Bill died.
Bill had cancer, beat it and treated every moment afterward as a gift. Bill wasn't the type to take up sky-diving or try to bed as many blondes as possible. Bill ate good meals, watched multitudes of documentaries, and enjoyed needling all of us.
The cancer came back. I didn't hear from him. I knew it was coming. I still wasn't ready.
You rested on your laurels at your own expense - Bill knew no respect. Bill's redemption? He knew that sometimes a person [b]believes[/b] and there is no justification; you believe with every fiber of your being. Bill held that in highest esteem. He pushed everyone, and he rewarded those who pushed back; he esteemed those who put their beliefs into deeds. He worked me harder than any other student ever will.
Since he did not believe in a higher power, I will not pray or light candles for Bill, though I wish him peace. I will miss saying, "yes, you think Zinn is wrong, but you need to know what he [i]says[/i] and Bill agreeing that I might be forty years younger than he, but that I'm right, liberals can be thoughtful, and that he should think about issues all the way through to present day, be it current events or tobacco planting in 1610.
Also his chicken recipe. It's tasty.
Damnit.
3 comments:
I'm so sorry. That was a lovely tribute.
I hope to have a tribute like that written about me some day. He was fortunate to have a friend like you.
And give me his chicken recipe, that it may live on. I need to contemplate making something besides death chicken for comfort food in the next couple of weeks.
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