When you meet Vic’s son, John, it doesn’t take very long for you to learn about his Dad, Vic. When John and I met in college, his Dad had just recently come to visit him in Washington, DC. John shared that Vic stayed on a futon in the basement of the college crash pad where John was living. Vic didn’t want to miss a moment of the action with John and his buddies, scheming up entrepreneurial ideas and generally enjoying themselves as college seniors do. John told me about the dinners he’d arranged for Vic to meet another influential man in his life, a mentor and a friend who along with Victor have shaped Johns passion for Real Estate. I thought, hmm, so, you guys are pretty close, huh? And close doesn’t even begin to describe it. I’ve thought a lot about Vic, as I’m sure everyone visiting this tribute website has, over the last two weeks. There are memories from my first visit with Vic, like how he brought out the Mr. Carson High video recording where John and his friends strutted their stuff in front of their high school peers to be crowned “Mr. Carson High”. I honestly don’t remember what John’s talent was but this is how I came to learn of another close family friend Andrew Araza who has the jump roping abilities of a Rocky Balboa. Johns friends and relations were also Vic’s. He cared for them as his own children and also considered them friends. I learned that Andrew accompanied John and Vic to Mexico for Spanish language school one summer where Vic coined the expression “MEGA!!!” which is, by the way, absolutely what you say when you hold two giant ice cream bars in your hands, recently procured from a corner store on a hot day. Or, when you are just thinking of Victor and want to say something to put a smile on someone’s face. This Spanish language school is where John was introduced to other mentors and friends, Carol and Dave Hopkins, who have influenced John’s life in so many ways. Dave Hopkins was nicknamed “Bear” and so if you know of our son, Lyle Bear McDonald, you may now fully understand how his name came to be. Vic and John’s relationship is the sweetest, most sincere, father-son relationship I’ve ever seen. Vic retired early by most modern standards from his law career and spent his afternoons at the tennis courts, cheering for John and the Carson High tennis team. When John forgot his lunch at home, Vic dropped it off. When John had an important decision to make, a rough day, a funny story, a cool thing he saw, Vic was his first phone call. Vic was asked to speak at our wedding about what loving relationships mean to him and to offer advice to the newlyweds for how to live a fulfilling life. This sweet man was so emotional, so overjoyed for his son he could hardly get his words out. Yea… John and Vic are pretty close. As we’ve settled into our domestic duties and begun a family of our own, Vic has visited us in Maine as often as he could. He’s brought over more orchids and plants to brighten my days than I can even count, never taking offense to the lack of orchids and plants that still exist in my window sills! He read somewhere that dates (the fig like fruit) contribute to an easier childbirth and in an attempt to ease my eventual pain while pregnant with Lyle, mailed me dates regularly. He knew my favorite cars and the kinds of luxury SUV’s I’ve admired and wished to have one day for our family. He sent weekly listings of unique or accessible versions of these cars (I have the feeling I’m not the only one who received these emails :) ). The list of “things Vic did to make Lyndsey smile” goes on and on but one that will forever put a smile on my face is his willingness to engage in my families matching Christmas jammies tradition. You may not take Vic for a Christmas jammies kind of guy but, he was all for it. I’ll cherish these photos of Vic, alongside my parents, grandparents, husband and son… matching. With our son, Lyle, Vic was a dotting grandfather. Lyle doesn’t want for anything and Vic made absolutely sure of that. Lyle, in all of his toddler glory, might never realize the place he had in Vic’s heart. The only son, of his only son, Lyle and Vic have a special bond that was severed far too early. I will make sure that Lyle knows everything there is to know about his Grandude, in due time. I have Vic to thank for my wonderful little family. His influence permeates throughout my home and I am beyond grateful for the love and time he shared with us. I will miss you, Victor.

VIC MCDONALD We met Vic McDonald as neighbors back in 1973, when he and Kristin lived at the corner of Spear and Phillips streets. Through the years we stayed connected through mutual friends, the law firm and sporadic social events. Our friendship grew over the past 25 years as a result of common interests, such as skiing, cars, Spanish classes and travel. Once Vic moved to Reno, we started getting together on a regular basis – either before or after our hair appointments. Vic was “in the know” on all the latest eating and drinking establishments in the area, and he would decide where to meet for coffee, tea, lunch, drinks, etc. Vic introduced us to dozens and dozens of places, but we had our favorite haunts. Fittingly, Vic took us to the Pigeon Head Brewery on several occasions. Here are some observations from over the years. Vic blossomed when John was born, easily taking on the role of father. There was no one prouder of their child than Vic was of John. More recently, he embraced the role of grandpa, and his emails began to change. Pictures of Lyle soon outnumbered pictures of cars and trucks. The last photo he sent us was on January 27, and it showed a smiling Lyle walking between his mom Lindsey and dad John. In Carter’s words, Vic was a “good talker”, well read and very comfortable discussing a broad range of topics. He was a people person, often becoming acquainted with those serving us and those he encountered in his daily routine. Many of these acquaintances became close friends. He lived an active and interesting life besides relishing his work in real estate. On a personal level, Vic was a good friend. He helped maintain our friendship, taking the initiative in calling and keeping in regular contact. His voice messages from the last week of his life are typical of how he would reach out to us. Day 1, what’s the weather like in Carson? Next day, it’s cold in Reno. Day 4, are you out of town? RIP dear friend!

I met Victor not too many years ago at a gathering by our mutual friend Tom. We talked of real estate, mining and politics – for some reason he was always trying to get me to buy a tank or unique (should I say wield?) field vehicle. I will miss those conversations (and the odd vehicles he found at auction). Condolences to those he left behind – and… Godspeed Victor.

We send our condolences to Vic’s family and friends. Vic was a part of our life in a number of ways. We initially knew Vic when he came to work in Mike’s law office. It should be no surprise that he quickly became not only a partner in the law firm, but a partner in the old house on Ann Street, which was the law firm’s office. Vic then suggested that we buy the lot behind the law office, and build an office building on it. We did that, and ended up owning two buildings together. Vic was not only a good lawyer, but also great person to be in a building partnership with. As I’m sure you would anticipate, we “made money” when we sold both buildings. When Vic decided to leave the practice of law, he continued to be a friend, who we would see often at social gatherings. We were living in Jack’s Valley at the timeVic was my law partner. When we decided to move into town, we bought a house on Comstock Circle, directly across the street from Vic and Roberta, and our friendship expanded to also being neighbors. Vic was truly a person of integrity, and one of the most pleasant people we have ever known. We recently relocated to the Kitsap Peninsula, in Washington State, and are unable to attended the gathering.

As a fellow Comstock neighbor where son John was raised, Vic and I (proud grandpa’s) would keep in touch over local real estate events but it was really always a lead in to his Maine joy, photos from his frequent Maine trips. The most recent photo was the priceless grandson pic displayed in son Johns’ message. God bless.

I do not have much of a story, but I noted that there would be “tacos” at Vic’s celebration of life. When I came to Dyer & McDonald as a summer law clerk in 1993, it was great working with Vic. Vic was always grounded and pragmatic and never seemed to get sucked into the ego trip that some lawyers do. Anyway, Vic made me feel right at home and was nice enough to take me on a hike up Mount Tallac one Saturday, or as Vic called it, “Heart Attack Tallac.” It was a great day. We started with an early breakfast at The Cracker Box, and after the hike, we got a pitcher of margaritas and, you guessed it, TACOS. (I think Vic really liked tacos). Thanks Vic.

Victor took me under his wing as a new realtor in Reno. I worked with him for years and he never seemed to have a bad day in the office. He showed me all the best places to eat and I cherished our spontaneous lunch dates and zipping around in his fancy car. I remember when Victor learned he was going to be a grandpa. He was so excited and talked about John and Lindsey every chance he had always showing pictures of thier new little boy. He was very worried about me when I became a single mom (my husband deployed) and he got me a taser. Little did he know that three years after this gift it saved my son and my life in a grocery store parking lot. My heart aches for you and your family. Victor was such an amazing kind soul and I will miss him terribly.

We owe living in our current home to Vic! In the summer of about 1995, I saw Vic at the soccer fields where our sons were playing. He immediately asked me if I knew “the house” was for sale again. I said What?? I had looked at the house and learned it was in escrow. It had seemed so great, including a wide view of a ranch and the hills on the west side of the property. Vic had seen a small ad, in the Nevada Appeal I think, and recognized the house. I was able to contact the new owner right away and we finalized the purchase shortly after. “The house,” where Vic had once lived, had recently been sold by Roberta when she and their family moved to the forest. We continue to enjoy that wide view daily!

I appreciate your letting me know about Vic’s passing. We lived half the country away from each other while growing up (he in Yucaipa and me in Iola, Kansas) and then when my husband got stationed at Norton AFB in SanBernardino and we spent lots of time at the Lyle and Faye household, he was about to fly the coop and begin his career. I mostly remember how good looking he was and what a great smile he had. When we did have occasion to see each other at some McDonald gathering, I do remember his charisma and how he would make you feel you were the only one around when conversing with him. I would share photos if I knew where they live in the 10 trays of slides that have not been gone thru since my husband, Marty, passed away 16 years ago! Recently moved into Independent Living and had to downsize (a brutal process) and boxes of snapshots are on my horizon now to get thru and pass on to my kids. Your Dad sounded so much like a McDonald with probably a little more sophisticated manner in dealing with people, but wholeheartedly like his dad and his uncles when it comes to kids and showering them with adoration!! You have been fortunate to have a father such as yours!

We met Vic first as a boyfriend of my brothers soon -to -be-mother in law. He was at my brother’s wedding and was so generous with his time and provided us all transportation in a beautiful vehicle he rented. Though that is how we met, it feels like an another life. One day we reconnected at the Great Basin Community Food Coop in Reno. He was as warm and engaging as ever and I fortunately told him my new husband and I were ready to buy a house. This would start a years long friendship through real estate. Vic was our mentor and advisor. Always offering sage advice and wisdom when he somehow knew we needed it. We were always so amazed at how he could talk to anyone and though he had so much knowledge to share, we never felt lectured. That is a rare trait indeed. I am heart broken to hear Vic has left this world. He was a unique and wonderful man. Our hearts go out to his son and his family. Getting updates and photos of Lyle was such a joy. His love for his family was a huge part of knowing this amazing man. Thank you for sharing this website. In grief,

Vic lit up a room with his enthusiasm, genuine curiosity and interest in others. He was consistently upbeat and positive. He loved you deeply, John, and was so proud to be your dad. I remember two coffee shop run ins with Vic. One when I was in a Starbucks in Reno with my friend Barbara. We must have chatted with him for almost an hour. Barbara was thrilled to meet him and was impressed with his open friendliness and the conversation around Reno. The second time was when I was in a Starbucks in South Carson by myself, sitting outside in the sun. Up comes this amazing, decked out dude on his motorcycle! Yes, it was Vic. I think he had just driven down from Tahoe. We had a nice chat. I remember thinking he was off doing his thing, having a fun adventure, and enjoying every minute. We stayed in touch lately by email. He always wished me a happy birthday or happy holidays, and always, always sent pictures of you and your precious family. His life was well lived.

Vic was truly 1 of a kind. His departure makes me very sad. I enjoyed his unique jolly repartee and sometimes sarcastic wit whenever we would meet or hang out here in Reno. He kinda mostly wanted to talk about airplanes. And he even talked me into designing my Business Card.. which I called my “who I used to be” card. It seemed like he was always helping somebody.. Sam DNA Dehne

Some more memories of the six weeks Vic and I spent traveling through Europe.

We stayed at a bed and breakfast in Oxford for a few nights. One night, there was a knock on the door and a girl, who must have been in her very early twenties, said she couldn’t sleep because there was a cemetery right outside her window and she was afraid. I was a little skeptical of her at first, but she quickly convinced us she was sincere. She was a postal worker who had been assigned to a short stay in Oxford and she was staying in the same bed and breakfast we were in. She was sweet as could be. She was right about the cemetery. It was outside our window as well and the headstones were hundreds of years old, covered with moss and tilted at all angles. It looked like something out of a horror movie. Being the gentleman he was, your dad offered to sleep on the floor and let her sleep in his bed. I think she left the next day very grateful.

We spent one evening in Freiburg, arriving at the train station at about 2:00 a.m. We had no idea where we were going to stay, but that was par for us. As we walked away from the station wondering where we could sleep, a German a little older than we were struck up a conversation. He spoke perfect English. After a few minutes, said we could crash at his place for the night. We were tired and, after all, what could go wrong. We set our sleeping bags up on a rug and I was out for the night. Very early the next morning your dad shook me awake and said “we have to get out of here right now before this guy wakes up.” Your dad was pretty freaked out. It turns out the German had been trying to get your dad to go to bed with him all night. He never bothered me. I have never been able to decide if I should have been offended.

Another night in Germany we slept on a lawn in Munich. We had met two Germans who were about our age and they just said “let’s sleep here” which seemed fine to us. Early the next morning,we were awakened by a policeman who was a little upset with us, but not too much. Our new German friends said we had to go and we packed up our things and started to head out when an elderly German man started yelling at us. He was really angry but, of course, we had no idea what it was about. It was unsettling being yelled at in a foreign language in another country. After we walked away from him, our friends said he was upset because of the way we looked. We were good for nothing hippies, etc. They called him an old fascist.

On an overnight train in France, we were not able to find a single seat in second class, where we had tickets. We found a couple of seats in first class, but soon were kicked out by an angry conductor. We were desperate to sleep and we sure couldn’t stand up on the train all night. The only thing we could come up with was to put our sleeping bags in the area between two cars. I don’t know if you have been on an older train. The space between cars where they are coupled is metal, has no insulation and is really noisy. Somehow, we got some sleep there before we were again told to move. I am not sure how me managed to make it through the night.

On our last day in England, before we were schedule to fly home, we thought the best thing to do would be just to sleep in the bus station before taking the bus to the airport. The bus to the airport was part of the package we purchased and the station was just for private busses. We made it to about 1:00 a.m. or so when we were told we had to leave because the station was closing. We were in the middle of a suburb of London. Not the type of area we would expect to find hotels and, even if we could have found one, we didn’t have the money. We walked for a while trying to figure out what to do and came across a well maintained cemetery. That’s were we slept. We found some patches of lawn, no one bothered us and we had a decent few hours sleep before returning to the bus station to catch the bus to the airport.