how to do it. Impressed by my older brother’s ability, I carefully tried to imitate him. Now, I kid you not, every time I have found myself on a dance floor over the last forty years, including just recently, I will be contentedly dancing when I hear this sweet little voice say, “That is pretty good, Evey, but you need to use your arms more.” To the unsuspecting onlooker, it would appear that I suddenly had an energy surge or heard a louder version of the song that is playing because suddenly my arms will shoot up into the air in a much more pronounced way. That is when I am suddenly dancing with my brother.
***
And then there were the animals….Eddy was truly Mother Nature’s Son. He had every animal imaginable when we were growing up. Not because he wanted to trap them and cage them but quite simply because he loved them….and they seemed to love him too because they kept coming into his life by the droves, or flocks, or coveys… He would find animals that were hurt and nurse them back to health, he would find eggs and incubate and hatch them, he would buy them at the pet shop, he would find them in the oddest places trap them and bring them home.
He had Rocky and Beastie the raccoons—one of which Eddy saved all of his money up to buy and the other which he managed to trap with a Have-A-Heart Trap in a not to be named State Park, which dad let him take home only because it bit Eddy. He wanted to be sure to have the raccoon so he could watch for signs of rabies. Of course, I was his accomplice running around the area setting the traps and looking for signs of raccoons. He taught me how to identify their tracks and told me all about the habitats that they liked the most. Of course, there was the time when Rocky, our beloved pet coon, turned wild, escaped, broke into the house and attacked my dad’s foot causing him to get stitches and Rocky and Beastie both to be deported back into wild, but that was another story.
Ed had other animals, too: pet tarantulas, snakes, iguana, chameleons, camine (baby crocodiles), frogs, turtles, tortoise, ducks, chickens, fish, pheasants, quail, crows, owls, homing pigeons, a dog, cats, rats, mice, hampsters and roosters (MEAN roosters as I recall!). Our elementary school used to take field trips to our house because it was like going to a little zoo. The cool thing though was that Eddy knew how to take care of all these creatures. He knew how to care for them and how to feed them. As the little sister, it was often my job to assist him on food gathering missions. These were some of my favorite times with Eddy. Off we would go through the neighborhood looking for earthworms in the great big puddle that would form along the curb on the corner of Valley View and Grandview. We would pick Hibiscus for our iguana from the neighbor’s yard. They had big beautiful flowers that the iguanas loved to eat in exaggerated gulps.
Ed was equally loving and care-full when one of his beloved pets died. We had what had to be one of the most extensive pet cemeteries in all of Fullerton.
Does anyone remember the time that Eddy brought his tarantula to high school in a basket with a lid, waiting for unsuspecting girls to ask him what was in his basket? When they would ask what was inside, he would say, “Nothing.” Not believing he would carry a basket around all day with nothing in it they would grab at it, get it away from him (with only faked resistance from Ed) only to find when they opened the lid a huge hairy spider inside. Screams would follow, the basket would be dropped, the tarantula would be loose at school, and Eddy would scoop it up, return it to its basket and wait for the next unsuspecting girl who would ask him what was in it.
***
My other favorite of memories was going out stomping in wild weather. Eddy was an outdoor kind of guy from the very, very beginning. He loved a good storm so when it started raining, that was no reason to stay indoors! Off we would go to stomp and splash in puddles, or stand at the top of Grandview and hold on to our umbrellas in just the right position so that the wind would catch it just right. Eddy would instruct me on the perfect time, along with the perfect gust of wind, to let go and we would laugh joyfully as our umbrellas flew all by themselves all the way down the street. Off we would go in the wind and the rain running after them, only to haul them back up to the top of the hill to do it all again. It wasn’t exactly good for the umbrella, but it certainly was good for us!
***
Another favorite childhood memory was when all four of the Eschner kids, and undoubtedly a few of the neighbors too, would play “River.” As I recall, we would turn on a hose at the top of our property and build rivers that crisscrossed, intersected, raced and eventually merged in the bathtub sized lake we made at the bottom of the property. Hours and hours of play (and untold volumes of water) filled many a day as we floated army men, boats, leaves or whatever we could find down the rivers we had made.
Oh and the wheel barrow rides! Dad would haul Eddy and me all over the back yard. This was the best!***
While Eddy could certainly be a prankster, and often a little sister’s worst nightmare, he was also my best friend when we were growing up. I even remember sharing dreams with him. Our bedrooms were right next to each other’s and we would go to bed, I would dream of flying with Eddy. We were usually on the field at Golden Hill School and we would run and then, suddenly we could take off and fly all over the place together! In the morning I would tell him that I had a flying dream with him and he would always assure me that he knew, that he had been there too. I am not sure at what age I finally decided that our flights had to be dreams, but prior to that age of grown-up practicality, I KNEW Eddy and I could really fly.
•••
Always, always, always, Eddy’s life was about nature, the wild, being outdoors, protecting the earth, teaching others about its wonderful and varied creatures, loving deeply and passionately—and being a bit of trickster too. He was like Wiley Coyote meets Willy Wonka (the Gene Wilder version) meets Dumbledore, meets Native American Shaman. Okay, okay, meets Mo, Curly and whatever the third stooge was named, meets Doctor Doolittle and The Little Rascals.
He was magical, he was my brother and I was blessed.
Eddy....
I unfortunately did not know Eddy very well but I did enjoy the little time I had with him. I was a participant on a couple of the UNLV Continuing Education trips that he was in charge of for the weekend trips. I have been on several of these trips over the years; have had so much fun and learned so much about our earth from Eddy, Chris, Kent, etc.. Eddy was such a wonderful teacher, leader, and friend. He really enjoyed what he did and had such a love of life and this planet. I share that love of the earth with him and part of the love came from the experiences I had on these trips.
I am sorry for you and your family's lose of such a remarkably talented, energetic, fun loving young man. I knew that he has suffered so much in the last few years and he fought the battle; it was just time for him to go in peace. It will be a long time for you and yours to cope with this lose. I know he left two young girls and that their lives will be so influenced by his legacy. May he rest in peace.
My Sincerest Sympathy,
A friend,
Barbara Bergstrom
Memories of Eddy
In one of those funny coincidences that happen so often during life, Wendy and I met Eddy at exactly the same point in time… at my wedding to Eddy’s good friend Joe Valdez. To the
Joe and Eddy had had a number of adventures together in their college days but I think that the times they spent camping and adventuring outdoors were the memories that formed a lasting bond between them. Somehow, two young men with completely different backgrounds came together in a shared appreciation of the wonders of Mother Nature. Joe is a hunter. Eddy was a naturalist. Together they shared a deep curiosity about the workings of the natural world and I think that each brought an understanding and perspective on nature to the other. Certainly, they did not always agree on the way that humans should interact with this natural world. It was more of a philosophical “meeting in the middle.”
Joe always liked to tell me that Eddy had once saved his life. This story took place high in the Sierras when Joe and Eddy were backpacking. It must have been springtime because there was still some snow on the ground and the rivers were running full and fast. Eddy had already crossed one particular river and Joe had started across the slick log “bridge” after him when he lost his footing and went into the water. Unfortunately, Joe was at risk of drowning as the heavy pack strapped to his back threatened to pull him underwater. Acting quickly, and at risk to himself, Eddy was able to cut the backpack straps so that Joe could gain a foothold and clamber out of the freezing water. They had survived an Outward Bound class together in
My first camping experience with Eddy came shortly after I married Joe. Wendy and Ed were just falling in love. All together, but driving two pick up trucks, we set out for
We had a funny little incident occur on this road trip when Eddy’s truck had a temper tantrum and stopped running. Wendy and I sat in Joe’s truck (perhaps munching on a Wonder White turkey sandwich) while the guys went to work on the impaired truck engine. A few minutes later, their heads emerged from under the hood, and they started waving their arms and hopping up and down, whooping in a Native American style dance of victory and thankfulness. The truck was running again. Wendy and I just looked at each other and laughed…”goofy guys”…yep, these were the men for us!
The
Over the next few years, we camped together several times. Our daughters grew up together and Eddy always made it a point to make sure that all the girls had books about rocks and snakes and other desert creatures. Every outing was a geology or weather lesson. While other adults might be busy “being busy” about the camp, Eddy could be found sharing the wonders of a bug’s life with the children or what the various cloud formations might portend. This man who took such an interest in kids, rocks, birds, plants, bees and clouds, always amused my daughters. And, they were especially amazed at what a great beard he could grow! It was like having John Muir as one’s very own uncle.
The longer I knew Eddy, the more he reminded me of my Grandpa Carpenter; never rushed and always kind-hearted and soft-spoken. He even dressed a bit like grandpa…rumpled pants, a favorite shirt that was fraying apart or missing buttons, and a funny assortment of hats. And then, there was Eddy’s penchant for collecting things and saving all sorts of items that might come in handy one day. After grandpa passed away, our family all felt that Eddy continued to “channel” him in the mortal world! I also liked to imagine that Eddy was the kind of man my Uncle Tommy might have matured into had he not died so young in the Peace Corps. Grandma and Grandpa had had similar feelings about Eddy, and being desert rats themselves, formed a special bond with Wendy’s husband.
As time passed and Eddy’s tumor began to affect his energy and health, we all began to notice what Eddy had seen long ago. Wendy had become his White Buffalo Woman. For five years, we have all observed her amazing strength fueled by her love for Eddy to care for him and keep their family together at home through all sorts of adversity. When he could no longer drive the camper to take his family out into the wilderness she took over. She made sure that his dream to camp around the
What a journey it has been: Sad and funny, awful and wonderful, mundane and awesome. These are just a few of my many Eddy stories, the rest to be taken out and shared over and over again in the coming years when we see or think of something that reminds us of him. And always, I will hear Eddy’s very distinctive laugh in my memory…he loved his family and he loved a good story.
Debby Kiser Valdez
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