Edward W. Schunk

His Turn to Wait

"He would be walking this John Wayne walk," she said. "He was the best-looking man getting off that train, because he would just glow."

On her way to work each morning, Lisa Schunk would drop off her husband, Edward W. Schunk, at the Baldwin, N.Y., train station in time for the 6:20 to Manhattan. Her car would be there each night as well, waiting as the 6:05 pulled in. Though life was hectic at Cantor Fitzgerald, where her husband worked as a broker, he stepped off the train as if his day were just beginning.

"He would be walking this John Wayne walk," she said. "He was the best-looking man getting off that train, because he would just glow."

Mrs. Schunk spent many of the hours in between preparing meals as a corporate chef. Yet she was still delighted to serve up her husband's favorite Italian dinner by candlelight when they got home. Dessert was typically chocolate pudding or cookie- dough ice cream. "He'd always get three scoops, and I'd say, `get one-and-a-half,' " she recalled — not that he listened.

They had no children, but at 54, he was often the only adult using the slide at his country club's pool, and he played Santa for his eight nieces at Christmas. No pillow was necessary, thanks to all that ice cream.

His wife says that he must be in heaven. "I know he's waiting for me until we meet again," she said.