Richard Wagner

Richard Joseph Wagner

March 24, 1934 - June 7, 2024

Richard J. Wagner was born and raised in Chicago. The area around Anderson Park was his stomping ground whereas a boy the bond with his brothers and neighborhood was his whole world. At 17, he valiantly traded the scenery of the streets of Chicago for the cold, rugged mountains and fields of Korea where he battled with sedulous determination for the values of freedom and democracy. He attained the rank of Sergeant and continued to lead his brethren through enemy fire. He fought hard and bravely until, while entrenched in battle, a barrage of bullets found its path toward Richard—war is hell; and if you ever had the experience of serving in one, you are well aware that even the best can fall. Richard was gravely wounded and, while praying for his life in frigid snow, he waited to be pulled from the front. He barely survived.

Richard spent over two years in Japan mending his wounds, relearning to walk, and one step at a time, he started to rebuild his life. Soon after reuniting with the Windy City, he met Rosalie Grisaffi, who would become the love of his life, and to whom he was married for 66 years. He spent days working and nights attending classes. He landed a position at Teletype Corporation, and they began building a family. He saved ferociously and, with the help of his beloved Aunt Bea and Uncle Tuffy, he bought their first home on Marmora Ave.

Although he loved his brothers and his Chicago teams (the Cubs and the Bears, of course), he yearned for quiet and space for as long as the eye can see. After his third child was born, he and Rose decided this yearning couldn't be quelled and he made the hard decision to move to the suburbs, where a home with more land would suit him just fine—thank you very much! As a proud, native Chicagoan this was no easy decision. Chicago truly was "his kind of town".

He found a bucket full of peace out there in the suburbs where life was slower. But he found that his ties to Chicago were tattooed into his being and Chicago kept "tuggin' his sleeve". So, on the weekend, he packed up his family and headed to the "old neighborhood" in the city. The familiar stops were the old Polish and Italian bakeries, the best pizza parlors, and of course the sofas and kitchens of his kin.

In the suburbs he was an avid gardener—his tomatoes were prized and often transformed into homemade spaghetti sauces—and his neighbors could not help but covet his roses. One could say, like his garden and roses, he also was a being who had to be nourished by sun and fresh air. He could always be found in the yard soaking up summer sunshine.

As his children grew up and moved west, he soon followed—trading his beloved city with its harsh winters and rough wind for sunshine. He landed in Mesa Arizona where he lived the rest of his life amongst several of his grandchildren, abundant orange trees, his favorite saguaros, and a calm, glistening pool.

Perhaps because of what he saw in war, he was suspicious of every year he held on to earth. When he was far from those early precarious days of growing up fast while trekking over glistening mountains with artillery pounding through air, he was surprised, in the end, by the grand gift of the long life he was granted; and this is the philosophy he passed down to his children: whoever you are, or whoever you become, do not forget your roots and be sure to pass on every good thing that resides in your being to your children. Approaching the tail end of this long life he humbly stressed that family is everything and forgiveness, as hard as it can be at times, should be awarded to all. Forgiveness is a virtue, which can be beautiful when one experiences it, but it requires lifelong work; and for Richard, a man who grew up on the tough Chicago streets and held tight to helmet and rifle while marching along foreign cliffs, he earned this virtue.

Richard died in his home surrounded by his wife and children. The gift of his passing is that he will finally be granted peace and be reunited with his eldest daughter again.

Richard is survived by his wife, Rose nee Grisaffi; surviving children Jeff Wagner, Tracy Putnam; grandchildren Nicole Woodhouse, Liam Putnam, Tiana Turner, and Avery & Caden Wagner; and great grandchildren Emily & Spiro Vlahopoulos.

U.S. MILITARY AWARDS

Bronze Star Medal

Purple Heart

Navy Presidential Unit Citation

Combat Action Ribbon

Marine Corps Good Conduct Medal

National Defense Service Medal

Korean Service Medal

Korean Presidential Unit Citation

United Nations Service Medal-Korea

Korean War Service Medal

Combat Action Ribbon

Donations can be made to any of the following two organizations:

1. Hospice of the Valley ( hov.org )

2. Wounded Warriors Project ( www.woundedwarriorproject.org ).

“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver:

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.



Funeral Service will be held Saturday, June 29, at 11:00 a.m. at St. Joseph Cemetery in River Grove.  Family and friends are invited to meet in the cemetery chapel.