Eric Uthoff's Eulogy
Son of Vince
Today we are here to honor the memory of Dr. Vincent Uthoff. Standing before you, I am struck by the fact that it has not been nearly long enough since I stood here and spoke to the memory of my mother, Janet. Just as on that day, I am extremely grateful for the support and kindness that everyone has given our family in this time of sorrow. Neighbors, coworkers and church members have supplied us with food and helped with work at the house. Family members and friends from across the country have come here today and it has been a wonderful weekend, as much as it can be, catching up and sharing memories into the late night. Today, I want to answer a question that my Dad asked me and my siblings in his final introspective months. "Was I a good father?" he asked us. Its unfortunate that my father should have to ask this question. I would think that looking at the family he created, his three grown children who have created successful lives themselves that the question should be unnecessary. Vince would always say, in the very scientific way that he described things, that "the only true measure of success for a life-form is the success of its offspring." Essentially, that a parent should be judged by the greatness of his or her children. And while I'm not sure I completely agree with this as the only metric of a father's success, by his own criteria, the answer to his question, "Was I a good father?" should be self evident; it is a resounding yes. Unfortunately, my father was never so self assured. Therefore, for him, I will give my first hand account of my father, and the measures of success that he achieved, as I see it, as his ever grateful son.
Vince did not start with the clear advantages that I had in life. Vince was born to a middle class family in America's heartland, in Iowa City. His father was a successful accountant. While by no means poor, his family relied on getting by with their own means and elbow grease. His father was a self reliant man, who renovated their Iowa City house himself, even going to the lengths to raise the house on jacks so he could redo the foundation. Dad described his father as stern. Perhaps a product of surviving the great depression, my grandfather would constantly remind my father of the insurmountable challenges that his life goals would present him. If my father wasn't studying, my grandfather would say that he was lazy and a poor student. If my father aced his studies despite this, then it was only because his school was lazy and a poor education. By my Dad's recollection, it seems that even his eventual PHD in statistics at a prestigious University was not enough to convince his own father that he could achieve more than those who came before him, but achieve more, he did.
Perhaps then, the greatest difference between my father's childhood and my own, was having a father who was a pillar of support. In the recollections that I have shared with my siblings the past few days, we are all amazed at the extreme pride that Dad would take in everything we did. His office became an art gallery for the rough etches of his children. Though his eyes, my crude attempts at computer graphics were the amazing feats of a budding artist. He was involved with all of our activities. A fan at my brothers soccer game, a tribe member at my Indian guides campout, the office's girl-scout cookie salesman for my sister. He sat through each cacophony of my school band concerts. He watched my sister as a graceful ballerina. He sat patiently (or sometimes not so patiently) with my brother for calculus homework day after day until he passed the test. He took such pride in each of our small steps, so that we would feel that pride, and shoot for our highest goals.
Of course Dad excelled at other aspects of being a father. Being quick witted, he was a master at the art of Dad humor. "What do you call a gull who lives by the sea?... A seagull. What do you call a gull who lives by the bay?... A bagel." Or perhaps his favorite one (the most groan inducing). "How do you catch a one-of-a-kind rabbit?... U-nique up on it." I'll let y'all think about that one. In personality, my Dad was a lot of contradictions which will provide me with many cherished memories. A walking encyclopedia, Dad could tell you the genus and phylum of just about every animal on the planet of the top of his head. However, he could never remember how many times had told you about those animals (about 1500 times!). He was a sophisticated man who used big words and enjoyed intelligent discourse. He was also a man who loved a good fart joke, or even a bad fart joke. He was a stoic man who rarely showed his sadness, but he also was a man who cried when the Rohirrim arrived to save Gondor on the 100th watching of Return of the King. He was quirky, knowledgeable, clever and kind.
I can't talk about the life that my father lead without talking about my mother as well. Dad met my mom at a time in his life were he had almost given up on the prospect of starting a family. He was extremely skeptical when his cousin tried to set him up on a date while he was visiting his hometown. As a statistician, he had reason to be. What are the chances that this math teacher from Iowa, who was his cousin's child's teacher, would turn out to be the perfect fit for the oddball that my father was? But in statistics, we know that even rare are guaranteed to occur given enough time. It was only three months later that the were engaged, and they married within the same year. For over 30 years they were constant companions, and faced many challenges and triumphs together. For the bereaved, the death of a loved one is tumultuous and tragic. However, for the deceased, in many ways, death can be peaceful, as it reunites a person with those who have left before them. It was 5 years that my father survived after my mother. As I think of my own wife, I find it hard to imagine being separated from your best friend and companion for so long. I think that there were many wonderful things in this life that kept him in this place. His three grand children, whom he loved more than life itself, gave so much joy to him in his final years. He lived to see all of his children in loving relationships, and in rewarding careers. He lived to see the emergence of amazing technology, the phones in our pockets magnitudes more powerful than the room sized IBM's he programmed in college. Finally, I believe that he lived long enough to see his success as a father, and I think that is the most that a father can hope for. Like every man, Vince had strengths and weakness, but when it comes to your question Dad, all three of your children have no issue saying that few people in this world can hold a candle to what you have done as our Dad. We love you, we miss you, and we are eternally grateful. Rest well Vince, and say hi to mom.