Mr. Walter Duane read an article in the Post and Courier about the need to expand Ronald McDonald House. Our families needed a library, a place for families to spend a few quiet moments reading and relaxing at the end of a long day. This need struck a resonance with Walter, and he dedicated the room full of books to his two sisters, Martha and Genevieve. Both of his sisters loved books, and Walter wanted to honor and remember his sisters with a gift that would help others.

“To whom much is given, much is expected.” Was Walter’s reply when asked about the reason for his generosity to the Ronald McDonald House. Walter explained that he could imagine what it would be like for a mother to be far from home and have a sick child. He could imagine what comfort a moment of quiet solitude with a good book can bring. His imaginings were correct. This room, with shelves lovingly built by a volunteer named Walter Smalls, is a special place in our home. It offers the healing power of reading to those who need it the most.

Walter Duane grew up in the port city of Charleston. His eyes light up as he describes the Ansonborough neighborhood in which he grew up as a community rich in ethnic variety. He loved visiting the German and Italian grocers and bakers, stopping by St. Stephens Methodist Church to hear the visiting Jamaican preacher. Walter recalls how the whole neighborhood would visit each other at Christmas – black, white, Irish Catholic, Southern Baptist and Jewish people came together for fruitcake and punch.  It was a time when everyone helped one another.

Walter’s love of Charleston is apparent when he describes the sights and sounds of his boyhood. He tells of the vendors calling “Shrimp, Shrimpy Shrimp” and “Shark steak. Don’t need no gravy. Shark steak.”  He recalls how the milk man came to the door daily to deliver.

Walter grew up in a time when children made their own entertainment. “People were more frugal,” he says as he recalls how as children, they created their own games. The whole family was musical. His father played violin and his mother played piano. The children sang songs or recited poetry. They read books or listened to the radio.

To this day, Walter Duane maintains the skill of entertaining. His quick wit and profuse knowledge make him an engaging conversationalist. One would guess that Mr. Duane has a doctorate in literature or history, a sort of Professor Henry Higgins. But Walter is a self educated man who was employed by BellSouth, Southern Bell at the time, after serving his country during World War II.

A few moments with Walter, and you realize that this man loves people, and truly appreciates the many differences our heritages and cultures bring. As a Marine, Walter was stationed 90 minutes from Nagasaki, arriving after the destruction of the atom bomb, and assigned to bring peace to a wounded world. He recalls a very special Christmas Mass. The choir was a group of young Japanese girls wearing white dresses and bridal veils. They were led by a choir director in striped pants and top hat. In their high-pitched childish voices, they sang in Latin “Adeste Fideles” with a Japanese accent. Walter was far from home. It was Christmas. No fruitcake and punch in the familiar neighborhood this year. Yet this gesture of friendship from a group of young children touched Walter’s heart. The war was over and the healing had begun.