Eulogy for Bill
My brother and I lived in different
worlds. Separated by distance and culture. I did not know him very well. I didn’t know what books he read, if any;
what music he liked, or even if he liked music; or his political views. What I do know is that he was a decent
man. I define decency as doing no harm
and making a contribution to society.
Doing no harm is a baseline. Bill went in a positive direction from this
baseline by always being helpful to the people he came in contact with. His major contribution to society was his
day-to-day gift of bringing joy and good will to all who passed his way. He gave the gift of guidance to his children
that they became decent people in his
image. He was a loving son, husband, father, son-in-law. (I’m having trouble
using the past tense.)
Childhood
memories have faded over the years to mere wisps: Long summer evenings playing
hide and seek under the street light on the corner, the “secret Passage” behind
the neighborhood garages, the adventures in the woods behind the school. We had
our usual sibling squabbles and territorial disputes but we managed to get
through it without killing each other.
In
adolescence we began to develop our own interests. Bill developing his people
skills, Jack his athletic skills, and me and my books. My recollection of high school years is that
the three of us were pretty much doing our own things.
After I
went away to school I have fond memories of the summers at home. Most every weekend we would triple date: Bill
and Sandy, Jack and Barb, Donna and I. I
always got stuck driving the “Old Chief ”.
However I always had the rearview mirror adjusted so I could keep track
of what was going on in the backseat. On
special occasions we would go dancing at Moonlight Gardens at Coney Island or
the Pavilion at Ault Park. Then there were the drive-in movies. I’d best leave
that alone. We would generally end up at
the Sky Galley at Lunkin (Spelling?) Airport.
Many times we were asked to leave by the guy with the mop bucket.
Bill visited my world a few times,
mostly with his family. However there were two special occasions when there
were just the two of us. The summer
following my graduation from college I took a job in northern California. After much fussing over the car and our gear
by our Dad, Bill and I took off camping across the continent. After many adventures, the last night found
us camped at a beautiful cirque lake high in the Humbolt Mountains of Nevada. When Bill talked of that night his
remembrance were that of the mice running over his sleeping bag all night. The next day we dropped down into Reno. Bill
flew home and I continued on to Susanville, California. The Second special trip
was more recent, to southern Utah. We
spent a week on a houseboat on Lake Powell with my lunatic fire fighting
comrades. Good Booze, Good Food, Good
Company, Fair Fishing.
I had always hoped for one more
road trip. Perhaps with our sons.
Perhaps to Sante Fe, Frioli Canyon, the Kiva at Aztec, Mesa Verdi, maybe
even Chaco Canyon. But alas, time ran
out. Sleep in peace, my brother,
perchance to dream.
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