Paul Edward Zuelke, M.D. Tribute

Oh, Edward.

Whenever I heard my mother address my Dad in this manner I was pretty sure he had done something that especially pleased…or displeased her.

In reflecting on my Dad’s life, I remember so many “Oh, Edward” moments.

My Dad loved bright colors – red plaid pants, bright yellow shirts, loud checks and stripes, wavy prints. The brighter and noisier the better. This was especially true of the golf pants he wore. In fact, many of us honored him today by wearing something red. My Dad often tried to coordinate his own outfits and would come downstairs wearing some outrageous combination of prints and plaids, prompting my mother to exclaim: “Oh, Edward, you can’t wear those together!” My Dad would reply, “Why not, they’re both the same color?”

Luckily he didn’t subject my mother to his taste in clothing when he bought gifts for her. He just headed for the Town Shoppe in Uptown. I’m sure the sales ladies loved to see him coming. Once I remember her opening a gift of a dress he had bought there. It was a very fancy dress with a dark green skirt and beading and crystals on the bodice. She opened it and as she gently lifted the dress from the box she looked at my Dad with such joy and love in her eyes and softly said, “Oh, Edward”.




One time he agreed to pick up pizzas for dinner on his way home from work. When he walked in the door without them we said “Where’s the pizza?” He looked puzzled and slightly confused because he knew he had picked them up from the pizza place and came to realize that he had driven off with them on the top of his car to which my mother crossly said “Oh EDWARD!”
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So many thoughts, memories and words that describe my Dad have been flowing through my head in the last few days. Words like curious, observant, competitive, humble and proud.

My Dad was a reader.
He was curious about everything. He taught us by his example the value of reading. One of my earliest memories of my Dad was going with him to the downtown Portland library on Saturdays to choose our summer reading. At Christmas my Mom did the majority of the shopping for our gifts. But we could always count on the gift of a book from Dad that we knew was selected personally by him.

He read the daily paper from front to back and boy was he upset if his weekly subscription to Time Magazine did not arrive in the mail on its usual day! He was a charter member of Sports Illustrated-an original subscriber from its inception in 1954.




Last week, sharing memories of Dad with my own family, my son Christopher, described him as curious and observant.

Mom and Dad drove Christopher to the airport after our reunion in Bend a couple years ago and had extra time so they stopped for lunch on the way. Chris ordered sushi which completely repelled my mother. But Dad was thoroughly intrigued and watched Christopher eat every bite, asking for detailed descriptions about every ingredient contained in each piece.

Dad was competitive.
Most of you know he was an avid golfer. No where was he more competitive than on the golf course. It never played golf with his sons or sons-in-law without some sort of side game or bet being wagered. A few years ago, my husband Craig and I were visiting Mom and Dad in Palm Springs. Mom and I went shopping and Craig went off to play golf with Dad. Upon our return from the store, Craig greeted me, proudly displaying a partially ripped and beat up one dollar bill like a prized trophy. He gleefully stated he had won it from my Dad in a golf game. I wondered out loud if the bill became torn trying to pry it out of my Dad’s hand. That dollar bill is still in our possession and I am sure always will be.

My Dad was proud…and yet he was humble.
He was not proud of himself or his accomplishments. In fact, he was often perplexed at the praise given to him and the high esteem in which he was held by his friends, patients, hospital staff, colleagues and the larger community.

But he was most proud of his children. He told me this often, especially in his later years. He was so proud it brought tears to his eyes. Curiously, he took no credit for what we became. He gave that recognition totally to our mom, Inarose. He was so wrong. While it’s true that Mom was our primary caregiver, nurturer and authority in our lives, Dad sprinkled us with his influence in many subtle ways. He showed us by example how to live an honorable, Christian life.

I live in Minnesota and didn’t get the chance to spend a lot of time with Dad over the years. However, during the last 6 months of his life, I was blessed to be able to have many truly memorable visits with him. The most special of these, and I think my brothers and sisters would agree, were the weeks we spent individually as care givers for him. What a rare gift to be able to have quality one-on-one time in conversation with him. He didn’t know it, but it was the best gift he ever gave me.

I wasn’t with my Dad when he died. I last saw him 2 weeks ago. As I left to go back to Minnesota, he told me how much he loved me. His last words to me were, “I really miss you Diane”.

Oh Edward, now it is we who really miss you.