Over the last few days, I’ve had a couple of phone messages from my brother Bill that I couldn’t quite return just yet. (Forgive me, bro’, and read on…)
Tomorrow (May 16th) is his birthday. If I’m counting right, he turns 58! By the time he reads this post, he may have received the little token the rest of us sent in the mail, and I hope he enjoys it. That’s him on the right in the photo below, taken on Easter Sunday in 1955, perhaps. My youngest brother was still an infant at the time, and I have a sister who hadn’t appeared on the scene yet when that picture was taken, so Bill is in the “middle.” I see I have my Bible in my hand, ready to go to church (eek!) — too young to know, eh? — although I look happier than he does. These days he towers over me — how did that happen? For that matter, how did everything happen…
I already wrote about one of the phone messages. The other one came in yesterday afternoon while I was outside planting tomatoes. In it he mentioned the blog post (where he left a comment) and thanked me, saying [paraphrasing here], “Whenever you write about me, I feel better,” and that he loved me.
So Bill, this is for you.
You have a heart of gold that too few know about. You’ve never left the vale of tears that dominates our common heritage, because the chains are just too hard to break, or else that’s just the way you’ve been compelled to make your own path through the world. You’re “walking point” and carrying the shadow for us all.
When I was there with you in Tucson last summer, I think I finally saw you for who you are: bloodied but unbeaten, with an inner dignity I never noticed in the turmoil of my own upbringing and stumbling through the decades. You have an individual style and personality that makes me proud. You have a fine, big soul. I don’t know how any of us can make up for everything we’ve missed along the way for one reason or another. That’s something I’ve had considerable difficulty owning up to myself. All I can say is that the only thing that matters is right now, in the present moment, which is all there ever is, anyway. So right now, in front of the whole damned world, I salute William George Farr and dare anyone to say a word against you, ever…
Happy Birthday, Bill!
You sure as hell have earned it.
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Sweet! Happy Birthday, Bill! (Yeah, nice Bible, Johnny…..)
Happy Birthday Bill!