September 12, 2025
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My mother was widowed at 62. She passed away at 93, 31 years later. In her mid 60s she purchased a “simple black dress” for formal occasions. During the ensuing 30-some years she “buried three bridge clubs” and numerous other life long friends, relatives and acquaintances.
On the occasion of her 90th birthday, she remarked “if I had known I was going to need it so often, I’d a bought a nicer dress.” … In recent years I have come to realize the wisdom in that remark.
Five or so years ago I purchased a “nice” dark grey suit. A bit better quality than I would normally purchase considering how few “formal occasions” I attend these days as I stroll down Life’s 18th Fairway. Or so I thought … such occasions, figuratively speaking, now seem to be occuring with alarming frequency with each passing month. ….. DAMN IT!
It all began around 20 years ago with the passing of many of my friends’ parents. Because these “friends” truly are / were genuine “friends” and because I’m only an easy 70 miles from where we all grew up – Kinston – where many of the families still lived … any minor inconvenience was erased by the genuiness of the friendships involved.
Now days … its getting REAL personal. Now those same “friends” are the ones passing away with ever-increasing frequency. ….. DAMN IT!
The simple truth from – supposedly – Yogi Berra comes into play … “If you don’t attend the funerals of your friends, chances are they will not attend yours.”
And there’s that other sobering “simple truth” …. “No matter how well-led a life … the number of attendees at one’s funeral will ultimently be determined by ………… the weather”.
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As you may recall, in early January of last year, I was diagnosed with cancer. Hodgkins Lymphoma to be exact. Several weeks later, my life long friend – Will Allen – was diagnosed with a rare blood cancer.
Our 60+ years of friendship took on a special bonding with this mutually “shared experience”.
“My cancer” has a 60% recovery rate and I was pronounced “clean” in mid-December. Will’s form of cancer had a virtually zero recovery rate. He was given a “several months” life expectancy and told that “maintaining a quality of life for as long as possible” was his only option. “Several months” lasted 18 months with numerous chemos and painful bone marrow transplants and an ever-diminishing “quality of life” that mercifully ended last week … quietly in his sleep with his family at his bedside.
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I, and many of you reading this, are at a “reflecting” stage of our lives. Reflecting back over the ups and downs and wouldas couldas shouldas … those “roads diverging in a yellow wood … and the roads not taken … AND the roads taken”. How does one measure ones life in retrospect?
One of my measurements is the number of memorable “characters” I have met along the way. “Character” as a noun not as a quality. Will Allen has a permanent place on my short list of “memorable characters”.
NOTE: So does “Zero” McGee – a bellman at The Crown Center Hotel in Kansas City in the late 70s. Wanna make my list of memorable characters? Be able to quote every line of every Marx Brothers movie and you have a good chance of making my list
I’m going to leave a link to Will’s formal obituary at the bottom of this that chronicles his life in the traditional fashion. A very well-written and accurate obituary … which I’m sure Will had plenty of time to edit and approve.
With both of us living in Raleigh, we would get together for breakfast every month or so over the past 8-10 years. Every breakfast would include a detailed synopsis of Will’s most recent and/or upcoming globe-trotting adventure.
From his 30-some years as an “international management consultant” Will had accumulated a zillion frequent flyer miles on every airline on the planet. One of his life goals long before his fatal diagnosis was to use up all those free miles. I haven’t asked his wife Ruth if he managed to do so.
A dozen plus trips to Kruger National Wildlife Park in South Africa took a healthy chunk of those miles. I doubt I’ll ever go there but I hardly need to. Will’s penchant for taking pictures of EVERYTHING on his adventures … and sending each and every picture to, apparently, EVERYONE in his contacts, including me, was one of his most endearing Will-isms.
If you ever need a picture of two hyenas having sex in a ditch by the side of the road … I have several dozen you can choose from courtesy of Will Allen.
Howsabout a street lamp in Stockholm? … a fish head from a street merchant in Shanghai? … a manhole cover in Florence, Italy? … two squirrels chasing each other up a lodgepole pine in the Grand Tetons? … Wife Ruth waiting to catch a train in Bucharest? … I got’em all in “Will’s Picture Folder”.
Back in April, Wife Ruth arranged a Living Eulogy Surprise Party for Will at a local eatery. A GREAT IDEA by the way. Will’s medical diagnosis was known by the 100 or so of us in attendance. It was a Grand Affair.
Have I mentioned that Will was THE Quintessential Yellow Dog Democrat? He was.
Will often bragged about his “many Conservative friends”. “Many” in Will’s case was “three” including me. One of the other two, Rob, was also present. The other 90+ attendees consisted of many of Raleigh’s Liberal Elite including assorted mayors and other left-wing hoi polloi.
I was one of 5-6 to share a few words … qualifying me for a little-known Guiness Record. The only human in recorded history to deliver eulogies for both Rush Limbaugh and Will Allen.
Will stood by my side scared spitless as I delivered my “few words” fearing that I would ignite a socio-political brouhaha. I didn’t. The line about “the two hyenas” was well received with 100 heads nodding that they all received Will’s pictures too.
Will Allen was a true Renaissance Man. He had an innate curious about much of life mysteries. Including “How I could support Donald Trump”.
Will Allen knew more about “the railroad bizness” than any man alive … at least any I’ve ever known. I swear he was at Promitory Point when the golden spike was driven creating America’s transcontinental railroad.
Will was chosen by one of Raleigh’s Mayors to be on a blue ribbon committee to drum up support for an ill-fated light-rail system thru The Triangle. Will was the only member of the committee that knew that “railroad” was one word … or knew the words to The Wabash Cannonball.
Will’s assignment was to conduct “neighborhood meetings” in Raleigh’s toney “inside the beltline” enclave extolling the aesthetic advantages (??) of having a freakin’ railroad track running thru one’s backyard.
When Will told me, excitedly, over breakfast that he was going to do it, I asked if he was familiar with the term NIMBY – “Not In My Backyard”. He was not … but he soon was. At our next breakfast he described the abject horrors of his first “neighborhood meeting” as octogenarians hurled obscenties and insulted his mamma. I suggested a phalanx of RPD’s finest at all future meeting … but Will assured me there would BE no future meetings.
Will gained a reputation in his Cameron Park neighborhood as “The Japanese Maple Man”. He grew Japanese Maples and offered plantable shoots to anyone who would like one. We have two of Will’s Japanese Maples in our front yard. “Kid” also has one in her yard in Richmond.
Will requested there be no funeral or memorial service. His ashes to be spread over places of special meaning to Will and his family. Vintage Will … No mention of who would be assigned to deliver the ashes to Kruger Park in South Africa.
For the 60+ years I was honored to be Will Allen’s friend, he eschewed “religion” in all forms. Especially “formal religion”. He was not sacreligious by any definition simply firmly agnostic.
It is said there are no agnostics or atheists in foxholes. Will spent his final week in Hospice Care … I’m not sure if “being in Hospice” is akin to “being in a foxhole” so far as “hedging one’s bet” regarding Eternity.
I am considering sending an email to St Peter seeking a special dispensation for Will. Could St Peter waive John 3:16 just this once … for Will? My son-in-law “Danny The Vicar” says all “they” can say is “Sorry, ‘dems the rules.” Hellfire, It can’t hurt … can it? Oops, poor choice of words there.
I hope you have had a few “characters” in your life. I’m glad I had Will Allen in mine. I’m already missin’ that goofy little fella.
As promised … Will Allen’s formal obituary.
Some of BobLee’s Best …. HERE
