The year before I was married in 1989, my dad took me aside and with a twinkle in his eye told me the story of the lady I was named after, Dallas Fellersen. She was his nurse in WWII who nursed him back to health after he got shot through the shoulder during the Anzio invasion. He said she would walk him around the gardens, she had red hair and freckles and she was the only redhead he knew who could tan. He and the other wounded soldiers would watch the nurses and the officers swim during their time off. She was 31; my dad was 21. He told me the last he heard, she was a school nurse in the Sacramento area. I called 411 and got her nephew and she had already passed away. When my dad died in 1990, after walking me down the aisle, we got his Big Ben book of letters home to his parents during WWII, and I vowed to transcribe them for all to read, as he was an educator extraordinaire, a English professor at SDSU in CA, and an awesome father of seven, two of whom are golf pros. Love Dad