So long, 'Big John'
This simple 500-word space can’t begin to sum up or summarize how I feel about the life and passing of John Vance.
John was one of my family’s oldest and dearest friends, the kind of friend that was family. Heck, he even had Christmas brunch with us every year.
Rather than fill this space with personal memories and reasons why I loved John, which I’ve already done at my blog, I use this column this week to give us all some lessons I’ve learned from the life and wisdom of John Vance.
I know he’s helped me throughout the years, so maybe it will help some of you, too.
Always take time to speak to people, even strangers and passers-by. Even a simple “Hello” or a smile can change a day for the better.
John was always talking to people, even folks he didn’t know.
He’d start with some benign comment or just simply say “Hi,” and before you knew it, they’d all be fast friends.
When he was a Transit driver at Auburn, he would always talk to his riders, asking how their classes were going or how their day was going.
He went out of his way to talk to the seemingly sad and lonely, asking them if they needed to talk or wanted some help.
If he had foreign exchange students on his bus, he’d learn where they were from and try to learn how to say common phrases like “Hello” and “How are you” to make them feel more welcome.
If he had athletes on his route, he’d always try to make their games, to sit out there and root for them, especially the ones whose families were too far away to come.
John was friendly like that; he genuinely cared about others.
Always have a few good stories to tell for social gatherings. If there’s a lull in the party or a problem, a good, funny story can save the day.
Anyone who knew John would tell you that man could tell a story.
He may tell two or three more along the way of finishing the first one, but the story would always be epic and memorable.
Most of them involved people I barely knew or never met, but each time he told those stories, I’d sit there riveted, watching the master storyteller at his craft.
John Vance knew how to hold the attention of a room.
He made us laugh, he made us cry – he could even recite entire episodes of “Andy Griffith.”
He had a presence that filled a room – that’s why we really called him “Big John.”
Naps are vital. Take one every day.
John was a threat to fall asleep every now and again.
I am, too.
They got it right in kindergarten – everyone should get a nap every day. Makes you feel better.
It’s the unimportant things in life that really matter the most. Small memories, random happenings – this is what life is really about.
Early morning trips to Thomas’ Donuts in Panama City.
Late night crab walks.
Errol Flynn movies.
Late night runs for Mrs. Story’s hot dogs and milkshakes.
John taught me never to miss an opportunity to do something random or unexpected.
If you have time to go and do something, go and do it. Don’t ever waste time sitting around when you can be living life.
Visit or call a friend.
Go for a walk and socialize with the neighbors.
Cruise around in your car and listen to some Motown.
Live life, because in taking those moments and doing something with them, you just might discover something important after all.
Each experience, each choice we make shapes us as a person, so why not do and try and question and reach out to our fellow man?
John Vance lived.
He cared for and tried to help others.
He told great stories.
He appreciated randomness and how important it was.
He made a difference in my life, and the lives of so many others.
Have fun up in Heaven, John.
Be sure and tell God some of your great stories.
I know He’ll like them as much as we did.
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