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October, 2005 My
best friend, Bill Taylor, left this morning. He didn’t wait around to
say, “Goodbye.” That’s just the way he was, though. If he took a
notion to go somewhere, he just went. He had told me before, that he was
ready to go; and I knew that he soon would, even though I did not want him
to. Wild
Bill loved his life, and he lived it to the very end. No regrets.... “The
past? That was YESTERDAY!” he would say. Always, Bill lived in the
present moment, and he had more fun than most anyone I've ever seen. I
never knew Bill to say an unkind word to (or about) anyone. He thought
everyone ought to have the right to live the way they wanted to; no matter
what anyone else thought about it. He sometimes laughed at people and
their foibles, yet never more than he was willing to laugh at himself. He
saw humor in just about everything. He was the most accepting and
non-judgmental person I have ever known.
Bill thought all women were beautiful, and he had a way of
letting each one know that he thought SHE was the prettiest one in the
room. Girls of all ages lined up to give him a kiss or a hug, and he loved
every one of them, genuinely. Bill
loved to dance. Even after he could no longer hear the music, he
still could feel the rhythm. Late into the evening, if his steps became
less steady, still he moved smoothly, and with grace, through the slow
songs. His touch was as tender and gentle as if he were holding a
butterfly. Near the end of each waltz, he would squeeze my hand and look
into my eyes, smiling, “Oooh! This is HEAVEN!”. I
suspect he said that to most of his other partners, and meant it just as
sincerely. Women couldn’t help falling in love with Bill, even while
knowing his affections could never be fully captured. Bill
and I loved to talk politics. We agreed on nearly every point, and if
perchance, we did see things differently, he always made it clear that he
respected my opinion. He loved to “stir the pot”. He wanted people to
THINK about things. He could never understand the ones simply who did not
seem to care about the world beyond their front doors. He
was truly a citizen of the world, and he had seen most of it in person. He
liked to tell about his adventures in China and India, the Middle East,
South America, and Europe. “Oh, man!” he would wistfully sigh,
“those were the most BEAUTIFUL women!” .... and then, if things
turned serious, he would say, “Oh! Hey! Those are an intelligent race
of people! Don’t you ever think that they’re NOT!”
His respect for people was universal.
Sometimes,
he would talk about the enormous potential profit to be made, if one of
his designs should just happen to work. Between him and me, however, that
conversation always lead back to something we both agreed upon; that the
idea was far more important than the money. “If a guy has everything he
needs -- a warm place to sleep, plenty to eat, and a way to make a living,
what the hell does he need more money for?” he would shake his head,
uncomprehending.
Bill’s machine was a vision of world peace, where no person would ever be hungry, cold, or unable to go wherever they wanted to go, and do whatever they wanted to do. The way he saw it, if this thing worked, there would be no justification for war, ever again! I
loved Bill’s dream of that freedom-filled future. I didn’t know if the
machine would work, or not. I loved the heart that believed, as his did.
As we were talking about it, a few weeks ago, he told me that, if he
didn’t get it done, it would be up to me to get the job done. I’d be
the richest woman in the world, he told me. We both laughed at the
thought. As
much as I cherished Bill’s vision, he also nourished mine. No matter
what “brilliant scheme” I thought about following, Bill would listen,
share his ideas and observations, and then pronounce, “My god, girl!
I think you might be onto something, there. Do it!” In
the all-too-few years that Bill and I knew each other, there was only one
thing about which it seemed that we strongly disagreed. Bill was a man of
science. When I told him that I saw no contradiction between his
“scientific” view of the universe, and my own concept of a Higher
Power, he teased me for being “religious”. About “organized
religion”, we did agree; but when I tried to talk about things
“spiritual”, he simply laughed. Still, he was open-minded enough to
read a book or two that I had offered in the hope that these would clarify
what I was trying to tell him: that we agreed on the Big Items, if not
necessarily the semantics. In the books, he told me, he found little to
scorn, and he allowed that there are a LOT of things that humans don’t
know yet. Today,
for the first time, I feel like one of my arguments with Bill is vindicated. Today, my
beloved Bill left this plane, and I believe that he must now realize those
things I tried in vain to express; things he understood without knowing
them: that he is a divine child of the Universe, at one with All That Is.
Eternal spirit that is Bill lives on in my spirit, and in each of the many
hearts he touched with his gentle loving kindness, unconditional
acceptance, and generosity of spirit. He was the most enlightened person I
have ever known. I
miss him beyond words; truest friend a heart could have. Bon
Voyage, Wild Bill, Sweet William. Arla |
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