‘He shows up in my work every day’ — Morgantown readies to say goodbye to Dr. Ras
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MORGANTOWN - Barb Rasmussen, who was then Miss Barbara Wickline, remembers pausing, then letting out a little chuckle, when the Marine asked what he asked.
"No, I'm sorry, the sergeant isn't on duty this evening, but is there a message, ma'am?"
"Well, there might be. Provided he's not married."
As it turned out, Sgt. Norval Rasmussen, back stateside after his 12 months in Vietnam - wasn't.
But he and Barb soon would be.
And you can thank West Virginia University football for rekindling a romance that would last 56 years.
"I love that story," their daughter, Dr. Sara Rasmussen said. "I love everything about their lives."
Her dad, the once-and-future Dr. Norval Rasmussen - he went to medical school on the G.I. Bill and thus inspired his daughter - died last month at the age of 78, following a period of declining health.
Arrangements are by Hastings Funeral Home in Morgantown, the West Virginia city where he and Barb made the shared life so loved by Sara.
Calling hours are from 4-6 p.m. today at the funeral home on Spruce Street. His memorial service there is 3 p.m. Saturday.
HEAD OVER HEELS, OVERSEAS
Sara's mom and dad were kids when they met up in Europe.
He was born in Wyoming, but the family went overseas when he was little.
His father was on teams of U.S.-led agriculture projects across France, Algeria and Tunisia for the State Department.
Barb, who grew up in Greenbrier County, had the same international experience when her father, who also worked the land, took a two-year appointment to Algeria, when she was a teenager.
The sojourners from Wyoming and West Virginia smiled and nodded at one another in the main hallway of Dreux American High School. They started going out.
One of their more memorable dates was in Paris, but it was short-lived.
Two years later, the Wicklines were back in Lewisburg and the Rasmussens were bound for the Belgian Congo.
Both families occasionally exchanged Christmas cards, though.
That's how Miss Wickline knew Sgt. Rasmussen was stationed in Georgia with no plans to re-up.
FOOTBALL (AND OTHER MATTERS OF LOVE)
It was 1969, and the WVU Mountaineers were headed to the Peach Bowl in Atlanta.
So was Barb, who was finishing her first degree at the school in Morgantown. She was going to the game.
"I thought, 'What the heck - I'm gonna call him,'" she said.
A few weeks later, he hopped a commuter to Morgantown.
The new-old courtship went just like a two-minute drill.
In 1970, exchanged their wedding vows - she, in a white gown and he, in his dress blues.
Barb would eventually become a WVU history professor and authority on period architecture in the Mountain State.
Her husband finished medical school on the Evansdale campus and re-invented himself as "Dr. Ras," an affable general practitioner with an amazing handlebar moustache, and, as his daughter marvels - an even more amazing ease with his patients.
"They all loved him," said Sara, who is a pediatric transplant surgeon in Columbus, Ohio. "I never met anyone who didn't like him."
The feeling was mutual, said her dad, the doc, who wasn't necessarily known for loquaciousness when voicing his emotions.
"I enjoy my patients," he said in 2012. "I like them. I care about them."
So much so, that he once did something that was unthinkable for a physician in the 21st century.
He made a house call. An actual house call.
Yes, really.
"Can you believe it?" chuckled Andy Morris, the patient who was on the receiving end of the overture.
"I live pretty close to him. One day, I was really down sick and my wife called him. Ras actually came by to check on me."
The laid-back doc also wasn't shy about digging in his heels - if that's what it took.
"There's a lot more interference with the freedom to practice medicine the way you want to," he said.
"When you have a diabetic whose sugar could be controlled by a new med that's not on the formulary, I will argue that case."
'HE SHOWS UP IN MY WORK EVERY DAY'
If Dr. Norval Rasmussen didn't voice a lot of words, Sara observed, he still said the right ones.
Prescribed, as needed. Perfect, for the moment.
As an ER doc, she said, he patiently broke it all down for the distraught family members who found their grandfather slumped at the kitchen table.
He explained it all, gently, to a worried mom and dad whose kid was suddenly facing testing and a hospital stay.
The physician and father prescribed that same approach at home with his own family, Sara said.
Dr. Ras, in fact, was her first medical mentor - without realizing it.
"He shows up in my work every day," she said.