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Home / Neighborhood / San Gabriel Valley / Arcadia Weekly / Wallace ( Wally) E. Hage 6/30/1928 – 1/9/2012

Wallace ( Wally) E. Hage 6/30/1928 – 1/9/2012

by Terry Miller
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Wallace ( Wally) E. Hage
6/30/1928 – 1/9/2012

We deeply regret to report that a dear friend and columnist for this newspaper passed away Jan 9. Wally Hage had just the right combination of humor, life experience and wisdom to be a well-loved community newspaper columnist. Born in Portland Oregon June 30, 1928, he spend 32 years working for AT&T and served in the Marine Corps from 1952- 1954 during the Korean War. Wally was happily married for 63 years to his wonderful wife Patricia who was often the inspiration for many a column. He is survived by his wife, 3 sons, five grandchildren. He was preceded in death by his granddaughter Rachel. The family asks that in place of flowers that a donation be made to:

The Rachel Ann Hage Neuro-Oncology Fund
Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles
4650 Sunset Blvd. MS #54
Los Angeles, Ca 90027

We would like to publish one more column from Wally’s vast archive. This column we, and his family feel is most appropriate. We will miss you Wally:

“CREATIVE” WRITING
By Wally Hage

My friends and colleagues often ask me how I got started writing…to answer this question, I have to go back to when I was a youngster doing sidewalk writing with chalk. Today, it’s called graffiti. My initial writing looked something like this…WH + PC. Sometimes I would draw a heart around it and an arrow through the letters and it might be titled “True Love.” Carving my initials into the bark of trees was another graffiti-like activity that I frequently pursued. Also putting my handprints and initials into newly poured concrete was a unique and most enjoyable writing style until my neighbor referred the matter and the cost for repair to my Mom. After my Mom took the matter into her own hands, I lost all further interest in continuing my signature-like graffiti activities.

During my early school days, I specialized in the art of temporary tattooing. That is, I was writing on my hands and arms. This type of writing had a lot to do with the grades I received as I progressed from the third grade to the fourth grade. Today it is referred to as crib notes.

As I grew older, I became more diversified in my writing style. I wrote in the dust on the piano in our living room and in the wintertime, our fogged-up windows and mirrors were just too irresistible to pass up leaving a message. This generally triggered a quick reaction from my Mom, causing me to “do time.” In other words, I had to clean the windows and mirrors before I could sit down to dinner, and often it was necessary to stand while eating because it was painful to sit.

The creative signs that I printed on my bedroom door such as “Do not disturb on school days” or “I can not clean my room today as I’m busy” also caused that same part of my body to hurt.

I soon acquired a special artistry for writing on dirty cars. My Dad wasn’t much for washing his car, so I could easily autograph it on the hood and occasionally print a message and draw artwork on the side of his car for the neighbors to read. Some of them referred to this as disgusting finger painting, particularly when I did the writing and artwork on their cars.

As I entered high school, I developed a unique talent for writing my own absence excuses. This writing soon became a profitable after school venture as I created elaborate excuse notes for other students. That is, until the high school principal suggested that I had better limit my writing to school work. His threat to give my Mom and me a signature verification test was reason for me to look for other after school employment opportunities.

Once married, my story writing really came into full bloom. I developed quite a knack for writing memos to creditors explaining that the check was in the mail and occasionally a note to the bank questioning their bookkeeping accuracy for any checks that were returned for insufficient funds.

I was much less successful when I sent the Draft Board a notice to please take my name off of their mailing list. Upon receiving my carefully crafted request, I was invited by Uncle Sam to spend a few years in the military with the U.S. Marine Corps.

Later on, my creative writing was given quite a challenge when our children began to go to school. My book report writing for one of my children did not last long as he complained that the grades that I received were failing. Soon after his grades came out, his teacher sent home a note with my son requesting a conference with both of us. My son refused to go, saying, “Why should I go, Dad? You wrote those dumb reports.”

We deeply regret to report that a dear friend and columnist for this newspaper passed away Jan 9. Wally Hage had just the right combination of humor, life experience and wisdom to be a well-loved community newspaper columnist. Born in Portland Oregon June 30, 1928, he spend 32 years working for AT&T and served in the Marine Corps from 1952- 1954 during the Korean War. Wally was happyily married for 63 years to his wonderful wife who was often the inspiration for many a column. He is survived by his wife, 3 sons, five grandchildren. He was preceded in death by his granddaughter Rachel. The family asks that in lui of flowers tha a doantion be made in Wally’s name to:

The Rachel Ann Hage Neuro-Oncology Fund
Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles
4650 Sunset Blvd. MS #54
Los Angeles, Ca 90027

We would like to publish one more column from Wally’s vast archive. This column we, and his family feel is most appropriate. We will miss you Wally:

“CREATIVE” WRITING
By Wally Hage

My friends and colleagues often ask me how I got started writing…to answer this question, I have to go back to when I was a youngster doing sidewalk writing with chalk. Today, it’s called graffiti. My initial writing looked something like this…WH + PC. Sometimes I would draw a heart around it and an arrow through the letters and it might be titled “True Love.” Carving my initials into the bark of trees was another graffiti-like activity that I frequently pursued. Also putting my handprints and initials into newly poured concrete was a unique and most enjoyable writing style until my neighbor referred the matter and the cost for repair to my Mom. After my Mom took the matter into her own hands, I lost all further interest in continuing my signature-like graffiti activities.

During my early school days, I specialized in the art of temporary tattooing. That is, I was writing on my hands and arms. This type of writing had a lot to do with the grades I received as I progressed from the third grade to the fourth grade. Today it is referred to as crib notes.

As I grew older, I became more diversified in my writing style. I wrote in the dust on the piano in our living room and in the wintertime, our fogged-up windows and mirrors were just too irresistible to pass up leaving a message. This generally triggered a quick reaction from my Mom, causing me to “do time.” In other words, I had to clean the windows and mirrors before I could sit down to dinner, and often it was necessary to stand while eating because it was painful to sit.

The creative signs that I printed on my bedroom door such as “Do not disturb on school days” or “I can not clean my room today as I’m busy” also caused that same part of my body to hurt.

I soon acquired a special artistry for writing on dirty cars. My Dad wasn’t much for washing his car, so I could easily autograph it on the hood and occasionally print a message and draw artwork on the side of his car for the neighbors to read. Some of them referred to this as disgusting finger painting, particularly when I did the writing and artwork on their cars.

As I entered high school, I developed a unique talent for writing my own absence excuses. This writing soon became a profitable after school venture as I created elaborate excuse notes for other students. That is, until the high school principal suggested that I had better limit my writing to school work. His threat to give my Mom and me a signature verification test was reason for me to look for other after school employment opportunities.

Once married, my story writing really came into full bloom. I developed quite a knack for writing memos to creditors explaining that the check was in the mail and occasionally a note to the bank questioning their bookkeeping accuracy for any checks that were returned for insufficient funds.

I was much less successful when I sent the Draft Board a notice to please take my name off of their mailing list. Upon receiving my carefully crafted request, I was invited by Uncle Sam to spend a few years in the military with the U.S. Marine Corps.

Later on, my creative writing was given quite a challenge when our children began to go to school. My book report writing for one of my children did not last long as he complained that the grades that I received were failing. Soon after his grades came out, his teacher sent home a note with my son requesting a conference with both of us. My son refused to go, saying, “Why should I go, Dad? You wrote those dumb reports.”

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