My boyhood friend, Bill Wagner, passed over to the other side several days ago, a victim of cancer.
As was his character, he fought the “good fight” for a year and a half, and was surrounded by close friends and an adoring family, who cheered him on as he battled the insidious adversary.
Although we were boyhood friends, Bill and I drifted apart when I left Houston to attend parochial school, later to attend college, work in real estate and soon thereafter, wander around about a bit.
He married an incredibly wonderful woman, Carter Baber, and had, with her, two beautiful children.
As things go in this American generation, he and Carter later dissolved their relationship and went their separate ways.
Both eventually remarried, happily, as I understand.
Bill remarried Susan, whom I met once, and was stricken by her depth of character and that their closeness wasn’t only physical but spiritual as well.
I remember Bill as working in the financial business but also remember him as an avid outdoorsman.
Once upon a time, as teenagers, I remember driving my father’s open-sided Jeep into a laguna in south Texas (too fast for sure) and spotting a group of Javelina, which fled immediately.
“Catch up! Catch up!” Bill shouted.
I did.
And as I gained upon the fleeing throng (about 30 miles-per-hour), Bill launched himself from the Jeep onto a lagging pig like a bull-dogger at the rodeo.
I didn’t see it all because I was driving; braking immediately when I realized my buddy wasn’t sitting beside me.
When I looked back, Bill was sitting on his rear in the short grass wrestling with this wild pig which, in short order, got the better of him and split for the woods.
Whereupon, Bill flopped onto his back and guffawed at the heavens, bloodied, clothing torn and covered in dirt and Javelina hair.
It’s something I’ll never forget.
That was Bill Wagner.
When my wanderings brought me back to Houston in 2005, Bill embraced me as though nothing had changed over the 30 years we hadn’t seen one another.
We lunched occasionally, and he told me his stories and I told him mine. Many not to repeated, don’t you know.
Such is the testimony to the man, his spirit and his love of life.
Though a distant friend now, I will miss you, Bill Wagner, as much as your family does.
Rest in peace, my friend.
