Bill was one of my friends I’ve known since kindergarten at Daniel Dickinson. When we all walked home en masse, we stopped at his house first, since he was less than two blocks away. Actually, we stopped at the candy store across the street from his house, where I usually bought red shoestring licorice.
High school was full of cliques, but Bill was one of those people who got along with the jocks and the politically active freaks. Yet he was always able to be his own guy; I admired how he negotiated that. He was, unsurprisingly, senior class president.
A bunch of the Dickinson kids attended our 10th-year high school reunion, and it was actually quite a bust; i.e., boring as all get out. But some of the Dickinson kids decided to get together ourselves. Some months later Carol, Lois, Karen and I all descended on Bill’s house. We went shopping for food, stayed up all night talking and eating. It was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had.
A short time later, I went to his wedding. Don’t remember the service, but I do recall the reception was in a chalet near here.
When we had our 32nd-year reunion(!), it was a better-organized event, or maybe I viewed it differently. Still, it was seeing Bill and the other Dickinson kids that made the trip worthwhile.
Bill and I don’t live that far away, yet fail to see each other that often. I took a train to New York City one time and ran into Bill. I’ve met him unexpectedly other times as well.
Happy birthday to friend Bill.