More laughs than tears mark memorial service for physician.

Byline: The Register-Guard

MOLALLA - One thing everyone agreed on Saturday afternoon was that Dr. Allison Willeford - better known to the crowd of 300 or so who gathered at St. James Catholic Church as Doc, or A.B., or Al - would have relished his own memorial service.

In fact, he did enjoy part of it. He viewed a computerized slide show of his life put together by his sons - Kenneth, Vincent, Thomas and Gregory - as they sat by his bedside during his final days of a yearlong decline from kidney cancer.

"Gee, Dad, it's too bad you won't be here for the big show," Greg quipped as they looked at the pictures together.

"Yeah," their 79-year-old father agreed. "But I want you all to have fun."

As if to honor his wish, laughter far outbalanced tears as the crowd honored Willeford's 40-year, nonstop commitment to his patients as a small-town doctor in the town of about 5,000, about 25 miles northeast of Salem.

In homage to Willeford, whose ubiquitous bow ties and ever-present pipe pervade the memories of many of his former patients, all four of his sons sported black bow ties at the service. Their sister, Nancy, donned a red one.

Jeff Leighty, one of thousands of babies Willeford delivered, served as master of ceremonies.

"My sister, Becky, was the first baby Doc ever delivered," Leighty said. "And I can say he was the first person I ever met."

He asked how many people in the room had been Willeford's patients through the years, and well over half raised their hands. Many then took turns at the microphone sharing memories, sometimes poignant, often hilarious.

"I had a lot to thank Dr. Willeford for," said Dr. Frank James, who began his career in Willeford's downtown Molalla clinic and still practices there.

"He welcomed me to Molalla and invited me to practice with him. Little did I know what I was in for - or I might not have come," James said. "A.B. wanted me to get off on the right foot, so on my first day of work he immediately left for a two-week vacation."

The two later spent some leisure time together, indulging in some of Willeford's favorite hobbies, occasionally to James' chagrin.

"First he flew us to Astoria in a small plane - and I tend to get airsick," James said wryly. "Then we went out on the fishing boat - and I tend to get seasick."

Tim McNeil, a friend of Willeford's son, Tom, offered a story about the doctor's pipe-smoking habit, a comforting practice to his regular patients but clearly alarming to at least one newcomer.

"I was never Dr. Willeford's patient, but I had a relative once who needed a physical exam before going away to college, and her own doctor wasn't available so she made an appointment with Dr. Willeford," McNeil recounted.

Everything went well until it came time for the gynecological part of the physical, he said. "She was lying there on the table, draped and everything - everything seemed routine - and then she looked down toward the end of the table and saw all this smoke coming up," he said, to thunderous laughter.

Molalla resident Dan Lefever remembers a mischievous episode in his childhood when he hid near his home with a batch of homemade wine, overimbibed and passed out in a ditch on the way home.

"They thought I was dead - they called Doc Willeford, and he came over to see what was the matter. It didn't take him more than a minute to figure it out. 'Dang it,' he told Lefever's parents, 'he's just drunk.' '

Some spoke of the sacrifices made by small-town doctors - and their families - as they put their patients' lives first, their own second.

"The hours they put in, the sacrifices they made, the public really owes them and their families a lot," said Bill Blackburn, a Molalla resident since 1945. "God bless 'em, they did it for all of us."

Leighty seconded Blackburn's sentiments.

"I would like to thank the doctor's family, for the birthdays, holidays and school events he missed with you so he could be there for all of us," he said. "From the bottom of our hearts - Ken, Vince, Tom, Greg and Nancy, we thank you."

Darrell Walker, a 50-year friend of Willeford's, put his feelings simply, his voice filled with emotion.

"In your whole lifetime, if you have even two or three good friends, you're lucky," Walker said. "In my life, I consider (Willeford) that friend."

- Randi Bjornstad

THE LAW

The state's Death with Dignity law sets out requirements for those seeking a legally prescribed, lethal dose of medication to end their lives:

Qualification: An Oregon resident 18 years or older, medically confirmed by two physicians to have a terminal illness likely to end in death within six months

Residency: Proof such as an Oregon driver's license, voter registration, ownership of property or filing of state income tax return for most recent tax year

Diagnosis: Confirmation by "attending physician," with concurring second opinion from a "consulting physician"

Informed decision: Patient understanding of diagnosis and prognosis; risks and result of taking prescribed medicine; alternatives for end-of-life care

Prescription: Requires oral request to attending physician, followed by second oral request no less than 15 days later; written request also required, witnessed by two people at least 48 hours before doctor issues prescription

Safeguards: Referral for counseling mandated if physician suspects psychiatric or psychological condition that could impair judgment

Notification of next-of-kin: Recommended but not required

- Oregon Revised Statutes/Oregon Department of Human Services

CAPTION(S):

Tom Willeford is consoled by friends after the memorial service at St. James Catholic Church on Saturday in Molalla, northeast of Salem. "The hours they put in, the sacrifices they made, the public really owes them and their families a lot," said , a Molalla resident