Tribute to a Garfield alum

Hello everyone,

I had an experience today that gives perspective to our jobs.

Raymond Emil (Mike) Wolohen's funeral was today. Mike was 81 years old, and he died of cancer.

He was a graduate of Garfield High School, class of Winter 1943.

When he was a boy, he lived across the street from the high school, and as an adult he would regale me with stories of how his brother could sleep in until the last possible minute, then jump into his PE clothes, and be on campus before his name was called in roll call. Mike could do the same thing with his shop classes. (I thought that he said that he lived on Fraser Street, which meant that the shop building used to be on the west end of campus. Otherwise he would have had to sprint a couple of blocks to get to where his class was.)

In Mike's school years, Garfield had classes on staggered schedules, and students graduated in both the summer and the winter.

Mike joined the Navy right out of high school, and he was buried with full military honors as a veteran of the Pacific Theater of World War II. He met his wife when he was in Seattle as the war was ending, and they remained married for 61 years.

Mike's family was hard working Irish/Germans. He was short and stout, and he would tell the most outrageous stories with a completely straight face.

He lived among hard working people of a wide variety of backgrounds. They all got along--at least as well as high school students normally get along--and they kept in contact with each other over the years.

His memories are fond of Garfield. He was a prankster, and I suspect he played pranks on both his teachers and his classmates. He never spoke of himself as a particularly distinguished student, and I suspect that may have been true.

But he was a good man--as good as they come.

He used to keep a cup of spare change in his car to give to the homeless. He lived modestly, but he had sufficient wealth to help many people when they needed it. He often did anonymous acts of service in his church and community.

He faced death head on with no apologies or fears. "How are you doing?" I asked him when he was in the hospital just before he died. "Well, I'm dying," he answered. Then he told me a joke and a series of funny stories. "Come and see me again before I go," he said, but he died too quickly for me to see him again.

I tell people, "I want to go like Mike." He died with courage, panache, and humor. He left his family well provided for, though not wealthy. He made all the funeral and death arrangements himself before he died. No one ever met him who didn't love him.

Mike is what our students will be in 60 years or more. At least, I hope so.

Jeff Combe