Tim's Words

I would like to thank Rita, David and Shari for allowing Eric and me to share some of our memories of Bruce with you today. Because we are here to celebrate his life, not to mourn his passing, I’d like to share with you some stories from when we were young. I’ll apologize in advance if I say anything inappropriate but it’s not possible to tell stories about Bruce without being a little bit inappropriate.

Bruce and I met during the summer of ’76 when we were both 120 pound thirteen year olds on a little league team. It wasn’t enough for Bruce to be a starter on the team, he was the opening day pitcher and batted cleanup. This may surprise some of you, but he also acted like he was in charge of the team. He would call a time out during a game and gather all the players at the mound. He didn’t have anything to share with the rest of the team, he just liked looking into the dugout and seeing the coach’s face get red. He was our best pitcher for most of that first season until parents from the other teams passed a petition around disallowing him from pitching again for intentionally beaning batters. Bruce would admit nothing.

A few years later we started a band in Bruce’s basement. We were absolutely convinced we would be rock stars some day – it was just a matter of time. We hadn’t been practicing more than a few months when Bruce got us a paying show at a recreation center for soldiers on Fort Lewis. For reasons I can’t remember now, we could only play songs by Aerosmith and Dan Fogelberg at that time so it made for a very strange set list. We took the stage for our first performance and found six soldiers in the audience that did not appear to be interested in either Aerosmith or Dan Fogelberg. When we finished our first song, there was dead silence but Bruce said “Thank You” just like we had rehearsed. We managed to get through that show and did many more – we got better and our audiences got better too.

Whenever Bruce would book a show, we would work out how much money we would make and then spend all of it in advance renting lights, hiring crew – whatever we could think of to make a great show. One time Bruce asked me to stop at a fish market and pick up some dry ice on the way to pick him up in my van. He had built a fog machine from a garbage can, some dryer hose and a heating element. To be honest, if we had put more energy into our musical skills and less into special effects, we might have been more successful. I recently found a cassette tape of the last show we did together. I wish it had been a video tape though because I’m sure we looked better than we sounded.

Bruce and I drifted apart during his years in Jakarta and at college but whenever we would see each other we could always pick up right where we left off. Sometime in our late twenties – before Mario – Bruce picked me up at the airport when I came for a visit. The back seat of his Mitsubishi Eclipse contained a large ugly painting. He told me that we needed to make a little detour on the way to his house. He had stolen/borrowed the painting from Trader Vic’s on a dare and needed to return it. As was common with most of my experiences with Bruce, I expressed concern that we would both get in some kind of trouble. Of course, he called me a name and told me not to worry.

We arrived at the restaurant with the painting in hand and Bruce demanded to see the Manager. He politely explained that he was quite embarrassed that some friends of his had become intoxicated and had stolen this painting. He was trying to make up for his friend’s irresponsible behavior by personally returning it at his first opportunity. Of course, the Manager insisted that we stay for a while and comp’d us with crab stuffed wontons and gin and tonics.

As I have thought back over all of my memories of Bruce these past few weeks, I was struck by how little he had really changed over the past thirty years. Of course, he did gain a few pounds and add a few dollars to his bank account, but he had the same presence, charisma and absolute self confidence when I met him at thirteen that he had in his adult life. With the possible exception of athletic pursuits, I think Bruce thought he could accomplish anything.

I truly wish that I could have found a way to convince Bruce to take better care of himself these past few years – that it was better to walk to a restaurant than take that damned Segway. I will regret forever not being able to find the words to get him to come home.

When I think back on my times with Bruce and I read the stories of other friends on the wonderful memorial website Eric created, it is clear to me that Bruce packed several life times of experiences in his forty four years. All of us were truly fortunate to have had him in our lives.

- Tim Madeley

	Bruce Waldack Memorial Service Words from Tim Madeley I would like to thank Rita, David and Shari for allowing Eric and me to share some of our memories of Bruce with you today. Because we are here to celebrate his life, not to mourn his passing, I’d like to share with you some stories from when we were young. I’ll apologize in advance if I say anything inappropriate but it’s not possible to tell stories about Bruce without being a little bit inappropriate. Bruce and I met during the summer of ’76 when we were both 120 pound thirteen year olds on a little league team. It wasn’t enough for Bruce to be a starter on the team, he was the opening day pitcher and batted cleanup. This may surprise some of you, but he also acted like he was in charge of the team. He would call a time out during a game and gather all the players at the mound. He didn’t have anything to share with the rest of the team, he just liked looking into the dugout and seeing the coach’s face get red. He was our best pitcher for most of that first season until parents from the other teams passed a petition around disallowing him from pitching again for intentionally beaning batters. Bruce would admit nothing. A few years later we started a band in Bruce’s basement. We were absolutely convinced we would be rock stars some day – it was just a matter of time. We hadn’t been practicing more than a few months when Bruce got us a paying show at a recreation center for soldiers on Fort Lewis. For reasons I can’t remember now, we could only play songs by Aerosmith and Dan Fogelberg at that time so it made for a very strange set list. We took the stage for our first performance and found six soldiers in the audience that did not appear to be interested in either Aerosmith or Dan Fogelberg. When we finished our first song, there was dead silence but Bruce said “Thank You” just like we had rehearsed. We managed to get through that show and did many more – we got better and our audiences got better too. Whenever Bruce would book a show, we would work out how much money we would make and then spend all of it in advance renting lights, hiring crew – whatever we could think of to make a great show. One time Bruce asked me to stop at a fish market and pick up some dry ice on the way to pick him up in my van. He had built a fog machine from a garbage can, some dryer hose and a heating element. To be honest, if we had put more energy into our musical skills and less into special effects, we might have been more successful. I recently found a cassette tape of the last show we did together. I wish it had been a video tape though because I’m sure we looked better than we sounded. Bruce and I drifted apart during his years in Jakarta and at college but whenever we would see each other we could always pick up right where we left off. Sometime in our late twenties – before Mario – Bruce picked me up at the airport when I came for a visit. The back seat of his Mitsubishi Eclipse contained a large ugly painting. He told me that we needed to make a little detour on the way to his house. He had stolen/borrowed the painting from Trader Vic’s on a dare and needed to return it. As was common with most of my experiences with Bruce, I expressed concern that we would both get in some kind of trouble. Of course, he called me a name and told me not to worry. We arrived at the restaurant with the painting in hand and Bruce demanded to see the Manager. He politely explained that he was quite embarrassed that some friends of his had become intoxicated and had stolen this painting. He was trying to make up for his friend’s irresponsible behavior by personally returning it at his first opportunity. Of course, the Manager insisted that we stay for a while and comp’d us with crab stuffed wontons and gin and tonics. As I have thought back over all of my memories of Bruce these past few weeks, I was struck by how little he had really changed over the past thirty years. Of course, he did gain a few pounds and add a few dollars to his bank account, but he had the same presence, charisma and absolute self confidence when I met him at thirteen that he had in his adult life. With the possible exception of athletic pursuits, I think Bruce thought he could accomplish anything. I truly wish that I could have found a way to convince Bruce to take better care of himself these past few years – that it was better to walk to a restaurant than take that damned Segway. I will regret forever not being able to find the words to get him to come home. When I think back on my times with Bruce and I read the stories of other friends on the wonderful memorial website Eric created, it is clear to me that Bruce packed several life times of experiences in his forty four years. All of us were truly fortunate to have had him in our lives. - Tim Madeley
Updated 12.14.2007	Close Window