Conrad Edmund Hoffmann

Conrad Edmund Hoffmann at 13 days with his dad.

Dr. Conrad Edmund Hoffmann, scientist, sportsman, and loving family man, died at 90 years old on Sunday, December 19, 2010. He was born on April 15, 1920 in Lawrence, Kansas. He spend his early years in Geneva, Switzerland, where his father worked with various refugee relief agencies, including The League of Nations. Ed, as he was known to his friends, returned with his family to Blauvelt, NY, in the early 1930s and graduated from Northfield Mt. Hermon School in Massachusetts. He graduated from Cornell University (BSc ‘42, MS ’43), where he met his future wife, Margaret Daniels of Trenton, NJ, while dissecting an oyster in a biology lab. They were married on December 20, 1942, and honey-mooned in the Adirondacks during one of the coldest winters in history.

C.E. Hoffmann

Hoffmann served as a Naval officer during World War II. He was stationed at Ft. Detrick, MD where he worked in Chemical Warfare research, and later at the naval hospital in Pensacola, FL. After the service, he accepted a position with the Owens Illinois (O-I) glass company researching vitamin growth in glass containers. He later worked with Lederle Pharmaceuticals  in research investigating vitamin-related assays. Deciding he needed more high level training, he returned to graduate school at Case Western Reserve University in Clevelend, where he earned his PHD in Microbiology (‘51).

Dr. Hoffmann accepted a position with the  duPont Company in Wilmington, DE and remained with the company until his retirement in the mid-1980s. Over the years, Ed worked and held positions of authority for various departments within duPont, including Microbiology, Endo Laboratories (pharmaceuticals) and Stine Lab.  He helped guide the pioneering work on Symmetrel (Amantadine) and other anti-viral drugs during the 1960s and 1970s. He frequently contributed to professional journals and was considered an expert in the field of drugs used to combat flu viruses.

Ed loved the outdoors, a passion that he shared with Peg, his wife of almost 67 years. He was an avid fisherman, hunter, hiker, and sailor. His other hobbies and interests included bird carving, photography, and dogs. He was especially fond of waterfowl hunting and water dogs. Hoffmann volunteered with many non-profit organizations, including the Iron Hill Museum, the Delaware Nature Society, and the Northeast Power Squadron. Having grown up in Geneva, he spoke English, German, and French. He and Peg loved to travel and spent much of their retirement seeing the world together.

Fishing out west with John

Ed is survived by his wife, Peg, his children, Margaret Hoffmann Reichard (David), Francis Hoffmann, John R. Hoffmann (Suzy),  six (6) grandchildren, and nine(9) great-grandchildren, and his parakeet Jenny.

Jenny

OBIT

It is an honor and privilege to see people come into our world or depart it. I feel blessed to have witnessed both in my life.

Robert O. Halstead

Noted wildlife conservationist Robert O. Halstead died on Monday, October 25, at his home in Virginia Beach.  Halstead was born in Munden, Virginia, in 1921. He grew up hunting, trapping, boating, and fishing on Back Bay and Currituck Sound.  Halstead served in the U.S. Navy, 1945-1946, and from 1947 to 1948, was a Virginia state game warden. In 1949, he began a distinguished law enforcement career with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. For more than 30 years, Halstead was involved in virtually every aspect of wildlife management and conservation law. He was a strong advocate of Federal and state programs to promote gun and boat safety, acquire critical wildlife habitat, and expand public opportunities for hunting and fishing. Halstead frequently educated government officials and members of Congress about these issues during hunting and fishing trips. In 1970, Halstead was awarded one of American Motors Conservationist of the Year Awards for developing and implementing programs teaching young people about wildlife.

Halstead loved to hunt ducks and geese, with shotgun and camera. He said he had been born at just the right time, to help enforce the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918, which outlawed market hunting and laid the foundation for U.S. waterfowl sport shooting. As Federal Agent-in-Charge for North Carolina, he developed special expertise in waterfowl management.  His responsibilities included bird banding and population surveys, and advising Washington on policy development, as well as law enforcement. Halstead specialized in undercover investigations to break up illegal commercial hunting for ducks up and down the Atlantic Flyway.

In the 1970s, as a special undercover agent, operating nationally out of a fake business in Delaware, he deployed similar techniques to enforce the Endangered Species Act. He was well-known among his peers for actions against the illegal trade in eagle feathers and sea turtle jewelry, and for a landmark case against illegal trophy hunting for desert bighorn sheep. After retirement, Halstead was revealed nationally as the “Undercover Wildlife Agent,” based on James Phillips’ 1981 book by that title, about his major investigations in Alaska, California, Louisiana, and other states.

For most of the past three decades, Halstead was resident manager of The Flyway on Knots Island, North Carolina, a private hunting lodge owned by his long-time friends, former Congressman Ogden R. (“Brownie”) Reid, and his wife Mary Louise Reid, of New York. He was active in the Back Bay Restoration Foundation, an organization dedicated to improving water quality and wetlands.  He was President of the North Carolina Salt Water Sport Fishing Association in the 1960s, and a member of Ducks Unlimited. He was a member of the Masonic Orr Lodge 104 of Washington, N.C. for half a century.

Halstead was a kind and generous man, beloved by family members and many special friends. He once said he learned the art of hospitality from his mother and the art of politics from his father. His door was always open to neighbors, hunting and fishing enthusiasts, conservationists, local community leaders, and elected officials. He was “Uncle Robert” to 20 nieces and nephews. He loved, and was loved by, his many dogs, including Brownie, Peppie, Rip, Bessie, and Mike, but especially Mim, a black lab he owned for 20 years.

He was preceded in death by his mother, Malinda West Halstead; his father, Roland O. Halstead; his siblings, Mildred H. Johnson, W. Ray Halstead, Hattie Halstead, Helen H. Chessman, Otto V. Halstead, Rowland O. (Sonny) Halstead, Mary H. Lindsey, and Betty Mae Halstead.

He is survived by his sisters, Rosa H. Grimstead, and Florence H. Weidman; his children, Barbara (Walter) Humphries, Suzanne (John) Hoffman, and Robert J. (Margaret) Halstead; by 6 grandchildren, 6 great-grandchildren, and 2 great-great-grandchildren; and by Gus, his last dog.

End Game

Bob sure loves this girl!

Yes, when the going gets tough, the tough go fishing. Florence lands a small but feisty fish using her high tech cane pole. An hour in the sun fishing with cousin Teddy is VERY therapeutic.

Day 12 and 13 - People come and go. Relatives from near and far stop by. Dad continues to deteriorate. He smiles when we do something for him but he now slips in and out with the morphine. When the hospice nurse, Holly, evaluates him Friday morning, we up the level of his medication significantly. I learn how to alter the does to minimize the pain and watch for signs of  the next step. She shows me how to administer other drugs for end-of-life issues too. It is all I can do to focus on what she is telling me.

Tristan gets in about dinner time Friday. I tell him not to expect too much. Dad recognizes him immediately and is all smiles. He loves having Tristan visit and they spend 30 minutes together. I slip out to have dinner with Tristan. I am so thankful for his company.

Back at the house for night duty. Getting up every few hours to administer the drugs now to help dad stay comfortable. Gus tries to get on the sofa with me. I don't blame him but there is just not enough room for me and 140 pounds of dog on the same sofa.


Day 14 - Florence slips out at 7 AM to spend the morning with her sister, Rosa. I am thrilled she is taking some time for herself. Dad wakes at 8 AM. We both come to realize he is no longer able to lift his legs. No problem, I'll help him.  I lift his legs and  he screams in pain. Back to recalculate the amount of pain killer. He is having trouble speaking. Late afternoon he loses the ability to swallow any food.

Call to Holly the nurse for advice. She sends out nurse on call, Nicole. John arrives. I am never so happy to see him. Florence is happy for reinforcements too. We all quietly wait for the nurse to arrive.

After evaluation by Nicole, we all agree dad has entered the final stage, "actively dying". Everything about it is grim. Dad is now "dead weight" and even changing him is requires two people.

I feel guilty but John and I go out for dinner so I can escape the house for a few hours. Back in time for the all night shift.

Day 15 - Dad is breathing but no longer responsive. No smile, no hand squeeze. I continue to administer the pain killer so he is comfortable. No food or drink.

John comes by but shortly leaves to go back home. My heart sinks.

Nicole the nurse is back. Dad's vitals are worse as he continues the slide down. He can no longer control his own body temperature. My niece, who is visiting, helps administer medication with the Nicole since it takes two people. She returns before bedtime and I assist her. I am very thankful for Beth's help.

I love him so much. I pray for mercy.

Running On Empty

Dad takes Suzy (2.5 years old) to work.
We inspect an evidence storage facility.

Bob is proud that in 35 years of law enforcement work, he never had to discharge his gun in the line of duty. He was always able to talk people down in potentially violent situations or keep his cool during stressful undercover operations.  In 1981, author James Phillips highlighted some of dad's exploits in a book entitled, Undercover Wildlife Agent: The casebook of federal conservation officer Robert O. Halstead. Other stories about dad have appeared in magazines like Outdoor Life and Virginia Wildlife.

Day 8 - Dad is in pain now. Stepped up medication helps but means really monitoring his daily ration of pills more carefully. His whole system just seems to be slowing down. Bobby, Florence and I tag team him during the day and night. A friend brings dad some beautiful fish and we make it for him. He eats a small amount and enjoys a piece of Walter's pumpkin pie. Total intake for the day - about 4 ozs. of solid food.

Day 9 - Dad has no interest in eating breakfast. This is a new wrinkle. He is pleasant to his aide but really does not want to be bothered. The hospice nurse tries to draw blood for a test but blows out every vain she touches - she is almost in tears. We all decided not to worry about the blood tests for today. Up and down several times, even with sleeping medication. Can be very funny or very aggravated.

We walk on eggs in the house. Noise is very upsetting and it is a small house. Dog is worried and staying close by, often blocking our way in and out of the room. We all learn to just step over Gus, even the hospice staff.

People continue to drop in and out but for short periods of time. Dad's attention span is short. He tells us he does not want to see anyone but he always perks up and wants to be charming for guests.

I am overwhelmed by kindness of all my friends and colleagues. I will never be able to thank them enough for their support. Many I see every work day and some I haven't heard from in years. Chip, Loren, Dave, John, and Amanda have made it possible for me focus on dad. I will forever be grateful. To all my church friends, thank you for your prayers - please keep them coming.

Day 10 - Dad startles us by sitting up right in bed at 5:30 A.M. He is disoriented and does not feel good. A pain killer and applesauce get him back to bed. By 7:30, he is having so much trouble swallowing, he cannot take his ground up medications in applesauce. Hospice nurse comes and checks him out. Instructs us to give him whatever he asks for. I learn to administer liquid morphine for the pain., something I hoped I'd never have to do. John, Eric, and Tristan, I love you all.

resident copperhead snake

This morning snakes sunned themselves. Florence and I are walkers. She usually goes first in the morning and I go when she returns. Today we were careful where we stepped. The snakes are not here for long now and neither is dad.

We Stay the Course

This is the last fig of the season and Florence eats it with great delight. Bob loves his trees in the side yard. The deer think they are candy.

Day 5 - Dad's world is shrinking. He does not want to come out of his bedroom now. Today I was able to get him up in the wheelchair for a few hours but he would not go into the living room. Every morning I read him news articles from the paper but otherwise he shows little interest  in world events. He can take or leave TV, even football.  This is so unlike him. He was always so keen on political news, weather, and sports. It’s breaking my heart.

He helps me by transferring and lifting himself up off the bed when a change is needed. He worries I will hurt myself handling him. Except for when he is in pain, he is a doll.  Wash his hair, trim his nails, and he is so appreciative. He was always immaculate in his personal appearance. 

Florence is great chatting him up and reminiscing about family events. They talk about their cancers. She is a real comfort to him. I am so thankful for her.

Day 6 - People are so kind. Visitors come anytime. They usually bring something good to eat. If I had an appetite I’d be three hundred pounds. Aside from a multitude of family members, many people from the community are coming too. Lawyers, businessmen, and conservationists all, make the effort to pay their respects.  He is holding court. I am overwhelmed by their kind words and offers of support.  After everyone leaves, dad says, "They all think I am going to die soon. I am going to fool them." Go dad.

Our hospice home care worker is fantastic. We call her "Melvie." She loves her work and is so good with dad. He adores her. Friday she leaves me with "spend as much time with him as you can" and hugs me before leaving.


He has fluid in his lungs and is gurgling a bit. Hospice nurse puts him on RX to help drain fluids. He is very tired by evening but restless.


Day 7- Dad is good this morning but having discomfort eating and swallowing. Nurse thinks his cancer may be expanding internally, as well as protruding outwardly. 


He has discovered I will feed him anything he wants. Strawberry ice cream for lunch. Red Jello is excellent. Rice pudding is great too. 

Sleeping at night is hard for both of us. We do the best we can but we are grinding down.

We March On

Bob grew up loving the outdoors and all it had to offer. After serving in the Navy, he became a Virginia Game Warden in 1947. On February 1, 1949, Bob was sworn in as a member of the U.S. Bureau of Sport Fisheries and Wildlife. During his career, he worked in Alaska, California, Mexico, and Washington, D.C. as an undercover agent, served as Agent-in-Charge for North Carolina and Delaware, as well as various supervisory and training positions throughout the United States.

So how many people can say they had Special Agent 33 as their father? Summer vacations were often adventures in duck banding, fishing forays, or scouting trips for upcoming hunting sting operations. We learned to be very observant, resourceful, close ranks when necessary, and "debrief" at the end of the day. It all seemed so normal at the time.

Day 3  - Good news, bad news. Aunt Florence visited dad and he really responded to her. She was always held favorite aunt status at our house. For years dad has tried to persuade her to come live with  him to no avail until now. She leaves to get some things and promises to return. I am so happy - this is a win, win situation. Dad is perky and eats more than in the last few days. Walter and Barbara continue to bring on the good food. Things go well until 1:30 A.M. I awake to shouting and pounding on the wall. I think someone may be trying to break into the house but no dog alarm from Gus. Once I ascertain it is dad scared and disorientated, I start to regain my composure. I get him a sleeping pill and read in his room for an hour until he falls back asleep. Note to self: remove loaded gun from dad's night stand.

Day 4- I am exhausted. Dad is exhausted. Dad does not get out of bed today. Little appetite, no energy, and sleeps off and on all day. I continue to chip away at tasks that must be done. Often on the phone, wait and hold, wait and hold. Lisa and Karen provide distraction and support. I am very grateful.

At dawn and dusk, I look for a flock of a dozen white egrets flying low over the house on their way to and from the marsh. Somehow, they help start and end my day.

Bringing Dad Home

Lucky Man

Having come to the realization that dad is not going improve in rehab, arrangements are made to take him home with hospice. Thanks to the help and support of Dr. Parks and her office, paperwork is completed  to spring dad from rehab. While the facility was good and people visited everyday, dad's depression and lackluster attitude deepened. Despite Barbara and Walter's valiant efforts, radiation treatments seem less important than going home. Arranging transport home by stretcher proves challenging last minute.

Getting a ramp on the house suddenly becomes a necessity. While you can pay people, sometimes you cannot thank them enough.  Teddy and Danny are incredible. The ambulance crew loves the ramp. How special for dad that family members, other than his children, are willing to put themselves out so he can come home! You guys are the best. Karen has been instrumental in helping dad maintain his lifestyle and helping me keep my sanity. Chris and Richard, thanks for visiting dad in the hospital - he was always looking for you. I will be forever grateful to all of you.

Dad is exhausted by the trip but all smiles. His dog puts his head on dad's shoulder as he reclines in his chair.I worry he may not wake up. John shows up and I am happy for the support and help as we sort things out.

Day 1 - Dad is so happy to be home. For the first time in days, he eats something solid at dinner time. His spirits soar as his sister Florence comes to visit. There is no way he can be left alone in the house for any amount of time. He can help transfer himself but that's all. This is a tremendous change since his fall. I am encouraged to have him home but tired from the amount of care. 3 ozs. of yogurt and a small dinner are not going to sustain him.Only mild waves of panic and despair wash over me as I watch John drive off. Walter cheerfully comes by in the evening and helps get dad to bed - very grateful for the support.

Day 2 - Dad wakes up and tells me he "feels funny". My hear sinks and quickly give him the short list of questions for stroke.He passes them but is not his usual self. More worrisome news. The cancer on his chest is bigger and now starting to weep. Radiologist agrees stopping treatments is the right thing to do and is worried about infection. Holly (the hospice nurse) determines dad's vitals are good and shows me how to clean and bandage the area. Long talk with Holly about stroke options and coming to grips with the decisions I will have to make. Nothing like a jolt of reality to intensify your existence. Looking at this cancer growing and protruding from his chest, I know she is right. I am so thankful for the love and support of my family. I know how traumatic this is for my brother and my heart goes out to him.  John, Eric, and Tristan, I love you all. Tomorrow we tackle trying to set up coverage for dad to supplement hospice services.In the meantime, I watch the sunset and listen to the wind sweep off the water.