Vilas Edwin Whitney

Vilas Edwin Whitney was born April 2, 1919 in Maryville, Missouri. He passed away October 1, 2012 in Long Beach, California. He is survived by his daughter, Betty Vocke of Cypress, son Gary Whitney of Burlington Junction, Missouri, 9 grandchildren and 17 great-grandchildren and many wonderful nieces and nephews. Vilas was born in Maryville, MO and served in the Army Air Corp during World War II in the South Pacific and was a proud veteran. He married Phyllis Jean Johnston December 14, 1945 and they were married for nearly 66 years until her passing in November 2011. They lived in Long Beach for nearly 50 years & then moved to Vintage assisted living for the past three years.

Eulogy was written and presented by granddaughter, Rebecca Jean Crego.

PAPA’S EULOGY

Vilas Edwin Whitney was a mid-west native, born to William Benjamin Whitney and Magdalena (Lena) Whitney in Maryville, Missouri on April 2, 1919. He was the middle child with two older siblings, brother Bill and sister Margaret, and two younger siblings, brother Harry and sister Mary. I am Becky or “Bec” as Grandpa often called me- one of his nine grandchildren.

Vilas left school while in the 11th grade. It was the Great Depression, and he had to help support his family. He worked in an Auto Body Shop doing mechanics and body and fender work. He worked six days per week, and his salary was one dollar per week.

Vilas (aka “Vi”) served in the Army Air Corp during World War II. He sailed on the Queen Mary to the South Pacific when the ship was a troop carrier. He was stationed in Australia and New Guinea. At that time, he became a cook for the Army. It was aboard this voyage when the food spoiled, and the crew was reduced to eating candy bars and anything non-perishable. When my siblings and cousins were young, our Grandma Phyllis wanted to take us on a tour of the Queen Mary. Grandpa said “No thanks, I don’t ever want to see that darn thing again!”

After the war, Grandpa met my Grandma, Phyllis Jean Johnston, while roller skating on Halloween, 1945. Six weeks later, Vilas picked Phyllis up after school. He had his mother, Great-Grandma Lena, in the back seat of the car. He told Phyllis “we’re getting married.” Together they drove to Troy, Kansas and were married that same day, December 14, 1945. They were married for just shy of 66 years before losing his beloved Phyl in November, 2011. You had to hand it to the man: he knew what he wanted, and he got it!

The couple was blessed with two children as a result of their union. Some call it the “King’s Share,” a daughter and a son. Betty Jean was born in January of 1947 and Gary Reagan arrived in February of 1949. In 1950, Vilas and Phyllis relocated from Missouri to California. He had visited California while serving in the Army, and he loved the climate. Their permanent home eventually became 3212 Marwick Avenue in Long Beach. He bought it for $10,500.00, and the extra $500.00 was for the fireplace. His brother Harry and his wife Rita, and his sister Mary and her husband Bob, also made their homes and raised their families in California, not far from 3212 Marwick Avenue. As a result, the family had many opportunities to get together and have fun.

While raising his children, Vi worked for several car dealerships as a body and fender man. He worked for 42 years before forced to retire for health reasons. He was a lover of Buicks, and he wasn’t fond of Fords!

Some of the fondest memories of “Dad” or “Uncle Vi” as described by his children, nieces and nephews were of his homemade ping pong table and stilts. (It is said that he later blew the end off of that ping pong table with a firecracker in a tin can). The kids would run through the water in the yard and Vilas would be the jokester to put the hose down their swimsuits. One of the fond memories shared was Vilas lying on the grass, bouncing his sister Mary’s triplets on his tummy. He was very playful and “all the kids loved him.”

The family had backyard BBQs and shrimp fries and “German Sundays.” They would roll up the rug in the living room and dance. I’m told that Vilas loved a German Polka or a Missouri Waltz. Throughout his life, he was a lover of the simpler things in life. He enjoyed camping and fishing. He loved to go bowling before he hurt his shoulder and could no longer do it. He loved to watch the Dodgers, and much later in life, listening to the Dodgers game became one of his last pleasures. Vi enjoyed solving puzzles and working with his strong hands.

The backyard BBQs and family gatherings did not end as his children grew. They continued as the grandchildren and great-grandchildren arrived. The door at 3212 Marwick Avenue was always open. I would go to Grandpa’s house every day after school from 6th grade to nearly a senior in high school. I never knew who I would find visiting in the kitchen or on the back patio. It was often Aunt Mary and/or Uncle Bob, cousin Rob, that “strange man” cousin Craig or Larry the gardener. When I was really young, I may even find Bill and Velma Brown-at dinner time, of course. Everyone was welcome to an ice cold beer (or two) or a “pop” from the fridge in the garage. Grandpa loved a good beer: at one time, a Lucky Lager.

One thing that everyone could absolutely agree on from generation to generation, from his children, to his grandchildren to his great-grandchildren, is that Grandpa was an outstanding cook. He was in his element in the kitchen, shirt off, cursing at something going wrong now and then. Frequently he would utter “ho hum.” He mastered Grandma Lena’s coleslaw like no other. He always prepared it in the same wooden bowl, it was a must have, a true favorite for any occasion. We especially loved coleslaw with meatloaf and baked macaroni and cheese.

Grandpa could make the perfect sandwich. Something about him making it made it taste so much better. We girls loved onion dip and potato chips. Sometimes after school when it was just me, he would offer to make “some dip” because he knew I loved it. When I would decline, he would ask me what was wrong with me, and wasn’t I hungry? He would encourage me to dig in and eat some more, and then he would lovingly razz me “for eating all the darn dip!”

Grandpa always had our favorites on hand, and the pineapple cookie jar loaded. The bread drawer may house a treat or two, or there was something hidden above the stove: peanuts or m-n-m’s or kit kat bars. Matt, who also had the pleasure of spending school day afternoons with Grandpa, has fond memories of being fed cinnamon rolls and toaster hashed browns. The thing about Grandpa is that he would feed you whether you were hungry or not. It was his greatest expression of love—to feed you and see that you were happy.

As a child, Matt remembers Grandpa blasting the sand from the sandbox out of his shoes and socks with his air compressor in the garage before he was allowed to go into the house. Grandpa banished me to the garage in 6th grade because he simply could not tolerate “Arapaho Warriors” screeching one more time from my flute. Missy and I used to take turns racing around on his bike through the neighborhood, and I think all of the grandchildren played that bopper game with the ping pong ball (whatever it was called) darts and jarts in the backyard at family gatherings or just because. At one time, toys could be found in the bottom drawer of the desk in the kitchen. Grandpa used to tickle us in the collar bone and push his false teeth out to make us laugh. We would say “do it again, Grandpa, do it again!” He would refuse and then eventually do it again when you least expected him to just to see us screech and giggle.

As we grew older, Angie remembers playing pinnocle with Mom, Gram and Grandpa. Grandpa was Angie’s partner and they would win “80%” of the time according to her, although I’m sure the ladies would “beg to differ.” I remember playing gin rummy with Grandpa for hours after school, and then again being “scolded” by him for “farting around playing cards” instead of doing my homework.

As we aged some more, married and began having our own babies, Grandma and Grandpa remained equally instrumental in our lives. Despite Grandpa’s strength, he had a unique gentleness and tenderness with the babies, and he genuinely would get a kick out of the kids. Our family as a whole grew and evolved, and each new member was embraced and cherished as much as the old. Gary’s marriage to Cindy resulted in a whole new addition to love, including Grandpa’s name sake, their son Edwin Vilas Whitney. I am sure it meant a lot to Grandpa to be honored in that way.

I’m sure my sisters, my brother and cousins share the same sentiment when I say that I feel so fortunate to have known Grandpa as an adult, to have been blessed with his company as long as we were, and for him to have known our children. With Grandpa, you could truly speak your mind without judgment. If you messed up, he forgave you and we moved on. He often shared quietly in your victories and tragedies, only occasionally offering an opinion, but usually just lending his ear. Many of you shared how you appreciated his ability to listen, his quiet understanding, and his loving and compassionate nature. Equally important was his love of a good story or a great joke. I know I felt content with him whether telling an animated story that made him laugh or sitting in silence, just being together. These past several years whenever we would say “goodbye,” I’d tell him to “be good, stay out of trouble, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Mom would tell him “no wild parties.” He would often smile and say “you too.”

At some point in time, and I’m not sure when, Grandpa also came to be affectionately known as “Papa” to some of his grandchildren and his great-grandchildren. I loved that my mom always called him “Daddy.” He was “Dad” or “Pop,” a favorite uncle, a beloved husband, a devoted son, a loving brother and a faithful friend. He was a man of character and conviction. Until the end, he never lost his zest for life nor waivered in his belief that life truly is good and worth fighting for. He was one-of-a-kind. Our lives are richer because of him. We will miss him. Grandma, get ready because he is coming home.