There Goes A Man

I've known the Mitchells all my life and being the quintessential Southern family that they are, I have always felt I belonged to them just as much as my own family.  While the most reticent member of the Mitchell clan, the head of it Mr William was the comedic genius straight man to Denise, Will, and Allison's slapstick routines.  Mr. William had the most subtle, dry and intense sense of humor I've ever come across--you'd better be paying attention or you'd miss it--he had me cackling a number of times when I would get stares around me from the folks NOT paying attention to this incredibly hilarious man.  When you get the chance, you definitely have to ask Justin Kalweit about the "He Aint Got No Pants On," song.

While completely hilarious, Mr William was the epitome of "calm, cool, and collected," even when chaos surrounded him (which was frequent at the Mitchell house).  Mr William was always CHILL.  My most memorable example of this and which has forever made Mr William my buddy was a Saturday afternoon back when Will and I were in high school and just starting to drive (legally).  I was over at the Mitchell's probably being a human paintball target for Will.  As I was leaving, in typical teenage fashion, I was more interested in the radio than what was behind me and back into a ditch, ripping the tire off the rim and dismantling the sideview mirror.  considering my own parents' reaction to such a deed, I immediately began to panic about telling Mr. william which I inevitably HAD to do, considering the condition of the car.  I eased into the house where Mr. William was watching TV and explained to him what I had done.  He calmly got up, walked outside and declared in the most unenthusiastic and monotonous tone, "well, you sure did get it stuck," and then being a man grounded in common sense asked me, "why didn't you turn the car around insted of backing out?," to which I had no response except a shrug.  Then, still cool as a cucumber, Mr. William used his tractor to extract my car from the ditch, put my spare on, duct-taped my mirror in place, and sent me on my way to my own parents who were predictably less calm about the situation.

Mr. William was what I would consider a Renaissance man--a well-rounded individual, knowledgeable in all things and while he didn't talk a whole, whole bunch, there are few subjects that he would have been unable to hold a conversation regarding.  I know one thing for sure--he made the best boiled peanuts I've ever had.  I've thought a lot about Mr.William in the last week because I bought my first motorcycle, a Harley, last Friday, and Will and William were the first Harley owners I ever knew.  Mr. William was also just over at my house last week helping my sister with a motorcycle incident; so not only did he help ME out of jams but Lauren as well, which means more to me than he could have ever known.

While my heart is heavy for those of us who knew Mr. William, I feel Driggs and Bridger are the most slighted by his passing.  We've had years to absorb this extraordinary man--they only got a glimpse.  All of us as Mr. William's friends have an on-going obligation to fill the minds of these boys with our favorite stories about their Bop so that they can know their grandfaja was one of the coolest cats to ever strut upon this Earth. Mr. William's  untimely passing brings to mind a Mark Twain quote that I read on Will and Rebekah's wedding invitation nearly five years ago:

There isn't time--so brief is life--for bickerings, apologies, heartburnings, callings to account. There is only time for loving, and but an instant, so to speak, for that.

I hope every one of us starting today can do everything possible to cultivate the immense respect that this man did for himself in his short time here.