Below is a collection of material to remind us about the amazing and wonderful life of Wallace Briggs Westfeldt
We thank our local and extended community, friends and family for your beautiful support to us. We are deeply humbled and gratified by your kindness.
For those of you who were not there, we had two gatherings to remember and celebrate Wallace. One of them was on the snow at Snowmass with an open microphone, and the second was at Buttermilk where specific speakers were chosen. To all the young people, both contemporaries and young athletes that Wallace had coached, your eloquence and spirit are like his: full of love, vitality, and vibrance. You inspire us and we're grateful.
Remember that Wallace's spirit is found more in the memories and meanings of his life rather than those of his death. Please help us(and yourselves) with that understanding.
If you wish to contribute your thoughts on Wallace, email them to wwweems@gmail.com and we will post them when appropriate. Of, if you wish, you may add your thoughts in a comment on any of the posts below.
Thank you
The Westfeldts
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Will, Alex and Oliver: young riders from the club (AVSC)
From Will Adams
I heard a quote once. It went like this: “What lies behind us, and what lies ahead of us, is nothing compared to what lies within us.” I believe Wallace is what lies within us. What lies behind us is this awful event that has happened to this wonderful person. Wallace was a friend as well as a fellow snowboarder and my role model. I know that he wouldn’t want what lies behind us to negatively affect what lies ahead of us. I never really got to know him until this summer when he went to Windells with me. Before that though, I always saw him on the mountain and even though I didn’t really know him well, he would always put a smile on my face to match his. I am glad I got the honor to know Wallace. Now I believe this quote should go a different way. I think it should go like this: “What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us is nothing compared to what Wallace has put in our hearts.
From Alex Goldsmith
I have so many great and amazing memories of Wallace but this one really stands out in my mind as incredible. It is from about 5 years ago when I first started with the AVSC snowboard program. I did not know Wallace yet but I guess you could say I already looked up to him. I had heard so many stories about him being an amazing snowboarder and more importantly, a person that I was dying to meet. The day I finally met him was the day of a preseason trip to Copper Mt. I have always been a shy kid so I was a bit nervous because everyone I was traveling with was much older than me. Somehow I was lucky enough to end up sitting next to Wallace for the drive. He talked to me and asked me about myself. I’m sure it wasn’t very enjoyable for him because I probably wasn’t very talkative but he sure didn’t let me know that. I remember that night going to bed with a sense of relief knowing that I had finally met him. Him being the most amazing person I have ever met and my only true hero. That whole trip I learned more from just riding with Wallace and talking to him than I had the whole season before that. There was no way that doing anything with Wallace could end up dire because he had the most amazing outlook on life. Any day was incredible with Wallace. Thank you Wallace for all the amazing things you have taught me about life and snowboarding.
From Oliver Bacharach
Weems and Nancy...I wanted to let you know you had the best son anyone could ask for, a great snowboarder, nice, and one of my biggest role-models and still is. All of my prayers are to you and your family. I cannot even imagine what you are going through. Wallace was a great kid I just wish I could have spent more time with him. I still think about him and the times we had together every day, every minute. I, and everyone else, loved him so much, and he will always be with us. You did a great job on raising such an amazing kid. Wallace will stay an inspiration to me for years to come.
I heard a quote once. It went like this: “What lies behind us, and what lies ahead of us, is nothing compared to what lies within us.” I believe Wallace is what lies within us. What lies behind us is this awful event that has happened to this wonderful person. Wallace was a friend as well as a fellow snowboarder and my role model. I know that he wouldn’t want what lies behind us to negatively affect what lies ahead of us. I never really got to know him until this summer when he went to Windells with me. Before that though, I always saw him on the mountain and even though I didn’t really know him well, he would always put a smile on my face to match his. I am glad I got the honor to know Wallace. Now I believe this quote should go a different way. I think it should go like this: “What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us is nothing compared to what Wallace has put in our hearts.
From Alex Goldsmith
I have so many great and amazing memories of Wallace but this one really stands out in my mind as incredible. It is from about 5 years ago when I first started with the AVSC snowboard program. I did not know Wallace yet but I guess you could say I already looked up to him. I had heard so many stories about him being an amazing snowboarder and more importantly, a person that I was dying to meet. The day I finally met him was the day of a preseason trip to Copper Mt. I have always been a shy kid so I was a bit nervous because everyone I was traveling with was much older than me. Somehow I was lucky enough to end up sitting next to Wallace for the drive. He talked to me and asked me about myself. I’m sure it wasn’t very enjoyable for him because I probably wasn’t very talkative but he sure didn’t let me know that. I remember that night going to bed with a sense of relief knowing that I had finally met him. Him being the most amazing person I have ever met and my only true hero. That whole trip I learned more from just riding with Wallace and talking to him than I had the whole season before that. There was no way that doing anything with Wallace could end up dire because he had the most amazing outlook on life. Any day was incredible with Wallace. Thank you Wallace for all the amazing things you have taught me about life and snowboarding.
From Oliver Bacharach
Weems and Nancy...I wanted to let you know you had the best son anyone could ask for, a great snowboarder, nice, and one of my biggest role-models and still is. All of my prayers are to you and your family. I cannot even imagine what you are going through. Wallace was a great kid I just wish I could have spent more time with him. I still think about him and the times we had together every day, every minute. I, and everyone else, loved him so much, and he will always be with us. You did a great job on raising such an amazing kid. Wallace will stay an inspiration to me for years to come.
Ben Westfeldt
Wallace,
My Brother, my friend,
I miss you so much, words will never be enough. I have kept praying and dreaming that this is not real and that you will come back to me. Your love for life, snowboarding, and people is so contagious. You touched so many people and they are all here to see you. Most of all, you have touched me.
You and Patrick were the best brothers I could ever dream of. You were always there for me, even when I would piss you off! I will always remember you getting up before me and waking me up to go ride. As I resisted you would tell me, “It’s sunny and sick!” or that “It’s dumping out!”
I have been waking up waiting for that moment and yet it has not happened. However, I can’t help but think that you have already awakened and are endlessly riding in sunny and sick powder days and that each morning you are calling down to me to get up and ride, to enjoy life, and to spread the happiness as you did.
Wallace, you will always be a part of my heart, soul, and body.
I AM WALLACE BRIGGS WESTFELDT.
I will always love you,
Your brother,
Ben
My Brother, my friend,
I miss you so much, words will never be enough. I have kept praying and dreaming that this is not real and that you will come back to me. Your love for life, snowboarding, and people is so contagious. You touched so many people and they are all here to see you. Most of all, you have touched me.
You and Patrick were the best brothers I could ever dream of. You were always there for me, even when I would piss you off! I will always remember you getting up before me and waking me up to go ride. As I resisted you would tell me, “It’s sunny and sick!” or that “It’s dumping out!”
I have been waking up waiting for that moment and yet it has not happened. However, I can’t help but think that you have already awakened and are endlessly riding in sunny and sick powder days and that each morning you are calling down to me to get up and ride, to enjoy life, and to spread the happiness as you did.
Wallace, you will always be a part of my heart, soul, and body.
I AM WALLACE BRIGGS WESTFELDT.
I will always love you,
Your brother,
Ben
Packy Westfeldt
Wallace died on a day more perfect than any, and on a day where he was riding at his best. As I watched him die I died too. Only, I was lucky enough to live again with him inside of me.
Wallace snowboarded because it made him happy and because it made other people’s lives like mine better. It connected him to the world around him and to the best people in the world, his friends. It was a pursuit to find meaning, and a pursuit to impact the world. Believe me, he FOUND meaning. And he has impacted my world so immensely that I have become him, just a much less perfect version. This is the greatest honor I could have ever hoped for. I am proud to be Wallace’s brother. I AM WALLACE BRIGGS WESTFELDT.
Wallace snowboarded because it made him happy and because it made other people’s lives like mine better. It connected him to the world around him and to the best people in the world, his friends. It was a pursuit to find meaning, and a pursuit to impact the world. Believe me, he FOUND meaning. And he has impacted my world so immensely that I have become him, just a much less perfect version. This is the greatest honor I could have ever hoped for. I am proud to be Wallace’s brother. I AM WALLACE BRIGGS WESTFELDT.
Nancy Bogle Westfeldt
I come before you as a mother whose world has been torn apart and whose life will never be the same. And moving forward will be my greatest challenge.
My three sons are the greatest and most powerful gift I have ever received and I can’t tell you how my whole being fills up with this light when I look at them or even think about them. There are no words to adequately describe how much I love them. One of them has been physically torn from us and again, there are no words to really describe the depth of the searing, heart-wrenching pain that blinds sides me. But, in no way will this diminish the love that will continue to grow for Wallace as it will grow for Ben and Packy as they face each new day.
I do not understand what it feels like to be a triplet, but I do know from observation that there is an incredible bond, a life among them that is an entity all unto itself. While they are three totally different people, so much of who they are is also because of each other. And, as Ben and Packy continue on with their lives, Wallace will be there with them because part of them is Wallace. What a gift for us, for me.
I think that, as a parent, one of the first things you try to learn is to let go. First, it is the easy stuff like allowing them to run down the beach, jump off a pile of snow, or stand on a skate board. It becomes a cooperative, learning process. You cannot hover and protect them from getting a scraped knee or a bruised head. You want them to learn and move with confidence.
You have to learn to let go when they first go off to school and thank God I was leaving them, at first, to Tana Rinaldi, Betsy Schroeder, Joyce Stonehocker and especially Val Braun, who had Wallace in class for three years. Then it was Peter Westcott, Helene Ferguson, and Judy Detweiler for 5th and 6th grade. And it goes on, and oh, Ms McKinney, wherever you are, please know that, after all those years of teaching math to Wallace, he declared math and computer science as his major. He was very proud.
Weems and I tried to expose Wallace to as many activities as possible in the hopes he would discover a passion. Playing a musical instrument did not work for him. In fact, one of the few times he was sent to the principal’s office was when he got caught sending spit balls across the room through his trombone mouthpiece. He played soccer, basketball, hockey, and football. However, it turned out that nothing could compare to his developing love for snowboarding and this he did all on his own because the rest of us were all skiers. This was his decision as a 6-year-old to grab an adult snowboard and ride it with his ski boots on. There were no kids’ boards or boots back in those days.
Eventually he would meet up with a young snowboard instructor at Snowmass named Miah Wheeler, who helped him develop his love of snowboarding into a real passion. Miah has continued to coach him, be his friend, mentor, and supporter for at least 12 years. And, meanwhile, Travis MacLain entered the picture. He really exemplified a love of life and for snowboarding for Wallace. And AVSC became another home for Wallace—filled with wonderful friends and opportunities.
Snowboarding became Wallace’s life in the mountains. He competed in numerous events, always trying to reach the next level and was only hampered by injuries. But he kept coming back. He had unfinished business. He eventually decided to focus on slopestyle because he loved to soar. He evolved to free riding as well, competing on terrain that he and his brothers were always examining, where they searched for different lines most of us would never consider or imagine. The ultimate compliment for him was riding for this film the Aspen Skiing Company was sponsoring. To be able to ride in the back country where the lighting, snow, and views were exquisite was the best. The day of the accident was one of the most spectacular days of the season, and Packy said that Wallace was making the best turns of his life, and then he soared through the air. That is what we will remember.
I was so lucky to have the opportunity to be with Wallace in school as a volunteer, to participate in “ex-education”, to watch him learn, grow, and interact with his friends. I got to know his friends who I also learned to love. I was lucky to get to watch Wallace compete in numerous events, watching his skill level and confidence expand. I never wanted to pass up an opportunity to watch any of my sons participate in what they loved, and I never wanted them to ever leave the house without a hug and a kiss and best wishes for a wonderful day!
Wallace did have another life away from the mountains, and it was in another place where he could again interact with the environment. Let me read you a poem he wrote in Val Braun’s 4th grade class:
ALL SEASONS BE SWEET
All seasons should be sweet, I think.
They are, but you don’t have to agree.
But if you don’t, here’s something you should know.
January through May is all great for skiing and snowboarding.
May through September is all great for vacation at the beach.
What a view of life, right?! Every summer the five of us would pack up and head east to work in the family business: Briggs Beach (hence, Wallace’s middle name) in Little Compton, RI where again, Wallace lived life to the fullest—where he snorkeled, scuba dived, went spear fishing, rode boogie boards, went surfing, and finally, developed a second passion: Golf (where the competition began again among the brothers!) There in Rhode Island, he was able to spend time with my side of the family: his grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. I will be forever grateful to them for all their love, support, and influence in his life. Wallace really did have an extended family because there are also all the Colorado Westfeldts who have added tremendously to his life.
You do not raise children alone. You have family, teachers, coaches, friends, parents, the ski school family, and your children’s friends. These young friends have been truly magnificent. I absolutely cherish having you all congregate at the house.
And you always hope that your children meet their loves. Thank you, Amelia, for allowing Wallace to experience love and for loving him back.
This is an overwhelming gathering today, and as I look out toward you all I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the love, support, and understanding that you gave Wallace and are passing on to his family.
And thank you most of all, Wallace, for all your spirit, love, patience, and everything that you taught me. And where I cannot touch you physically, I will never let go of your spirit. I love you.
My three sons are the greatest and most powerful gift I have ever received and I can’t tell you how my whole being fills up with this light when I look at them or even think about them. There are no words to adequately describe how much I love them. One of them has been physically torn from us and again, there are no words to really describe the depth of the searing, heart-wrenching pain that blinds sides me. But, in no way will this diminish the love that will continue to grow for Wallace as it will grow for Ben and Packy as they face each new day.
I do not understand what it feels like to be a triplet, but I do know from observation that there is an incredible bond, a life among them that is an entity all unto itself. While they are three totally different people, so much of who they are is also because of each other. And, as Ben and Packy continue on with their lives, Wallace will be there with them because part of them is Wallace. What a gift for us, for me.
I think that, as a parent, one of the first things you try to learn is to let go. First, it is the easy stuff like allowing them to run down the beach, jump off a pile of snow, or stand on a skate board. It becomes a cooperative, learning process. You cannot hover and protect them from getting a scraped knee or a bruised head. You want them to learn and move with confidence.
You have to learn to let go when they first go off to school and thank God I was leaving them, at first, to Tana Rinaldi, Betsy Schroeder, Joyce Stonehocker and especially Val Braun, who had Wallace in class for three years. Then it was Peter Westcott, Helene Ferguson, and Judy Detweiler for 5th and 6th grade. And it goes on, and oh, Ms McKinney, wherever you are, please know that, after all those years of teaching math to Wallace, he declared math and computer science as his major. He was very proud.
Weems and I tried to expose Wallace to as many activities as possible in the hopes he would discover a passion. Playing a musical instrument did not work for him. In fact, one of the few times he was sent to the principal’s office was when he got caught sending spit balls across the room through his trombone mouthpiece. He played soccer, basketball, hockey, and football. However, it turned out that nothing could compare to his developing love for snowboarding and this he did all on his own because the rest of us were all skiers. This was his decision as a 6-year-old to grab an adult snowboard and ride it with his ski boots on. There were no kids’ boards or boots back in those days.
Eventually he would meet up with a young snowboard instructor at Snowmass named Miah Wheeler, who helped him develop his love of snowboarding into a real passion. Miah has continued to coach him, be his friend, mentor, and supporter for at least 12 years. And, meanwhile, Travis MacLain entered the picture. He really exemplified a love of life and for snowboarding for Wallace. And AVSC became another home for Wallace—filled with wonderful friends and opportunities.
Snowboarding became Wallace’s life in the mountains. He competed in numerous events, always trying to reach the next level and was only hampered by injuries. But he kept coming back. He had unfinished business. He eventually decided to focus on slopestyle because he loved to soar. He evolved to free riding as well, competing on terrain that he and his brothers were always examining, where they searched for different lines most of us would never consider or imagine. The ultimate compliment for him was riding for this film the Aspen Skiing Company was sponsoring. To be able to ride in the back country where the lighting, snow, and views were exquisite was the best. The day of the accident was one of the most spectacular days of the season, and Packy said that Wallace was making the best turns of his life, and then he soared through the air. That is what we will remember.
I was so lucky to have the opportunity to be with Wallace in school as a volunteer, to participate in “ex-education”, to watch him learn, grow, and interact with his friends. I got to know his friends who I also learned to love. I was lucky to get to watch Wallace compete in numerous events, watching his skill level and confidence expand. I never wanted to pass up an opportunity to watch any of my sons participate in what they loved, and I never wanted them to ever leave the house without a hug and a kiss and best wishes for a wonderful day!
Wallace did have another life away from the mountains, and it was in another place where he could again interact with the environment. Let me read you a poem he wrote in Val Braun’s 4th grade class:
ALL SEASONS BE SWEET
All seasons should be sweet, I think.
They are, but you don’t have to agree.
But if you don’t, here’s something you should know.
January through May is all great for skiing and snowboarding.
May through September is all great for vacation at the beach.
What a view of life, right?! Every summer the five of us would pack up and head east to work in the family business: Briggs Beach (hence, Wallace’s middle name) in Little Compton, RI where again, Wallace lived life to the fullest—where he snorkeled, scuba dived, went spear fishing, rode boogie boards, went surfing, and finally, developed a second passion: Golf (where the competition began again among the brothers!) There in Rhode Island, he was able to spend time with my side of the family: his grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. I will be forever grateful to them for all their love, support, and influence in his life. Wallace really did have an extended family because there are also all the Colorado Westfeldts who have added tremendously to his life.
You do not raise children alone. You have family, teachers, coaches, friends, parents, the ski school family, and your children’s friends. These young friends have been truly magnificent. I absolutely cherish having you all congregate at the house.
And you always hope that your children meet their loves. Thank you, Amelia, for allowing Wallace to experience love and for loving him back.
This is an overwhelming gathering today, and as I look out toward you all I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the love, support, and understanding that you gave Wallace and are passing on to his family.
And thank you most of all, Wallace, for all your spirit, love, patience, and everything that you taught me. And where I cannot touch you physically, I will never let go of your spirit. I love you.
Weems Westfeldt
I want to thank all of you for the love you showed Wallace throughout his short life. You all contributed, directly and indirectly, so much to him and to our whole family, that we are completely humbled and deeply grateful.
And now we have to grieve and mourn and celebrate together before we move on.
I see an underlying theme in our grieving—sometimes spoken, but often silent—that I summarize with the word “WHY?” This is accompanied by another thought that this CANNOT BE TRUE.
When my dear friend, Mike Kaplan, came to our house to inform me of Wallace’s death, I really didn’t even understand the words he was saying. They seemed to crawl into my ears (bad enough ears anyway!) in disjointed syllables that had no possibility of making sense.
My mind wouldn’t take this in. It just refused. Often it still does. And then the reality slaps me (and us) in the face with waves of grief.
So I’ve stopped worrying too much about “Why?” And, whether there is an organizing principle in the universe or not--whether things happen for a reason or not--I’m pretty much at ease with incomprehensibility, chaos, and the apparent randomness of phenomena. Rather than try to pin down the reason, I am learning just to accept it.
My nephew and former ski racer, Matt Luhn, reminded me yesterday that the mountains give us all that we do and love out here, and yet, sometimes, they just claim one of us. It's the natural course of mountain living and it has been so for centuries. We don't like that. But we understand it, and it teaches us, like the ocean does, with such stunning directness about our vulnerability as we dance with the universe. There is nothing I can do about this, except to keep on dancing the dance—to keep on making turns.
However, I can heal from life’s blows.
For me, the beginning of healing occurred when the awful truth of Wallace’s accident became real within me. This didn’t happen suddenly, nor will the healing.
But, I need to testify here that IT IS REAL, AND THAT IT IS HARD, AND THAT WE WILL HEAL.
This doesn’t mean that sadness will disappear. Nor does it mean that there will be no scars. And it clearly doesn’t mean that we will walk away from Wallace and his great gift to our lives.
I think it means that we will be able to move forward…to place him gently and properly in our individual and collective heart… and to live lives that honor him. With time, I won’t need to think of this every day. It will just be a feeling I will have—connected to a smile at the thought of him.
The “thought of him”—the concept of Wallace—is my grounding place for all of this. It’s based on another odd question that keeps coming up: “Who was this child, this perfect young being, who has graced our lives?”
So I will take a moment to express my own answer to that and tell you what you already know. I know that I can only express a tiny part of the real answer, but I’m arrogant enough, and broken-hearted, enough to try.
1. First, Wallace was perfect from our perspective. He moved through his world with qualities of grace, elegance and style, with kindness and love, with wisdom and humility. And humor! The light and gentleness in his eyes and smile told most of the story. Other parts were told through his perseverance, his amazing coolness, his aspirations, and his sense of the “trickster”. I remember his Grandfather, Poppy Bogle, saying, with this twinkle in his eye, “That Wallace is a rascal!” I think maybe Wallace was about 6 weeks old at the time.
2. Secondly, Wallace was part of one of the greatest miracles of mine and Nancy’s lives—our triplet miracle. Watching him, and his brothers, move through their lives as a team—sometimes working as one, sometimes differentiating perfectly, and even sometimes—but rarely—having their own dysfunctions…..Wow, what a pleasure to witness! What delights we’ve seen! They seemed to be a center of gravity for each other, their friends and relatives, and for us (their parents). And just as often they were a bit embarrassed by the attention it brought them.
But it was wonderful—full of antics and scenarios that gave us laughter, tears, worry, and comfort. And it was weird! I remember when we first became conscious of them. We were getting a sonogram for Nancy when she was 17 weeks pregnant, and the attendant turns on the machine, and says, “Well, there’s the baby. (pause) And there’s another one right over here.” (And I’m thinkin’, “ANOTHER ONE!???”) (Again sometimes these words don’t really get into my brain very clearly!) And then he says, “And there is a third one over on this side.” (And I’m thinkin’ something like, “Dude, I think you got the wrong channel. Or maybe your machine’s busted. Or, use the sonogram, not the copier!”)
And from that point on nothing was the same, and everything was magical. (Not easy, but magical.) And very funny: This wonderful Taoseno lift op in Taos came up to me and with laughter in his eyes, said, “Hey Weems, bro, I heard you was havin’ triplets! Who’s the father of the other two!”
Wallace’s leg of the tripod will not be replaceable. But I already know and see that Packy and Ben, as they internalize their brother, and with their inner strength, can stand on their own. This triplet bond doesn’t end in the death of one.
3. Thirdly, Wallace was a wonderful friend for all of you, and a loving son and brother for us. Amelia, Wallace’s love and companion says it best and most simply. “He was so easy to love.” The children and friends at our service on the snow, all said the same in one way or another.
4. And, finally, Wallace had the magic on his snowboard. In spite of all his injuries, he was a master of his body, his board, gravity, air, and snow. His skills were vast and his technique was flawless. He understood his snowboard, the snow, and the mountain forces, and knew what he could do with all that. His determination and commitment was so inspiring that it sometimes broke our hearts, but also made us happy. I remember him duct taping a skateboard with no trucks to his feet and doing flip after flip on a trampoline. When he first got the chance to ride—at a much earlier age than we were recommending in the ski school—he walked up and slid down endlessly on the beginner hill at Snowmass—discovering the craft and honing the skill—just as any child learns to walk.
However, for me, what really stood out was the way he touched the mountain and the snow—with the same grace and feeling that he touched us all. Watching him make simple turns on groomed slopes was just as moving for me and Nancy as watching him jump or ride rails. The little things he did, the flow of his movements and snowboard—these were just stunningly simple and beautiful. He massaged the snow and danced with gravity in ways that I’ve always wanted to achieve. Many musicians can play their instruments, but few can make them come alive with the music. Wallace was transcendent in the way he worked his body and his board and his spirit. And that was the magic that just enthralled us. And we’re all so lucky to have seen it.
So here’s the deal. I’m going to gently move gratitude to its rightful place alongside the sorrow.
After all…
You can’t choose how long you can live. But you can choose how well you do it.
And, Wallace chose very very well.
And I’m so grateful for that.
You can’t choose how long your loved ones are with you physically. But you can choose how you enshrine them in your own mind, body, and spirit.
And, it will be so easy to keep Wallace in our hearts.
I’m really grateful for that.
You can’t manage the course of your children’s or your friends’ lives. But you can honor them EVERY DAY in the way you, yourself live.
And, it will be fine to lead my life trying to be worthy of the gift of Wallace’s short, beautiful life.
I’m completely grateful for that.
As Tom Crum has taught me so well…”Always give thanks.”
So I invite you all to join me in this gratitude. It feels very good.
And besides, we have no other good choice on this. The experience of having been touched by Wallace demands it!
And now we have to grieve and mourn and celebrate together before we move on.
I see an underlying theme in our grieving—sometimes spoken, but often silent—that I summarize with the word “WHY?” This is accompanied by another thought that this CANNOT BE TRUE.
When my dear friend, Mike Kaplan, came to our house to inform me of Wallace’s death, I really didn’t even understand the words he was saying. They seemed to crawl into my ears (bad enough ears anyway!) in disjointed syllables that had no possibility of making sense.
My mind wouldn’t take this in. It just refused. Often it still does. And then the reality slaps me (and us) in the face with waves of grief.
So I’ve stopped worrying too much about “Why?” And, whether there is an organizing principle in the universe or not--whether things happen for a reason or not--I’m pretty much at ease with incomprehensibility, chaos, and the apparent randomness of phenomena. Rather than try to pin down the reason, I am learning just to accept it.
My nephew and former ski racer, Matt Luhn, reminded me yesterday that the mountains give us all that we do and love out here, and yet, sometimes, they just claim one of us. It's the natural course of mountain living and it has been so for centuries. We don't like that. But we understand it, and it teaches us, like the ocean does, with such stunning directness about our vulnerability as we dance with the universe. There is nothing I can do about this, except to keep on dancing the dance—to keep on making turns.
However, I can heal from life’s blows.
For me, the beginning of healing occurred when the awful truth of Wallace’s accident became real within me. This didn’t happen suddenly, nor will the healing.
But, I need to testify here that IT IS REAL, AND THAT IT IS HARD, AND THAT WE WILL HEAL.
This doesn’t mean that sadness will disappear. Nor does it mean that there will be no scars. And it clearly doesn’t mean that we will walk away from Wallace and his great gift to our lives.
I think it means that we will be able to move forward…to place him gently and properly in our individual and collective heart… and to live lives that honor him. With time, I won’t need to think of this every day. It will just be a feeling I will have—connected to a smile at the thought of him.
The “thought of him”—the concept of Wallace—is my grounding place for all of this. It’s based on another odd question that keeps coming up: “Who was this child, this perfect young being, who has graced our lives?”
So I will take a moment to express my own answer to that and tell you what you already know. I know that I can only express a tiny part of the real answer, but I’m arrogant enough, and broken-hearted, enough to try.
1. First, Wallace was perfect from our perspective. He moved through his world with qualities of grace, elegance and style, with kindness and love, with wisdom and humility. And humor! The light and gentleness in his eyes and smile told most of the story. Other parts were told through his perseverance, his amazing coolness, his aspirations, and his sense of the “trickster”. I remember his Grandfather, Poppy Bogle, saying, with this twinkle in his eye, “That Wallace is a rascal!” I think maybe Wallace was about 6 weeks old at the time.
2. Secondly, Wallace was part of one of the greatest miracles of mine and Nancy’s lives—our triplet miracle. Watching him, and his brothers, move through their lives as a team—sometimes working as one, sometimes differentiating perfectly, and even sometimes—but rarely—having their own dysfunctions…..Wow, what a pleasure to witness! What delights we’ve seen! They seemed to be a center of gravity for each other, their friends and relatives, and for us (their parents). And just as often they were a bit embarrassed by the attention it brought them.
But it was wonderful—full of antics and scenarios that gave us laughter, tears, worry, and comfort. And it was weird! I remember when we first became conscious of them. We were getting a sonogram for Nancy when she was 17 weeks pregnant, and the attendant turns on the machine, and says, “Well, there’s the baby. (pause) And there’s another one right over here.” (And I’m thinkin’, “ANOTHER ONE!???”) (Again sometimes these words don’t really get into my brain very clearly!) And then he says, “And there is a third one over on this side.” (And I’m thinkin’ something like, “Dude, I think you got the wrong channel. Or maybe your machine’s busted. Or, use the sonogram, not the copier!”)
And from that point on nothing was the same, and everything was magical. (Not easy, but magical.) And very funny: This wonderful Taoseno lift op in Taos came up to me and with laughter in his eyes, said, “Hey Weems, bro, I heard you was havin’ triplets! Who’s the father of the other two!”
Wallace’s leg of the tripod will not be replaceable. But I already know and see that Packy and Ben, as they internalize their brother, and with their inner strength, can stand on their own. This triplet bond doesn’t end in the death of one.
3. Thirdly, Wallace was a wonderful friend for all of you, and a loving son and brother for us. Amelia, Wallace’s love and companion says it best and most simply. “He was so easy to love.” The children and friends at our service on the snow, all said the same in one way or another.
4. And, finally, Wallace had the magic on his snowboard. In spite of all his injuries, he was a master of his body, his board, gravity, air, and snow. His skills were vast and his technique was flawless. He understood his snowboard, the snow, and the mountain forces, and knew what he could do with all that. His determination and commitment was so inspiring that it sometimes broke our hearts, but also made us happy. I remember him duct taping a skateboard with no trucks to his feet and doing flip after flip on a trampoline. When he first got the chance to ride—at a much earlier age than we were recommending in the ski school—he walked up and slid down endlessly on the beginner hill at Snowmass—discovering the craft and honing the skill—just as any child learns to walk.
However, for me, what really stood out was the way he touched the mountain and the snow—with the same grace and feeling that he touched us all. Watching him make simple turns on groomed slopes was just as moving for me and Nancy as watching him jump or ride rails. The little things he did, the flow of his movements and snowboard—these were just stunningly simple and beautiful. He massaged the snow and danced with gravity in ways that I’ve always wanted to achieve. Many musicians can play their instruments, but few can make them come alive with the music. Wallace was transcendent in the way he worked his body and his board and his spirit. And that was the magic that just enthralled us. And we’re all so lucky to have seen it.
So here’s the deal. I’m going to gently move gratitude to its rightful place alongside the sorrow.
After all…
You can’t choose how long you can live. But you can choose how well you do it.
And, Wallace chose very very well.
And I’m so grateful for that.
You can’t choose how long your loved ones are with you physically. But you can choose how you enshrine them in your own mind, body, and spirit.
And, it will be so easy to keep Wallace in our hearts.
I’m really grateful for that.
You can’t manage the course of your children’s or your friends’ lives. But you can honor them EVERY DAY in the way you, yourself live.
And, it will be fine to lead my life trying to be worthy of the gift of Wallace’s short, beautiful life.
I’m completely grateful for that.
As Tom Crum has taught me so well…”Always give thanks.”
So I invite you all to join me in this gratitude. It feels very good.
And besides, we have no other good choice on this. The experience of having been touched by Wallace demands it!
Susan Bogle Finnegan
For Wallace
dear, loving son, brother, grandson, nephew, cousin, soulmate, and friend
Snow falls gently on this earth,
Quiets us.
Sunlight rises to the fullness of day,
Quickens our hearts.
We are brought to our knees with loss
And are full with gratitude for your life, Wallace.
This need… we need
The kindness of your open heart,
Your patient strength
And your way on this earth,
The way you sought the mountains, ocean, and air,
Interested and searching with keen mind
and attention for the magic.
How perfectly natural,
You against the cobalt sky, body
Spinning, Backside 360
Or you,
Balanced on the precise moment of the wave’s curl
Surfing toward shore.
Or you, against the cushioned couch at home,
Fingers flying over the a laptop intent
On building a design with Dreamweaver.
This is an Instant Message dear Wallace –
We know you loved,
Because you listened, teased, laughed and learned.
You embraced your mother and father, brothers, family
And your abundance of friends.
You would want us enjoy this world,
hold on to what is just, good, and beautiful.
We will hold on to you dear Wallace,
Learn from your grace
Ways to go forth into our world,
Eagerly, gently, with love,
Courage, and with strength.
All of us, love you.
dear, loving son, brother, grandson, nephew, cousin, soulmate, and friend
Snow falls gently on this earth,
Quiets us.
Sunlight rises to the fullness of day,
Quickens our hearts.
We are brought to our knees with loss
And are full with gratitude for your life, Wallace.
This need… we need
The kindness of your open heart,
Your patient strength
And your way on this earth,
The way you sought the mountains, ocean, and air,
Interested and searching with keen mind
and attention for the magic.
How perfectly natural,
You against the cobalt sky, body
Spinning, Backside 360
Or you,
Balanced on the precise moment of the wave’s curl
Surfing toward shore.
Or you, against the cushioned couch at home,
Fingers flying over the a laptop intent
On building a design with Dreamweaver.
This is an Instant Message dear Wallace –
We know you loved,
Because you listened, teased, laughed and learned.
You embraced your mother and father, brothers, family
And your abundance of friends.
You would want us enjoy this world,
hold on to what is just, good, and beautiful.
We will hold on to you dear Wallace,
Learn from your grace
Ways to go forth into our world,
Eagerly, gently, with love,
Courage, and with strength.
All of us, love you.
Alex Bogle
Fellow skiers, snowboarders, friends and family I stand before you privileged to honor Wallace B. Westfeldt today. I am Alex Bogle, one of Wallace’s older cousins and have been blessed to be apart of Wallace, Patrick, Ben, Nancy and Weems life since I was born.
God granted Wallace an unbelievable gift and he used it with such passion and vigor. Wallace is an artist of the truest sense and the mountain was his canvas. He did so many spectacular things on his snowboard that caused millions of people to be in AWE over!!! This was made very apparent by the hundreds of people that attended his service on the snow. Each and every one of us touched by the magic of Wallace.
Wallace, although surely not planned, hoped for or expected, was separated from his earthly body doing the very most favorite thing in the world for him. Very few of us will get to choose our passing out of this life on earth. So many people die as a result of crimes, war, drunken drivers, disease, famine, cancer – each one a tragedy – but none of them in pleasant surroundings…doing what they loved to do and be. Wallace’s last breath was doing what he LOVED. In reality, he worshiped God doing what he LOVED doing…being what God wanted him to be. How many people ever end their days on this earth doing what they absolutely LOVED.
- I ask myself how would Wallace want me to portray him, you all know his accolades in Snowboarding but I want people to know how beautiful of a human being he is and always will be. I want people to know that Wallace was the type of person who lit up a room when he walked into it. I want to celebrate Wallace because Wallace enthusiastically celebrated life everyday. A perfect example of this:
Making best of every situation - Brownie Eating Contest
Patience – Teaching snowboarding
Compassion – His relationship with his Mother and Father
I am so incredibly proud of the man Wallace had become. He was my angel on earth and now he is our guardian angel in heaven. Wallace, Patrick and Ben are brothers to me, I may be older than they are, but it is me that looks up to each of them. Thank you, Wallace, for making me a better person. Thank you for being my confidence and courage on the mountain. You are my best friend, you are my brother!
Every day when we are up on the mountain, if you look for Wallace you will find him. Everyday you are on the beach, if you look for him you will find him. He will always be with us. Wallace will always be in my heart. I LOVE YOU WALLACE and I want everyone to honor Wallace by celebrating each day of their life as Wallace did.
God granted Wallace an unbelievable gift and he used it with such passion and vigor. Wallace is an artist of the truest sense and the mountain was his canvas. He did so many spectacular things on his snowboard that caused millions of people to be in AWE over!!! This was made very apparent by the hundreds of people that attended his service on the snow. Each and every one of us touched by the magic of Wallace.
Wallace, although surely not planned, hoped for or expected, was separated from his earthly body doing the very most favorite thing in the world for him. Very few of us will get to choose our passing out of this life on earth. So many people die as a result of crimes, war, drunken drivers, disease, famine, cancer – each one a tragedy – but none of them in pleasant surroundings…doing what they loved to do and be. Wallace’s last breath was doing what he LOVED. In reality, he worshiped God doing what he LOVED doing…being what God wanted him to be. How many people ever end their days on this earth doing what they absolutely LOVED.
- I ask myself how would Wallace want me to portray him, you all know his accolades in Snowboarding but I want people to know how beautiful of a human being he is and always will be. I want people to know that Wallace was the type of person who lit up a room when he walked into it. I want to celebrate Wallace because Wallace enthusiastically celebrated life everyday. A perfect example of this:
Making best of every situation - Brownie Eating Contest
Patience – Teaching snowboarding
Compassion – His relationship with his Mother and Father
I am so incredibly proud of the man Wallace had become. He was my angel on earth and now he is our guardian angel in heaven. Wallace, Patrick and Ben are brothers to me, I may be older than they are, but it is me that looks up to each of them. Thank you, Wallace, for making me a better person. Thank you for being my confidence and courage on the mountain. You are my best friend, you are my brother!
Every day when we are up on the mountain, if you look for Wallace you will find him. Everyday you are on the beach, if you look for him you will find him. He will always be with us. Wallace will always be in my heart. I LOVE YOU WALLACE and I want everyone to honor Wallace by celebrating each day of their life as Wallace did.
Miah Wheeler
I will try to paint a picture that is 15 years old. It is of a little kid named named Wallace, which I refused to call Wallace, his name was Turtle. He wore a green pullover jacket that was way too big, on top of his smiling face was a helmet that resembled a turtle shell, he was Turtle. I was 17 working for ski school at the time. Over the next 4 years I would drag Turtle down runs on the Wall and Rock Island that I knew were pushing his limits. Turtle never knew that, he was only 8. He would style rowdy lines like the Hourglass and Rayburn’s (with the root jump) like it was a normal day. I remember telling Turtle not to tell his parents about these days, he always did. Weems would come up to me the next weekend with the biggest proudest smile and ask “did Wallace really do that”? When I confirmed our previous weekend activities Weems face would light up with excitement, which made us proud our adventures. Weems got it, we were having the time of our lives.
One of Turtles favorite runs was Lunkerville. There used to be a lip at the bottom of the straight away into the flats. The lip isn’t there anymore because the cat drivers caught wind of how much air you could catch (like the old 747 jump) and they mellowed it into non-existence. We would hit that jump everyday we were together. Given I exaggerate a little at times, turtle would go 60 feet off that thing. The catch was that you had to point it for at least 300 yards to catch any air. Straight lining any run for that far was nerve wracking, especially for a little kid. One day Eric Smith, Turtle and I were waiting for people to clear out before we hit it. Turtle said “I need to go to the bathroom,” E and I cracked up and decided to call the jump “Turtle Head”.
4 years later I went to college. I would get email updates like “I learned backflips” or “ I rode the Belt-buckle with patrol for my first time”. I was surprised and impressed and knew that he could handle anything he could get himself into. Word spread that Turtle was a badass rider.
After graduating from college I accepted a job offer from AVSC, my first call after accepting was to Turtle. At the time I didn’t realize that Turtle had turned into Wallace, the real deal snowboarder. At first I tried calling him Turtle, but something had changed. He was mature and emotionally sophisticated, not to mention that he could grow one of the best neck beards out there. We spent the next many years honing strategy and skills, and it paid off. Wallace was a fierce competitor at every event we went to whether it was the highest level of slope-style competitions or the Legendary Mt Baker Banked Slalom. What made Wallace particularly special was his attitude. He would use every competition as a learning experience. He got it. It is rare in the coaching world to have an athlete with phenomenal work ethic and a humble introspective personality. Wallace was a silent leader within AVSC. We would travel the world for competitions and to seek out the best shredding year round. If Wallace was there I knew that the moral integrity of our team would be represented to the highest level. I was so proud of him and knew he would go on to make me even prouder.
That brings me to Wally-doo. I think about two years ago Wallace turned into Wally-doo for many of the coaching staff and other athletes. This was the start of realizing that he was not only an accomplished snowboarder, but a dear friend. The root for this name, besides sounding really cute, was that Wallace would DO anything, anytime, for anybody. Wally-doo was a term of affection and an indicator of how we looked up to him. He had developed into not only an awesome rider and friend, but an awesome coach. In New Zealand two years ago he taught me more in one summer than I had learned in a decade. Needless to say, I wanted him around as much as possible. He had the patience that I wish I still had as a 17 year old. Wally impacted the young team in a way that amazed my staff and me. We had so much faith in him. I knew he was a very talented coach so I sent him to Mt.Hood to coach a group of 7-10 year old rippers last summer. WOW, they were stoked and I was so proud of the style and ownership Wally took in the role of a coach.
At Nationals last week I sat in front of the team and tried to explain what a champion really was. A champion doesn’t always win. In fact a champion might possibly never win at all. You have to believe you are a champion long before you win. We talked about a champion being a state of mind. By thinking like a champion you never lose, and you can make any situation a positive one. The reward for living the life of a champion is more than results, it means leaving a positive impression on the world. Wally is my new definition of a champion
In retrospect it is amazing how things have come full circle. The start of my story has me as Turtle’s coach when he was 7; the end is a 22 year old Wally-doo that was teaching his experiences to a whole new generation of young athletes that will never forget him.
I could not be prouder.
One of Turtles favorite runs was Lunkerville. There used to be a lip at the bottom of the straight away into the flats. The lip isn’t there anymore because the cat drivers caught wind of how much air you could catch (like the old 747 jump) and they mellowed it into non-existence. We would hit that jump everyday we were together. Given I exaggerate a little at times, turtle would go 60 feet off that thing. The catch was that you had to point it for at least 300 yards to catch any air. Straight lining any run for that far was nerve wracking, especially for a little kid. One day Eric Smith, Turtle and I were waiting for people to clear out before we hit it. Turtle said “I need to go to the bathroom,” E and I cracked up and decided to call the jump “Turtle Head”.
4 years later I went to college. I would get email updates like “I learned backflips” or “ I rode the Belt-buckle with patrol for my first time”. I was surprised and impressed and knew that he could handle anything he could get himself into. Word spread that Turtle was a badass rider.
After graduating from college I accepted a job offer from AVSC, my first call after accepting was to Turtle. At the time I didn’t realize that Turtle had turned into Wallace, the real deal snowboarder. At first I tried calling him Turtle, but something had changed. He was mature and emotionally sophisticated, not to mention that he could grow one of the best neck beards out there. We spent the next many years honing strategy and skills, and it paid off. Wallace was a fierce competitor at every event we went to whether it was the highest level of slope-style competitions or the Legendary Mt Baker Banked Slalom. What made Wallace particularly special was his attitude. He would use every competition as a learning experience. He got it. It is rare in the coaching world to have an athlete with phenomenal work ethic and a humble introspective personality. Wallace was a silent leader within AVSC. We would travel the world for competitions and to seek out the best shredding year round. If Wallace was there I knew that the moral integrity of our team would be represented to the highest level. I was so proud of him and knew he would go on to make me even prouder.
That brings me to Wally-doo. I think about two years ago Wallace turned into Wally-doo for many of the coaching staff and other athletes. This was the start of realizing that he was not only an accomplished snowboarder, but a dear friend. The root for this name, besides sounding really cute, was that Wallace would DO anything, anytime, for anybody. Wally-doo was a term of affection and an indicator of how we looked up to him. He had developed into not only an awesome rider and friend, but an awesome coach. In New Zealand two years ago he taught me more in one summer than I had learned in a decade. Needless to say, I wanted him around as much as possible. He had the patience that I wish I still had as a 17 year old. Wally impacted the young team in a way that amazed my staff and me. We had so much faith in him. I knew he was a very talented coach so I sent him to Mt.Hood to coach a group of 7-10 year old rippers last summer. WOW, they were stoked and I was so proud of the style and ownership Wally took in the role of a coach.
At Nationals last week I sat in front of the team and tried to explain what a champion really was. A champion doesn’t always win. In fact a champion might possibly never win at all. You have to believe you are a champion long before you win. We talked about a champion being a state of mind. By thinking like a champion you never lose, and you can make any situation a positive one. The reward for living the life of a champion is more than results, it means leaving a positive impression on the world. Wally is my new definition of a champion
In retrospect it is amazing how things have come full circle. The start of my story has me as Turtle’s coach when he was 7; the end is a 22 year old Wally-doo that was teaching his experiences to a whole new generation of young athletes that will never forget him.
I could not be prouder.
Wallace Carrington Westfeldt
“My name is Wallace Westfeldt. I am grateful and honored to share that name with my nephew Wallace, as is my Uncle Wallace who sends his love and affection to everyone.
My brothers Patrick and Weems and myself have had several conversations with our Dad, who could not be here today. Dad wanted us to express a few things today for him. First of all, there is the sadness, the love, and his pride in his grandson. Dad is 88 years old and watching him trying to absorb this news, and make sense of this tragedy is moving and, at his age, a repetitive experience. Throughout the repetitions one point has consistently been present and he would like to share that today.
For people outside the skiing and snowboarding world the term “out of bounds” means a place you are not suppose to be. Most of us here know, that’s incorrect. “Out of bounds” is back-country terrain that happens to be near a commercial ski area. Folks have been skiing the back-country since before there were commercial ski areas.
To be in the back-country, one needs special skills, experience, and athleticism, all of which Wallace had in abundance. Indeed, Wallace was a professional “out of bounds” snowboarder. On Friday, he was doing his job, doing what he wanted to do, and exactly where he was supposed to be on a day when things didn’t go right. Whether you are naval pilot, ocean sailor, high steel worker, or professional athlete … no matter the training and the skill … sometimes things don’t go right.
Our Dad knows that the group here today understands this. With pride and in honor of his grandson, he requests that those of us in the snow world, when given the opportunity, take the time to politely correct those folks who understandably, misunderstand the term “out of bounds.”
On Friday, Wallace went to work. He took his gear, experience, tremendous skills, an incredible ability to focus, and his joy to the jobsite. The jobsite was Tonar Bowl, exactly where he was supposed to be.”
Please pass this on.
Love,
Wallace
My brothers Patrick and Weems and myself have had several conversations with our Dad, who could not be here today. Dad wanted us to express a few things today for him. First of all, there is the sadness, the love, and his pride in his grandson. Dad is 88 years old and watching him trying to absorb this news, and make sense of this tragedy is moving and, at his age, a repetitive experience. Throughout the repetitions one point has consistently been present and he would like to share that today.
For people outside the skiing and snowboarding world the term “out of bounds” means a place you are not suppose to be. Most of us here know, that’s incorrect. “Out of bounds” is back-country terrain that happens to be near a commercial ski area. Folks have been skiing the back-country since before there were commercial ski areas.
To be in the back-country, one needs special skills, experience, and athleticism, all of which Wallace had in abundance. Indeed, Wallace was a professional “out of bounds” snowboarder. On Friday, he was doing his job, doing what he wanted to do, and exactly where he was supposed to be on a day when things didn’t go right. Whether you are naval pilot, ocean sailor, high steel worker, or professional athlete … no matter the training and the skill … sometimes things don’t go right.
Our Dad knows that the group here today understands this. With pride and in honor of his grandson, he requests that those of us in the snow world, when given the opportunity, take the time to politely correct those folks who understandably, misunderstand the term “out of bounds.”
On Friday, Wallace went to work. He took his gear, experience, tremendous skills, an incredible ability to focus, and his joy to the jobsite. The jobsite was Tonar Bowl, exactly where he was supposed to be.”
Please pass this on.
Love,
Wallace
Dylan Westfeldt
my half brother Wallace died the other day. measured in emotion, high and low, mostly low, the lowest, but also highs, it feels like months of moons. i haven’t felt as many highs and lows in the last decade as i have felt in the past, strong, weak week. scores and scores have spoken powerfully and eloquently about Wallace, his life, his special, lovely life, and his death, his disastrous, tremendous death. those of you who speak of him, think of him, dream of him, and believe in the things he represented help to compose and conduct his requiem.
Wallace’s death is wretched. the timing, worse…for there was much much much that this young lover, rider, son, brother, and mathematician was going to do, many that he was going to make happy. the manner of his departure, however, is poetic and perfect. he did not die in a heinous war, in a worthless car accident, in a squalid drug deal. he died on a giant mountain, under a giant sky, near his beautiful brother, Packy, in soft, big flight. i am not glorifying a reckless act, for a reckless act it was not. i am honoring a meticulous young man claimed by the mountain during a poetic act of physical expression. those who look further than this for an explanation of my brother’s death, methinks, are mistaken or uninformed as to the nature of this gentle, sophisticated young man.
he leaves behind two other men that i now know better. perfect Ben and stand-tall Packy. for these are men, not boys, and they grieve as men, not boys. i don’t know whether this makes it harder, easier, or neither. but i am aware that they are not experiencing this horror as boys. Ben, especially when he doesn’t know that you’re looking at him, observes things with a soft appreciation of an old man able to appreciate the importance of grace. he is robust, hard working, and sweet. Packy has a man’s snicker, a knowing snicker, and a generous heart. and i love the way his hair sprouts out between his goggles and ski helmet. unimaginable bereavement lies ahead, still, for these soul-shattered young men, Ben and Packy. but i also know how well-loved they are, how caring they are, how smart they are. and this is no small confluence of blessings. i also know that, by virtue of their most intimate knowledge of all things Wallace, there are few with a greater ability to – as our father weems wishes – make room for gratitude’s rightful place alongside the sorrow of the loss of Wallace, of Wally-do, Wallace UU. Wallace, Ben and Packy were forged together, by their strong mother, Nancy, dripping with love of her sons. Ben and Packy will rebuild, over time, a life in which Wallace resides in their acts, their beliefs, their choices. as Ben and Packy themselves have so astonishingly said, they are Wallace Briggs Westfeldt.
love from stephanie and dylan to ben, packy, nancy, and weems
dylan
Wallace’s death is wretched. the timing, worse…for there was much much much that this young lover, rider, son, brother, and mathematician was going to do, many that he was going to make happy. the manner of his departure, however, is poetic and perfect. he did not die in a heinous war, in a worthless car accident, in a squalid drug deal. he died on a giant mountain, under a giant sky, near his beautiful brother, Packy, in soft, big flight. i am not glorifying a reckless act, for a reckless act it was not. i am honoring a meticulous young man claimed by the mountain during a poetic act of physical expression. those who look further than this for an explanation of my brother’s death, methinks, are mistaken or uninformed as to the nature of this gentle, sophisticated young man.
he leaves behind two other men that i now know better. perfect Ben and stand-tall Packy. for these are men, not boys, and they grieve as men, not boys. i don’t know whether this makes it harder, easier, or neither. but i am aware that they are not experiencing this horror as boys. Ben, especially when he doesn’t know that you’re looking at him, observes things with a soft appreciation of an old man able to appreciate the importance of grace. he is robust, hard working, and sweet. Packy has a man’s snicker, a knowing snicker, and a generous heart. and i love the way his hair sprouts out between his goggles and ski helmet. unimaginable bereavement lies ahead, still, for these soul-shattered young men, Ben and Packy. but i also know how well-loved they are, how caring they are, how smart they are. and this is no small confluence of blessings. i also know that, by virtue of their most intimate knowledge of all things Wallace, there are few with a greater ability to – as our father weems wishes – make room for gratitude’s rightful place alongside the sorrow of the loss of Wallace, of Wally-do, Wallace UU. Wallace, Ben and Packy were forged together, by their strong mother, Nancy, dripping with love of her sons. Ben and Packy will rebuild, over time, a life in which Wallace resides in their acts, their beliefs, their choices. as Ben and Packy themselves have so astonishingly said, they are Wallace Briggs Westfeldt.
love from stephanie and dylan to ben, packy, nancy, and weems
dylan
Linda Finnegan
(These are the lyrics to a wonderful song she wrote and sings.)
Tell it about the mountain,
the mountain we must climb,
tell it about the highest peak
and losin all sense of time
Tell it about the valley
way down low,
tell it about the jouney
on which we all must go
but it's a long cold lonely road
without you to hold
it's a long cold lonely road
without you to hold...my hand.
Tell it abou the hunger
deap down in your soul,
tell it about your sleepless nights
and the feeling that you're getting old
tell it about the darkness,
tell it about the light,
tell it about your inner peace
when you're fighting the good fight
but it's a hard harsh bitter fight
without you by my side,
it's a long cold lonely road,
it's a hard harsh bitter fight
without you... to hold
my hand.
Tell it about the mountain,
the mountain we must climb,
tell it about the highest peak
and losin all sense of time
Tell it about the valley
way down low,
tell it about the jouney
on which we all must go
but it's a long cold lonely road
without you to hold
it's a long cold lonely road
without you to hold...my hand.
Tell it abou the hunger
deap down in your soul,
tell it about your sleepless nights
and the feeling that you're getting old
tell it about the darkness,
tell it about the light,
tell it about your inner peace
when you're fighting the good fight
but it's a hard harsh bitter fight
without you by my side,
it's a long cold lonely road,
it's a hard harsh bitter fight
without you... to hold
my hand.
James P. Finnegan
Wallace was a kind and generous soul, there’s no doubt about it. There was a rare and genuine interest for each new acquaintance to be found in Wallace, and this facet of his personality was so modest, so simple, that it was easy to take for granted. In addition to his athleticism, his drive and his courage, I firmly believe that this was Wallace’s essential and selfless gift to each person he met in life.
Wherever Wallace was present, so was his attentive and always-open ear — an extension of his equally open soul. It can be easily seen and appreciated that everyone present here was fortunate to appreciate Wallace’s generosity while sharing in his life. As a cousin who loved him dearly as a brother, I firmly believe that — long after this day has ended — his spirit will continue to reverberate throughout this valley, echoing and warming the hearts of everyone Wallace touched in life. We love you Wallace, and I’ll miss you terribly until we meet again.
In memory of
When you look upon the valley
Aspens bereaved of their leaves,
Lamenting as the pines look on —
Linger not on sad thoughts, but
Affix your soul to mine, which
Caresses your snow-flaked brow;
Embrace the everlasting.
Wherever Wallace was present, so was his attentive and always-open ear — an extension of his equally open soul. It can be easily seen and appreciated that everyone present here was fortunate to appreciate Wallace’s generosity while sharing in his life. As a cousin who loved him dearly as a brother, I firmly believe that — long after this day has ended — his spirit will continue to reverberate throughout this valley, echoing and warming the hearts of everyone Wallace touched in life. We love you Wallace, and I’ll miss you terribly until we meet again.
In memory of
When you look upon the valley
Aspens bereaved of their leaves,
Lamenting as the pines look on —
Linger not on sad thoughts, but
Affix your soul to mine, which
Caresses your snow-flaked brow;
Embrace the everlasting.
Cary Finnegan
Wallace, Packy, and Ben have been my closest cousins for as long as I can remember; they are like brothers to me. Even though geography separates us during the school year I always look forward to that day each summer where we reunite on the East coast to live in Little Compton, Rhode Island for the summer. Definitely one of my all time favorite days of every year.
Being here in Aspen celebrating the extraordinary life of Wallace I can’t help but realize how amazing it is how deeply he has impacted two different worlds, one here in Colorado and the other in Little Compton. My world with Wallace has been at Briggs Beach; it includes Smith Village, lobster races, catching frogs in the frog pond, night games, the jumping rock, card games at the cabana, whiffle ball, two-dollar Tuesday night movies, beach bonfires, and family barbeques.
It is hard for me to believe that Briggs Beach can even exist without Wallace and I know that Little Compton will never be the same for me without him but for every summer for the rest of my life I am determined to experience and celebrate the ways in which Wallace’s spirit have touched and changed Briggs Beach and my life. His kindness, sense of humor, sincerity, love of adventure, his passion and genuine love for life will forever remain in my heart and at Briggs Beach.
Wallace was an inspiration in the way he lived his life and will continue to inspire me. I love you Wallace Briggs Westfeldt and I am going to miss you so much.
Being here in Aspen celebrating the extraordinary life of Wallace I can’t help but realize how amazing it is how deeply he has impacted two different worlds, one here in Colorado and the other in Little Compton. My world with Wallace has been at Briggs Beach; it includes Smith Village, lobster races, catching frogs in the frog pond, night games, the jumping rock, card games at the cabana, whiffle ball, two-dollar Tuesday night movies, beach bonfires, and family barbeques.
It is hard for me to believe that Briggs Beach can even exist without Wallace and I know that Little Compton will never be the same for me without him but for every summer for the rest of my life I am determined to experience and celebrate the ways in which Wallace’s spirit have touched and changed Briggs Beach and my life. His kindness, sense of humor, sincerity, love of adventure, his passion and genuine love for life will forever remain in my heart and at Briggs Beach.
Wallace was an inspiration in the way he lived his life and will continue to inspire me. I love you Wallace Briggs Westfeldt and I am going to miss you so much.
John Lafferty
A few final things I need to say to our friend, Wallace. I figured this would be as good a time as any if you guys can hang in there with me for about 3 and ½ minutes. Hopefully the words come out right and I don’t sound like too big of an idiot!
Wallace, your life was intricately woven together with the lives of all your loving friends and family like the steadfast strands of steel spliced into the cables on the lifts we ride together every day. The cable is frayed now and many are surely scared to go on riding the lift. But the snowflakes will continue to fall in threes and the brave will still trust our cable to carry them to the top of life’s mountains. The thought of shredding without you takes my breath away and fills bucket after bucket with the kind of tears that we laughed about matching our tight pants. So instead of charging on without you, we will keep you with us on top of every line, at the peak of every backswing, and most importantly at the center of every smile.
Your life was as diverse and amazing as every fleck of flying snow you would send blasting into the air during a mach 6 pow slash. You woke up every day and sent it. Unfortunately, when you live life the way we did, sometimes it ends as quickly as the best run of your life. Every run I shared with you was the best run of my life, and there is nothing I will miss more than your smile standing across from me at the foot of a hill—except maybe your jeans or those white high-tops that you scored at TJ Maxx.
So here I am, sitting in the driver’s seat, awkwardly pulled over for the 5th time in 24 hours, unable to fathom looking through the tears and past my blinking hazard lights for fear of seeing a world without you in it. The void beyond the bubble of my Nissan’s passenger cabin scares me almost as bad as the thought of the police witnessing one of our drive-by paintball sign assassinations in California, or Miah’s face after we peeled out in that parking lot in Wanaka. We shared so many adventures and so many grins. Often, they occurred far enough from home that I’ve come to realize that I feel more at home with you than on any one dot on a meaningless map. Today, I think it’s important that all of us who felt so comfortable and so at home with Wallace remember now that we are not homeless, but instead, we should find ourselves perpetually at home, living in the same exciting world that we were once lucky enough to share with this incredible human being.
Wallace, you are a legend. I look up to you more than any person I have ever met. You stood up for me when I was a little freshman, getting picked on in Ms. McKinney’s math class. You guided my love life with witty golf course gossip every day after school in Boulder. You talked with me at length on subjects profound enough that I chose to add a philosophy major to my college path. And I reckon it’s no surprise that, after I saw your NZ photos, I found myself spending an entire season in Wanaka, with you. I am realizing that an immeasurable component of my personality came from who you were, Wallace, and I just can’t thank Weems, Nancy, Ben, or Packy enough for sculpting and introducing this incredible person into the world, and into my life. Wallace, you shaped more than turns in the snow and smiles on faces. You shaped who I am, a statement that, by my estimation, also applies to at least every person present here today. Wallace, we love you more than any words can explain, and you will not be forgotten.
Wallace, your life was intricately woven together with the lives of all your loving friends and family like the steadfast strands of steel spliced into the cables on the lifts we ride together every day. The cable is frayed now and many are surely scared to go on riding the lift. But the snowflakes will continue to fall in threes and the brave will still trust our cable to carry them to the top of life’s mountains. The thought of shredding without you takes my breath away and fills bucket after bucket with the kind of tears that we laughed about matching our tight pants. So instead of charging on without you, we will keep you with us on top of every line, at the peak of every backswing, and most importantly at the center of every smile.
Your life was as diverse and amazing as every fleck of flying snow you would send blasting into the air during a mach 6 pow slash. You woke up every day and sent it. Unfortunately, when you live life the way we did, sometimes it ends as quickly as the best run of your life. Every run I shared with you was the best run of my life, and there is nothing I will miss more than your smile standing across from me at the foot of a hill—except maybe your jeans or those white high-tops that you scored at TJ Maxx.
So here I am, sitting in the driver’s seat, awkwardly pulled over for the 5th time in 24 hours, unable to fathom looking through the tears and past my blinking hazard lights for fear of seeing a world without you in it. The void beyond the bubble of my Nissan’s passenger cabin scares me almost as bad as the thought of the police witnessing one of our drive-by paintball sign assassinations in California, or Miah’s face after we peeled out in that parking lot in Wanaka. We shared so many adventures and so many grins. Often, they occurred far enough from home that I’ve come to realize that I feel more at home with you than on any one dot on a meaningless map. Today, I think it’s important that all of us who felt so comfortable and so at home with Wallace remember now that we are not homeless, but instead, we should find ourselves perpetually at home, living in the same exciting world that we were once lucky enough to share with this incredible human being.
Wallace, you are a legend. I look up to you more than any person I have ever met. You stood up for me when I was a little freshman, getting picked on in Ms. McKinney’s math class. You guided my love life with witty golf course gossip every day after school in Boulder. You talked with me at length on subjects profound enough that I chose to add a philosophy major to my college path. And I reckon it’s no surprise that, after I saw your NZ photos, I found myself spending an entire season in Wanaka, with you. I am realizing that an immeasurable component of my personality came from who you were, Wallace, and I just can’t thank Weems, Nancy, Ben, or Packy enough for sculpting and introducing this incredible person into the world, and into my life. Wallace, you shaped more than turns in the snow and smiles on faces. You shaped who I am, a statement that, by my estimation, also applies to at least every person present here today. Wallace, we love you more than any words can explain, and you will not be forgotten.
Michael Emerson
I’ve had to think long and hard about what I would like to say about Wallace. Wallace was a man like no other; he was a best friend and the most genuine person I have ever known. Over all the years I’ve known Wallace, I don’t have a single memory of him being in a somber mood. No matter what the situation, Wallace always found a way to inspire me, to encourage me, to motivate me. I don’t know how many times I have thought to myself, “If only I could be like Wallace in attitude and demeanor, nothing could hold me back.” Unfortunately, I don’t always have the self-control to stay as calm, cool, and collected that Wallace exercised every second of every day, every day of every year. But perhaps the most amazing aspect of Wallace was his passion for living. I’m pretty sure that every morning in his life was started with a smile and the thought that “today is going to be a great day.” Not only was he an incredible role model to me, he was an inspiration to everyone that knew him. Wallace touched so many people; it’s absolutely incredible. Listening to the all the wonderful accounts of his life have made me feel so honored and proud to have known him.
I was one of the fortunate ones to get to spend a lot of time with you, Wallace. The hundreds of days spent ridding together, the countless hours on planes, in cars, vans and trucks traveling the world, the shenanigans that took place in hotel rooms across the country, the long summer days on the golf course under the amazing Colorado sunshine, these are my most cherished memories, memories that I wouldn’t trade for anything.
To Weems...I did not know you well, but in spending so much time with Wallace, it feels like you are a part of me now, too. It was obvious that Wallace was so proud of his father’s love for the mountains. In our travels to New Zeeland, I remember Wallace telling me stories of your own travels to NZ during the younger days of your past. Wallace was thrilled to be following in your footsteps and having the same experiences, and I was thrilled to be sharing the same experiences with him. Thank you for everything that you gave Wallace, and in turn gave to me. No father could be more proud of his son!
To Nancy…Wallace’s love for his family was seen in his interactions with you. Wallace was truly a “momma’s boy” and he loved you very much. It was incredible to watch Wallace go out of his was to have an amazing relationship with you and the rest of your family. Every time I come to your house, you are always so hospitable. Whether you it’s making snacks for us before golf or feeding me a late dinner after gymnastics, you always make me feel like and extended member of the family. Thank you for that, and thank you for everything that you gave Wallace. No mother could be more proud of her son.
To Patrick and Ben…I don’t think I have ever seen three brothers with such a tight relationship. Although very different individually, the three of you came together like peas in a pod. Wallace’s love for his two brothers was insurmountable. Thank you for all the experiences I have shared with you guys, and thank you for being such a big influence in Wallace’s life. No triplet could be more proud of his brother.
To the rest of the family and all the friends…Thank you, too, for being a part of Wallace’s life. The outpouring of support for the family has been incredible, and equally as inspiring as Wallace. No person could be more proud to have known Wallace.
TO WALLACE…Thank you for everything that you gave me. You were an incredible inspiration in my life, and every day I aspire to be more like you. There isn’t a day that passes that I don’t think of your smiling face. I love you so much, and I am grateful that I will be able to keep you in my heart forever. Thanks again for everything, and I hope the snow is good!
P.S.
To Sharky, Alex, and Will…Thank you for your incredible accounts of your memories with Wallace. The maturity portrayed through your words is breathtaking. I only wish that I had such great wisdom at that stage in my own life.
I was one of the fortunate ones to get to spend a lot of time with you, Wallace. The hundreds of days spent ridding together, the countless hours on planes, in cars, vans and trucks traveling the world, the shenanigans that took place in hotel rooms across the country, the long summer days on the golf course under the amazing Colorado sunshine, these are my most cherished memories, memories that I wouldn’t trade for anything.
To Weems...I did not know you well, but in spending so much time with Wallace, it feels like you are a part of me now, too. It was obvious that Wallace was so proud of his father’s love for the mountains. In our travels to New Zeeland, I remember Wallace telling me stories of your own travels to NZ during the younger days of your past. Wallace was thrilled to be following in your footsteps and having the same experiences, and I was thrilled to be sharing the same experiences with him. Thank you for everything that you gave Wallace, and in turn gave to me. No father could be more proud of his son!
To Nancy…Wallace’s love for his family was seen in his interactions with you. Wallace was truly a “momma’s boy” and he loved you very much. It was incredible to watch Wallace go out of his was to have an amazing relationship with you and the rest of your family. Every time I come to your house, you are always so hospitable. Whether you it’s making snacks for us before golf or feeding me a late dinner after gymnastics, you always make me feel like and extended member of the family. Thank you for that, and thank you for everything that you gave Wallace. No mother could be more proud of her son.
To Patrick and Ben…I don’t think I have ever seen three brothers with such a tight relationship. Although very different individually, the three of you came together like peas in a pod. Wallace’s love for his two brothers was insurmountable. Thank you for all the experiences I have shared with you guys, and thank you for being such a big influence in Wallace’s life. No triplet could be more proud of his brother.
To the rest of the family and all the friends…Thank you, too, for being a part of Wallace’s life. The outpouring of support for the family has been incredible, and equally as inspiring as Wallace. No person could be more proud to have known Wallace.
TO WALLACE…Thank you for everything that you gave me. You were an incredible inspiration in my life, and every day I aspire to be more like you. There isn’t a day that passes that I don’t think of your smiling face. I love you so much, and I am grateful that I will be able to keep you in my heart forever. Thanks again for everything, and I hope the snow is good!
P.S.
To Sharky, Alex, and Will…Thank you for your incredible accounts of your memories with Wallace. The maturity portrayed through your words is breathtaking. I only wish that I had such great wisdom at that stage in my own life.
Jacqui Edgerly
Words from Jacqui Edgerly who was with Wallace on the day of the accident, and who competed in the free-ride contest in Alyeska the weekend following Wallace’s death. We are very proud of her for this, as it represented great courage and love.
I never heard a complaint or negative word come out of his mouth, only smiles and laughter. The last day of his life was a day no one could have asked for. On the 4th of April, 2008 there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the sun was shining, the wind was silent, and the snow was perfect. Whit his last few turns, the snow lit up as he laid them out like a surfer on a wave. And then Wallace soared off that cliff into the sky with passion and joy.
With all this sadness comes light.
We are all so fortunate to have one another. Life is so precious, and can berg hone in seconds. Everything is so beautiful—we must surround ourselves with that—submerge within it, feel it, love it. Wallace did that for sure.
One more thing: Packy, he would have been so proud of what you did. And you too, Owen. We tried all we could to save him.
I’ll be skiing for Wallace this weekend in Alaska. Check it out!
I never heard a complaint or negative word come out of his mouth, only smiles and laughter. The last day of his life was a day no one could have asked for. On the 4th of April, 2008 there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the sun was shining, the wind was silent, and the snow was perfect. Whit his last few turns, the snow lit up as he laid them out like a surfer on a wave. And then Wallace soared off that cliff into the sky with passion and joy.
With all this sadness comes light.
We are all so fortunate to have one another. Life is so precious, and can berg hone in seconds. Everything is so beautiful—we must surround ourselves with that—submerge within it, feel it, love it. Wallace did that for sure.
One more thing: Packy, he would have been so proud of what you did. And you too, Owen. We tried all we could to save him.
I’ll be skiing for Wallace this weekend in Alaska. Check it out!
Caitlin Burns
I had the pleasure of meeting Wallace while I was going to school at the University of Colorado in Boulder. It took being around him for a very short amount of time to realize how good of a person he was. His kind and quiet nature was always comforting in an atmosphere that is so much of the time quite the opposite. He knew how to give me a run for my money in a game of Scrabble and he and Packy took my Guitar Hero playing to the next level.
When my little sister came to school in Boulder a little over a year and a half ago I took on the role of protective older sister. I told her that under no circumstances was she allowed to get involved with any of my friends or anyone she met through my friends. But when she asked me about Wallace all I could say was that he was great. I couldn't come up with a single negative thing to say about him and I don't think that anyone could, even if they tried. As their relationship grew I saw all the wonderful things that he did for my sister and the happiness that he brought into her life.
I feel so fortunate to have the memories that have been able to keep us laughing in these last few days that have been so difficult.
I know that Wallace will be missed terribly, remembered fondly and loved truly, always.
When my little sister came to school in Boulder a little over a year and a half ago I took on the role of protective older sister. I told her that under no circumstances was she allowed to get involved with any of my friends or anyone she met through my friends. But when she asked me about Wallace all I could say was that he was great. I couldn't come up with a single negative thing to say about him and I don't think that anyone could, even if they tried. As their relationship grew I saw all the wonderful things that he did for my sister and the happiness that he brought into her life.
I feel so fortunate to have the memories that have been able to keep us laughing in these last few days that have been so difficult.
I know that Wallace will be missed terribly, remembered fondly and loved truly, always.
Michael Burns
Michael Burns
My name is Michael Burns and I'm the father of Caitlin and Amelia Burns. If you think Caitlin was concerned about Amelia taking up with one of Caitlin's friends, I was a nervous wreck. After Amelia had been at CU for awhile Caitlin let it slip that Amelia had a boyfriend.
Of course my wife and I were very curious about what type of guy
Amelia had found. Amelia kind of played it cool with info that she shared with us. My wife and I were very anxious and excited to finally meet Wallace which happened last May when he visited us at our home on Bainbridge Island.
We were both quite taken by Wallace and also by how well Amelia and Wallace got along. I remember having dinner with my wife Darden, Wallace and Amelia and thinking what a cute couple. Of course Darden was ecstatic. She was so pleased that Amelia had found such a nice young man to spend time with. However me being the Dad I had to remain a little more reserved. I needed to check him out a little deeper and my opportunity came last February when I came to Aspen to ski with Amelia. It was then that I met Nancy and Weems, Packy and Ben. I couldn't wait to call my wife and tell her what a wonderful family Wallace came from. They checked out beyond my dreams.
Yes Wallace was now O.K. by me. As a dad it was great comfort than knowing my daughter was with such a fine young man.
My name is Michael Burns and I'm the father of Caitlin and Amelia Burns. If you think Caitlin was concerned about Amelia taking up with one of Caitlin's friends, I was a nervous wreck. After Amelia had been at CU for awhile Caitlin let it slip that Amelia had a boyfriend.
Of course my wife and I were very curious about what type of guy
Amelia had found. Amelia kind of played it cool with info that she shared with us. My wife and I were very anxious and excited to finally meet Wallace which happened last May when he visited us at our home on Bainbridge Island.
We were both quite taken by Wallace and also by how well Amelia and Wallace got along. I remember having dinner with my wife Darden, Wallace and Amelia and thinking what a cute couple. Of course Darden was ecstatic. She was so pleased that Amelia had found such a nice young man to spend time with. However me being the Dad I had to remain a little more reserved. I needed to check him out a little deeper and my opportunity came last February when I came to Aspen to ski with Amelia. It was then that I met Nancy and Weems, Packy and Ben. I couldn't wait to call my wife and tell her what a wonderful family Wallace came from. They checked out beyond my dreams.
Yes Wallace was now O.K. by me. As a dad it was great comfort than knowing my daughter was with such a fine young man.
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