Tribute to Wayne Wittman, written by Mary McNellis
Thursday, February 25, 2016: Last night I got a phone call informing me Wayne Wittman was in the hospital, unresponsive. It was serious; the family requested no visitors. This morning the other shoe dropped; Wayne didn’t survive the night. He’d had a heart attack while riding the MTC bus home from a union gathering. He was rushed to the hospital but never regained consciousness. That’s the extent of my knowledge at this point in time; more details will come, but not in time for publication in this newsletter.
Much more will be written, but I would like to share my initial feelings of sadness at losing a friend, a mentor, a role model, a comrade in the peace movement. I am relatively new to VFP. Wayne, on the other hand has been involved since 1987. He was elected to the National VFP Board for three terms and served in numerous capacities and offices in the local chapter, most currently as treasurer.
As I gradually worked my way into the inner circle of the chapter I began having more interactions with Wayne. We were both active in the Minnesota Alliance of Peacemakers. The last time I saw Wayne I was seated next to him at the February 6th MAP retreat. He mentioned he had to leave early to attend another civic function; he quietly slipped out of the room before I had a chance to say good-bye.
We collaborated for three years on the SOAW Fort Benning VFP bus trip. This past Monday he phoned me to proudly report that an outstanding debt from the trip was finally getting paid and he could relax. It was the last time we spoke.
We collaborated on updating our VFP mailing list, a source of constant frustration to both of us. Today in the mail I received an envelope with address updates, the last letter from him I will receive.
I always appreciated Wayne, but as they say, you never know when the last time you will see someone will be the last. Although I didn’t get to say good-bye, I trust Wayne knew how much I loved and respected him.
I describe Wayne as a gentle Lion. He was brave enough to tackle anything, never backed down from a challenge. Mostly quiet - until he got angry - which was rare. He would quietly make his point, but then shut up, not one to argue an issue to death. He exemplified cooperation and collaboration; willing to go with majority rule, “go along to get along” as long as it didn’t betray his values. Not a mean bone in his body, his gentle humor went a long way in calming any situation. He was a model of grace and good manners, unfailingly polite, dignified and humble. Other words that describe him: amazing, inspiring, energetic and passionate.
We had developed an easy relationship. When we met he always appreciated getting a kiss (being one of the few women in the group a privilege I uniquely enjoyed). After he gave up driving my husband and I always made sure he got a ride home from meetings. During those rides I learned a little about his life as a boy, experiences we had in common. He lost his father at a young age and had to take on tremendous responsibility. He developed compassion for the poor because he had been there. He’d spent three and a half years in a VA hospital with tuberculosis and therefore had tremendous compassion for his clients when he worked as a rehabilitation counselor.
Wayne served as a medic in the Navy from 1948-51 including duty off the coast of Korea during the Korean War. Although he had planned to make a career of the Navy, he received a medical discharge when he contracted tuberculosis. Wayne was proud of his military service, but in 1967 realized our government was lying and became critical of our country’s actions in Vietnam, felt “we were intervening in another country’s political situation.” At that point he “came out of the closet” – his words, and joined the peace movement. He describes it as a turning point in his life. Born on September 11, another of his pet causes was exposing the lies we’ve been told about 9/11 and other false flag events.
I remember at our 2014 Lake Superior retreat being regaled by his many tales of travel to SOAW, the people he’d met, his many adventures while traveling. Both mornings when I got up, Wayne was sitting quietly in the corner doing his daily Bible and spiritual readings. After his family, the love of his life was his church. He was very proud of being a deacon. I typically sat next to him at VFP meetings; his eyes closed, he often appeared to be snoozing. I’m not convinced he wasn’t actually meditating. He was pro-life in the best sense, advocating for all life, not just the unborn. Although a deeply religious man, you wouldn’t know it by talking with him. He was far too respectful to impose his religious beliefs on anyone. In short, he walked the talk.
In addition to VFP, Wayne was active in the Labor movement since 1958 in various capacities. MN AFL-CIO President, Shar Knutson, referring to Wayne’s track record of union volunteerism and leadership, called him the “conscience of the labor movement” in the Twin Cities.
My husband, Steve, says Wayne made him proud to be involved with peace and social justice, “he put a good face on it, made it seem so noble.” Because of Wayne’s involvement with unions Steve even has a better opinion of unions. “He was always kind to everyone. No hazing with Wayne. If you’re involved, he’s with you. If you’re not, he would listen to you explain. If there was any judgment he didn’t show it.”
One of Wayne’s favorite sayings was to “encourage people to do as much as possible, but praise and thank them if all they do is wear a VFP hat in public.” Wayne wore his faded VFP hat everywhere. And did so much more. To say he will be greatly missed is a huge understatement.
As I gradually worked my way into the inner circle of the chapter I began having more interactions with Wayne. We were both active in the Minnesota Alliance of Peacemakers. The last time I saw Wayne I was seated next to him at the February 6th MAP retreat. He mentioned he had to leave early to attend another civic function; he quietly slipped out of the room before I had a chance to say good-bye.
We collaborated for three years on the SOAW Fort Benning VFP bus trip. This past Monday he phoned me to proudly report that an outstanding debt from the trip was finally getting paid and he could relax. It was the last time we spoke.
We collaborated on updating our VFP mailing list, a source of constant frustration to both of us. Today in the mail I received an envelope with address updates, the last letter from him I will receive.
I always appreciated Wayne, but as they say, you never know when the last time you will see someone will be the last. Although I didn’t get to say good-bye, I trust Wayne knew how much I loved and respected him.
I describe Wayne as a gentle Lion. He was brave enough to tackle anything, never backed down from a challenge. Mostly quiet - until he got angry - which was rare. He would quietly make his point, but then shut up, not one to argue an issue to death. He exemplified cooperation and collaboration; willing to go with majority rule, “go along to get along” as long as it didn’t betray his values. Not a mean bone in his body, his gentle humor went a long way in calming any situation. He was a model of grace and good manners, unfailingly polite, dignified and humble. Other words that describe him: amazing, inspiring, energetic and passionate.
We had developed an easy relationship. When we met he always appreciated getting a kiss (being one of the few women in the group a privilege I uniquely enjoyed). After he gave up driving my husband and I always made sure he got a ride home from meetings. During those rides I learned a little about his life as a boy, experiences we had in common. He lost his father at a young age and had to take on tremendous responsibility. He developed compassion for the poor because he had been there. He’d spent three and a half years in a VA hospital with tuberculosis and therefore had tremendous compassion for his clients when he worked as a rehabilitation counselor.
Wayne served as a medic in the Navy from 1948-51 including duty off the coast of Korea during the Korean War. Although he had planned to make a career of the Navy, he received a medical discharge when he contracted tuberculosis. Wayne was proud of his military service, but in 1967 realized our government was lying and became critical of our country’s actions in Vietnam, felt “we were intervening in another country’s political situation.” At that point he “came out of the closet” – his words, and joined the peace movement. He describes it as a turning point in his life. Born on September 11, another of his pet causes was exposing the lies we’ve been told about 9/11 and other false flag events.
I remember at our 2014 Lake Superior retreat being regaled by his many tales of travel to SOAW, the people he’d met, his many adventures while traveling. Both mornings when I got up, Wayne was sitting quietly in the corner doing his daily Bible and spiritual readings. After his family, the love of his life was his church. He was very proud of being a deacon. I typically sat next to him at VFP meetings; his eyes closed, he often appeared to be snoozing. I’m not convinced he wasn’t actually meditating. He was pro-life in the best sense, advocating for all life, not just the unborn. Although a deeply religious man, you wouldn’t know it by talking with him. He was far too respectful to impose his religious beliefs on anyone. In short, he walked the talk.
In addition to VFP, Wayne was active in the Labor movement since 1958 in various capacities. MN AFL-CIO President, Shar Knutson, referring to Wayne’s track record of union volunteerism and leadership, called him the “conscience of the labor movement” in the Twin Cities.
My husband, Steve, says Wayne made him proud to be involved with peace and social justice, “he put a good face on it, made it seem so noble.” Because of Wayne’s involvement with unions Steve even has a better opinion of unions. “He was always kind to everyone. No hazing with Wayne. If you’re involved, he’s with you. If you’re not, he would listen to you explain. If there was any judgment he didn’t show it.”
One of Wayne’s favorite sayings was to “encourage people to do as much as possible, but praise and thank them if all they do is wear a VFP hat in public.” Wayne wore his faded VFP hat everywhere. And did so much more. To say he will be greatly missed is a huge understatement.