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Surrounded by loved ones, passed away on the morning of May 6 following complications from emergency bowel surgery. He was 80 years old.
Bill was an extraordinary man who valued—often above all else—humour, clarity, and concision. We’re tossing that last one aside (sorry, Bill, but you’re a hard man to capture). Here goes:
He was born in Toronto on March 22, 1945, to June Whall. Though he never met his birth father, Albert McCrae, he was lovingly cared for in Winnipeg by Bluebell and Joseph Van Buren. When June married Lt. Ralph Fleeton Allen, she returned for her two-year-old Bill, and the three moved to Lenore, MB, where Ralph worked as the station master, and where June and Ralph had three children: Patrick, Dorothy, and Kathleen.
When Ralph retired in 1956, the family moved to Cheapside, ON. It was there, with his best buddy Peter Abbott, that Bill discovered Dave Brubeck, Glenn Gould, and Schrödinger. At 15, he and Peter hitchhiked to Manhattan with nothing but a few cheese sandwiches wrapped in wax paper and $1.60 between them. They got by on the kindness of strangers—until the police brought them home.
Bill tried out university at McMaster for a few months. It didn’t take—likely due to one of the many existential crises that dotted his life—but he found work at the Good Shepherd in Hamilton and later at a bank, where he accidentally shot a hole in the safe while messing around with a pistol. Around this time, he saw 8½ by Federico Fellini at the old Delta Theatre on Main Street. He immediately returned three times to see it again.
In 1966, Bill was visiting Strathroy, ON, where he met another dear friend—also named Peter: Peter Jensen. Peter helped him land a job as an attendant at the Psychiatric Hospital in London. Around the same time, Linda Dinning saw Bill from across the street and thought to herself, “That’s the man I’m going to marry.” They wed in 1968.
After completing teacher’s college and earning a degree in Sociology from the University of Western Ontario, Bill and Linda had two children, Christopher and Jessica. They moved to St. Thomas, ON, where they spent 22 very happy years. Many weekends were spent visiting Linda’s warm and welcoming family in Strathroy and their best friends Peter and Ruth Ann Jensen in Forest. One summer, they loaded up their station wagon and drove to Winnipeg where Bill was reunited with Bluebell and Joseph. And in 1986 over a succession of early mornings, Bill woke his kids before dawn and drove to Hawk Cliff in hopes of spotting Halley’s Comet. On the third morning, they saw it.
Bill spent the majority of his teaching career at Sparta Public School. His Grade 7 and 8 students wrote 10-page essays on George Orwell novels and Fellini films. They composed automatic poetry in cornfields. They built geodesic domes from straws and pins in homage to Buckminster Fuller. He encouraged his students—and everyone for whom he cared—to pursue whatever it was that made them sparkle. At Sparta, Bill met his third dearest friend—also named Peter: Peter MacLachlan—and a music teacher named Gillian Channer, who would become his second wife.
Bill and Gillian were married in Grand Bruit, NL—a tiny outport that has since been resettled. Along with their daughter Rebecca, they spent many summers there, forging lifelong friendships with some of the best people, including Tammy, Ches, Linda, Gord, and Joe, who ran the Cramalot Inn.
Though he’d spent a lifetime writing poetry, retirement in Port Stanley, ON, gave Bill the time to focus on it more fully. In 2006, with help from his daughter-in-law Stephanie, he self-published a collection of poems. He also had more time to play the drums, which he loved, and to travel, which he hated, along with games of any sort.
Bill was happiest talking about philosophy, history, politics, poetry, film, music, and art. Sometimes, it was hard for those who loved him to keep up. But we tried—along with challenging him, which he loved even more. There were often tears, from both laughter and heightened emotion. (Bill cried easily. He cried during movies. He cried listening to Bach. He even cried when the drummers Buddy Rich and Joe Morello died.) These conversations were best when slightly drunk, preferably on wine or brown liquor, and always under moonlight—like something out of a Li Po poem.
He believed nothing was odder than our existence and spent his life trying to unravel the mystery of it. Sometimes, this distracted him from the actual business of living. He was forever seeking the explanation that could satisfy, but never quite finding it. The nihilistic epithets of E.M. Cioran came close, as did a few Monty Python sketches. But in moments of rare certainty, he confessed that Epicurus probably came the closest.
He will be missed by his friends, including many who are not named Peter. He will be somewhat missed by his first wife, Linda. And he will be dearly missed by his second wife, Gillian, and his children and their partners—Christopher, Stephanie, Jessica, Simon, Rebecca, and Marco—and by his grandson, Benjamin.
A gathering will be held in the summer to celebrate Bill. In the meantime, if you care to make a donation in Billy Bump/Skipper Bill’s name, please do so to Mission Services of London, www.missionservices.ca/gift-in-kind, or the ICU at London Health Sciences Centre, www.lhsc.on.ca/icu/ways-to-give-intensive-care-at-university-hospital, where he received thoughtful and thorough care.
Now, hold your loved ones, encourage the older ones to keep up on those doctor appointments, and, if the mood strikes, raise a glass to Bill and read one of his poems.
The Children
It begins
With affection
And wanting,
Precisely,
Forever for their
Meadow,
And their ease.
It ends,
I suspect,
With dejection,
Likely,
And sadness beyond telling
To know what
Hunts them.
Odd, that I don’t mind my exit into
dark, and yet my children’s slippage
into shadow salts all the wounds
I ever hurt to have I want them
Here
Forever
Smiling
Laughing…
in whatever meadowlight my
love might conjure,
Deep in their summers.
Always.
Tuesday May 6 2025
Death notice for the town of: London, Province: Ontario
death notice William
Charles
Allen Tuesday May 6 2025
obituaries notice William
Charles
Allen Tuesday May 6 2025
We offer our deepest sympathies to the family and friends of William
Charles
Allen Tuesday May 6 2025 and hope that their memory may be a source of comfort during this difficult time. Your thoughts and kind words are greatly appreciated.
