Posted by Herbert Riggs Wagenheim on August 19, 2021:

My father, Herbert Myers Wagenheim, passed away on March 12, 2021. The official obit covers most of the high points, but I thought I would fill in some of the cracks and add some personal anecdotes. I grew up living with my dad until my parents divorced when I was around 11 years old. I remember him coming to all my football, baseball and hockey games growing up. I remember him as a solid guy who went to work, took care of the yard and supported my sister and me in our interests. I was proud of his military service, but that pride and respect has grown as I've gotten older. My first memories are of what I assume was base housing in West Point. I still have dreams of the neighborhood, the old radiators and our crabby toy poodle, Rebel. He taught me my first curse word, "dammit", when he hit his head on some mistletoe one Christmas. When I repeated it one day after getting into fire ants, I was cornered into throwing him under the bus for having taught me that word. The "interrogator" did not believe that it was him that taught me that word. He was not really the outdoorsy type, but we went on a Cub Scout camping trip once. He held his own, taught me to respect when Taps was played by the bugler and we completed all required activities. I became disoriented in the middle of the night and urinated on all our stuff. Dad let it go. I was never really sure what he thought about that. After the divorce, we moved from Huntsville 3 hours away to Tuscaloosa with my mother. He stayed behind in Huntsville, but he made sure that we saw each other at least once a month. Most of the time he drove to Tuscaloosa on Friday night, drive me back to Huntsville and drove me back Sunday evening. On a couple of occasions, he rented a Cessna 152 or 172 and flew me back to Huntsville. That was amazing. Even with the weekend trips and him coming to my weekend sports games, I can't say that that was enough time with him. I would have rather grown up with my father in the house. We had some special trips to Wheeling, West Virginia to see his parents several times, lots of Alabama games at Legion Field, Braves and Falcons game and to Canton, OH to visit the Professional Football Hall of Fame. While I was being indoctrinated in liberal arts studies in college, he patiently listened to my rants about what a detriment corn was to the environment and our health in general. To this day I don't know how he didn't throw my ass into an Ohio corn field and let me find my way out, but he didn't. He was never much on advice except to tell me to do my best at whatever I was doing. As I've gotten older, so many things he said or did when I was growing up have rung true and make sense now. Having children myself has also changed me and I've looked to him and those memories for inspiration and as a template. He made some mistakes that affected more than just him, but a lesson of mistake is often more powerful than a lesson of success. We are very different people, but every once in a while I catch myself in a "Dang, that sounds like something Dad would say" moment. In the last few years, Dad's health and mobility declined, but his mind stayed sharp and he always knew what was going on. In all honesty, I was angry with him and his spouse for the last few years. My sister and I tried to get them to move into an independent and then an assisted living facility as mobility and normal daily functions declined. He dragged his feet and just kept putting us off. I understand how difficult it must be to leave your home and some freedoms behind, but we thought we could have our father around for a few more years if he were in a safer environment. Our fear was realized as my father fell, hit his head and never recovered. My daughter and I visited him the week before and he was as sharp was ever. A week later he was barely communicative in a hospital bed and I had to talk to him on the phone outside his room window because they wouldn't let me due to Covid restrictions. A week later we lost him forever. My last photo of him was of him in that hospital bed giving me the thumbs up. I'll keep that and memories of my father forever. We personally delivered his some 600+ books on military history to The Veterans Memorial Museum in Huntsville, AL. When anyone asked him if he had read all those books he would say, "I have all these books because I want my family to know who I am. I'm the guy with all the books that he hasn't read." I suspect that is not entirely true, but funny anyway. He was a good guy, was loved by many and was so proud of his family, the United States military, West Point and, especially, the Class of '56. We will all miss you, Dad.

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