Westward Facing Cave: Poppa Bear is Gone

Dr. William Allison Vance junior
6 June 1926 - 11 July 2006

Dad had a heart attack this morning and died alone at Cedar Ridge. He had called John to tell him he was not feeling well and by the time John got there, he was dead. He will be missed.

I was lucky, as his oldest son, to spend a lot of time with him while I was growing up. I got to go fishing with him, rabbit hunting with him in the winter, and pheasant hunting with Dad, Grandpa, and Dad's uncles, June and Joe. I was the one who got to stand around and hand him his tools as he worked. Dad was a perfectionist. He demanded it of himself and expected it in others. I think I disappointed him a lot as a boy. Dad worked harder than any man I have ever met. While he was building his practice, he would go to work at 6 in the morning and come home at 6 or 7 every night. And then he would make housecalls. He was active in many different fraternal organizations, including the Lions, High Twelve, and all the branches of Masonry, Blue Lodge, Chapter, Commandery, York Rite, Scottish Rite, and Shrine. He was networking before it was called networking. I don't think Mom ever understood that he was building his practice and our economic well being. But I learned from Dad and Grandpa what it meant to be a man. You make mistakes, but you go out every day and do the best that you can do.

After I went away to college, we sort of, in the natural order of things, drifted apart. I got married and had my own wife and sons to fill my time. The Air Force and work kept me far enough away that visits were few and far between. Dad, like me, was not given to writing letters, so the years flew by.

One of the more fortunate things that happened along the way was a celebration of Dad's 75th birthday at Cedar Ridge in 2001. It caught me up short, because in my mind's eye, Dad was still 35 even though I was by then 53. My brothers and I gathered at the Ridge and remarked that it was nice to get together for something other than a marriage or a funeral. We played croquet and had a thoroughly pleasant time. I offered to fly Dad and his wife, Lee, to San Diego if they wanted. Fortunately, they accepted and came out to visit. Dad was enchanted with SD and came out several more times to stay for as long as he could get a kitchen pass, usually a week to 10 days at a time.

He loved Point Loma, a peninsula that forms the entrance to San Diego Bay. We would go two or three times every time he visited. He would sit for hours and watch the sailboats in the bay and just marvel at the many moods and colors of the Pacific.

We made a point of going to Pacific Beach almost every day when he visited, although some days Dad would just visit the hot tub at the apartment complex and relax. He also liked the harbor.

Dad was here when Quentin became a Marine. I don't know who enjoyed it more.

On Dad's last visit to San Diego, we went to Mt Palomar to see the observatory. Dad also loved the Jacaranda trees with their purple blooms.

After Lee had her heart attack, Dad felt compelled to stay at Cedar Ridge. Her heart attack was a near thing, had Dad not been there, she would have died. As he always did, he subordinated what he wanted to do to what he felt he had to do.

Fortunately, my business took me to Cedar Rapids and we were able to gather at Lon's in North Liberty to play croquet and pinochle. We were able to get together three times and it was good. The last time was for Dad's 80th birthday. For a variety of reasons, we got together on Wednesday the 5th instead of on his birthday. Dave was able to come up from Florida so five of us were together. Only Don was missing, something that I think he will regret until his dying day.

But as you can see, Dad was having a good day.