Individual Details

In Memory of My Father, El Dean Wilson by Rex Wilson

             My father, El Dean Wilson, was a man of principle, integrity, intellect, culture,generosity, and devotion to his family.
            My wife, Lua, was staying in California during El Dean’s final illness, and she helped care for him. One morning in November 1997 she phoned me in Macau to say that my father had gone into open-heart surgery and “He didn’t make it.”Suddenly I felt like an orphan alone in the world.
            I got on the next flight to Los Angeles and was soon with all the relatives who had gathered for the funeral. They were all very caring and supportive. Some of them, including my sister Cynthia, went to the mortuary to see the body, but I chose not to go because I wanted to remember him only as he was in life.
            The funeral service was held in the beautiful Crystal Cathedral, known worldwide to viewers of Dr. Robert Schuller’s Christian television program Hour of Power. His life-long friend, Howard Kelley, delivered a very personal and interesting eulogy.

  Eulogy by the Rev. Howard E. Kelley
             El Dean Wilson was a son of the plains who became a man of the world. Born in a small Nebraska town, by the time he made his transition last Friday, he had traveled to every corner of the earth, visiting places that some of us may not even know about. Just three weeks ago he returned from the trip he had always wanted to make—a train trip across Canada, from the east coast to the west coast. It was the trip of his life!
            He moved with his family to California four years after his birth in 1919. Along with the usual stuff that families take on such a move, El Dean brought with him a few toys and the solid values and principles of his mid-western ancestors—honesty, dependability, fairness, caring for others, truthfulness,integrity—values and principles that would guide him and that he would live throughout his 78-plus years.
            Those who knew him found an unusual human being inside his skin. As unusual as his name—his full name: Ivory El Dean Wilson. How many “Ivorys” have you known? How many “El Deans”? How many “Ivory El Deans”?
            Here was a man who had an intense interest not only in the world but also in the universe that surrounded it. His appetite for things cultural, educational,scientific, etc., was nearly insatiable. His collections, magazines, books revealed a mind that was always searching for new information, always honing new material, always storing new knowledge.
            Then there was his sense of humor. It was different, to say the least! Consider the way he answered the telephone. Who else do you know who would bark“Stockyards!” or “Mortuary!” or one or two other tasty morsels into the mouthpiece the way El Dean did?
            He had some standard one-liners that he loved to repeat ad infinitum, ad nauseam:
            For example, were you to say to him, “Well, El Dean, what are your plans for today?” his response was apt to be “I don’t know; I haven’t received my orders from the Greek War Department.” And the Greek War Department was, of course,his wife Alex, who is of Greek ancestry, and whom he loved very much.
            “Do I have to?” would be his response if you said to him “Have a nice day” or if a waiter or waitress encouraged him to enjoy his meal.
            “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t enjoy!” was his way of saying good-bye or so long.
            “It’s arisipelis to me barangarically speaking” often would be his answer if you asked him how he thought about something.
            “I was the best man at Kelley’s wedding—and I still am!” he loved to say when he and I were with others. I’ve always survived that shot pretty well. But the other day, as we were saying our personal farewells to El Dean, my wife suddenly said something that sounded like agreement with El Dean’s declaration. So now I wonder!      
            I chose El Dean as my best man because he was the brother I never had. Our lives first intersected at a church camp so many years ago that neither of us could remember exactly when except that it was in the late 1930s.
            Over these six decades of our lives, and the lives of our families and our children,as well as our interests, the schools we attended and the majors we selected,our careers in the ministry, our activities, our travels—all intertwined like the threads of a tapestry, sometimes by design, sometimes not.
            After several years in the ministry, El Dean decided to go into business, becoming a realtor in 1946. Later he became a developer, and in 1969 he and an associate formed Oranco Development, Incorporated, in Anaheim; it is now in Irvine. He headed this firm until 1982, when he retired, turning the business over to a stepson. [Paul Cassidy]
            During all of these years a very significant aspect of El Dean’s character demonstrated itself, and that was his commitment to give something back. He did this through both his person and his purse.
        As a realtor, he was active in the Anaheim Board of Realtors and the Orange County Board of Realtors.
        He loyally supported his alma mater,Chapman University.
        While his business was located in Anaheim, he was a member of the Anaheim Lions Club, serving a term as its president. Later he belonged to the Orange Rotary club, and since his move to Idyllwild about four years ago he has belonged to the Rotary club there.
        In Idyllwild he also has been an active member of the Idyllwild Arts Academy Foundation.
        He also was interested in certain religious causes abroad. Notable were the missionary efforts of his daughter and her husband in Mongolia, and the building of a hospital in Chiapas, Mexico,a project that was completed under the aegis of the Crystal Cathedral.
             I would be remiss if I did not mention the one thing that was of supreme and abiding importance to El Dean—his family. He demonstrated over and over again his devotion and commitment to his wife, his children, his stepchildren, his grandchildren. Of all his possessions, they were most important. He was always there for them—literally. More than once he got into his car or climbed on an airplane to go to a family member who needed support of whatever kind, and he gave it.
            In a few moments, Dr. Leestma will tell you of the hospital visit he made to El Dean last Thursday evening and of a Bible verse he shared with El Dean. That visit—that verse—brought a peacefulness and a calmness to El Dean that was palpable. It helped to prepare him for the remaining hours of his life on this earth. That night he slept soundly and solidly—without the aid of any kind of medication. He was at peace . . . with life, with himself, with the future,with God.
            I am reminded that three days before his death, John Quincy Adams wrote a letter to Thomas Jefferson. This is what he said:
JQA is well, but the house in which he lives at the present time is becoming dilapidated. It is tottering on its foundations, time and seasons have pretty well destroyed it, its roof is pretty well worn out, its walls are much shattered and tremble with every wind. I think JQA will have to move out of it very soon. But JQA himself is quite well.
  In recent years, the house in which El Dean lived had become dilapidated. Time and seasons had pretty well destroyed it. It was shattered and trembled with every wind. El Dean was aware of that. And he wasn’t sure it could be repaired, but he wanted to try, so he decided on open-heart surgery, his second such operation in 15 years.
            He knew the risk of the surgery—but he was willing to take it. And he also knew the risk of not having the surgery—and that risk he was not willing to take. In fact, he became quite distressed at one point when he thought the operation might be postponed. He chose it because the person that he was would not permit him to continue to live in the house that he had.
            El Dean knew who he was. He knew where he was. He knew he might not survive the surgery—and he didn’t. But he was at peace with himself, with others, and with God.
            And now El Dean is well. He is well! He is healed!
            God will always have the last word, and that last word will always be good. The last word for El Dean is this:
For we know that if our earthly house, this tent, is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. -- 2 Corinthians 5:1
            El Dean is quite well!

Eulogy by Rex Wilson 
            At my father’s funeral service, I stood before the many friends and relatives gathered and read this eulogy:
             I stand before you as a living legacy to my father, El Dean Wilson. Many people here knew his personality and his integrity. As his son, I am familiar with aside of him that others, perhaps, are not. My father was a man who seldom expressed his emotions. He was not outwardly affectionate, but in my relationship with him this was never a problem. The devotion we felt for each other was understood in the relaxed way in which we did simple things together,and we took a sincere interest in each other’s welfare.
            I know that he was proud of me, not so much because of what he told me, but because of what he told others. I have spent half of the last twenty-four years living overseas, and whenever I came back hear he would introduce me to his friends, who would invariably say, “Oh, you are the son who has been living in England (or Guatemala or Macau),” or wherever it was that I had just come from. It was obvious that he had been speaking with pride about me in my absence.
            One of my most poignant memories of my father is of the time when he put me on the bus that would carry me away on a trip to Ireland and England, from which I would not return for three years. As the bus pulled away, he ran alongside watching me go, with his emotion visible on his face. If I weep now, it is not from sorrow, but from tenderness, for I loved my father.
            All this traveling of mine brings up another point about my father’s character. He never tried to control my life, or to choose my career, or to tell me what to believe. Rather, he encouraged me to develop my own talents and interests, and to fulfill my own dreams. I thank him for that.
            He did, however, sometimes offer advice, or I sought it from him, as when I asked for his blessing and permission to marry my dear wife, who also admired him. I had an immense respect for my father, and I honored him.
            My father was not an outwardly religious man, but he believed in his creator, and he had a keen moral perception that could discriminate clearly between right and wrong. Moreover, he followed his conscience. He was not a hypocrite. My father was a man of integrity, and he raised his children to have integrity.
            Much more could be said about his compassion, his generosity, his love of nature,and other virtues. But for now, I prefer to keep all these in my heart. Someday I will share all these memories with him when we are reunited in the Kingdom of Glory.
             I also read a prayer for the soul of my father. Two different people asked me afterward if it was by the poet Khalil Gibran. In fact, it is from the writings of Bahá’u’lláh, with which Gibran was familiar.

Glory be to Thee, O Lord my God!
Abase not him whom Thou hast exalted through the power of Thine everlasting sovereignty,
and remove not far from Thee him whom Thou hast caused to enter the tabernacle of Thine eternity.
Lord! I bear witness that in Thy servant Thou hast reposed Thy Trust,
and that is the Spirit wherewith Thou hast given life to the world.
I ask of Thee by the splendor of the Orb of Thy Revelation,
mercifully to accept from him that which he hath achieved in Thy days.
Grant then that he may be invested with the glory of Thy good-pleasure and adorned with Thine acceptance.
Grant, O my God, that Thy servant my consort with Thy chosen ones, Thy saints and Thy Messengers
in heavenly places that the pen cannot tell nor the tongue recount.
O My Lord, the poor one hath verily hastened unto the Kingdom of Thy wealth,
the stranger unto his home within Thy precincts,
he that is sore athirst to the heavenly river of Thy bounty.
Deprive him not, O Lord, from his share of the banquet of Thy grace and from the favor of Thy bounty.
Thou art in truth the Almighty, the Gracious, the All-Bountiful.
O my God, Thy Trust hath been returned unto Thee.
It behooveth Thy grace and Thy bounty that have compassed Thy dominions on earth and in heaven,
to vouchsafe unto Thy newly welcomed one Thy gifts and Thy bestowals, and the fruits of the tree of Thy grace!
Powerful art Thou to do as Thou willest, there is none other God but Thee,
the Gracious, the Most Bountiful, the Compassionate, the Bestower, the Pardoner, the Precious, the All-Knowing.

• 

Birth	20 Jun 1919	Arlington, Washington County, Nebraska
Census (family)-shared	21 Jan 1920	(Ivan Rex Wilson and Sarah Ellen "Nellie Baldwin" Osborne) Arlington, Washington County, Nebraska
Residence	22 Nov 1923	Los Angeles, Los Angeles County, California
Census (family)-shared	24 Apr 1930	(Ivan Rex Wilson and Sarah Ellen "Nellie Baldwin" Osborne) Los Angeles, Los Angeles County, California
Census	1940	Los Angeles, Los Angeles County, California
Marriage	20 Nov 1942	Long Beach, Los Angeles County, California - Frances Emma Greer
Divorce	1967	Frances Emma Greer
Marriage	5 Apr 1968	Orange, Orange County, California - Living
Residence	1 Sep 1991	Orange, Orange County, California
Residence	1 Jun 1996	Idyllwild, Riverside County, California
Death	21 Nov 1997	Heart Disease - Orange, Orange County, California
Burial		Crystal Cathedral Memorial Gardens, Garden Grove, Orange County, California

Spouse	Frances Emma Greer (1921 - 1989)
Child	Living
Child	Living

Spouse

Living

Father	Ivan Rex Wilson (1888 - 1945)
Mother	Sarah Ellen "Nellie Baldwin" Osborne (1884 - 1942)

Notes