From Dave Smith
I had a good buddy, Bill Smith, during and after High School growing up in Miami, Florida. I lost track of him after moving to California in 1963. Now and then I would try to track him down to no avail. Then when Facebook came along I still could not find him.
A few months ago I decided to just enter Bill or William Smith and not add a location. There are a lot of Bill Smiths. Browsing around all of a sudden this photo appeared:
We started messaging. We reminisced about Bill’s 1957 Ford Station Wagon that frustrated us so much when every 1957 Chevy would beat us drag racing. We laughed about how we had ended up on opposite sides of the political spectrum. If I had stayed in Miami, would I now be a right wing gun nut who loves Trump and hated Obama like Bill? He had served in the infantry in Vietnam. I had joined the National Guard Band and applied for Conscientious Objector status before my 6 years was up. He suffers from Agent Orange poisoning.
Bill was a superb athlete. His father had been a football coach where he spent his early life in Pennsylvania, but he absolutely refused to play school sports where I’m sure he would have been a star on any team. Instead, we played a lot of pickup sandlot football and baseball around parks in Miami. I would always try to be on Bill’s team because, even though I was faster, he was bigger, and when I tried tackling him playing football without helmet or pads, he would get the ball and come in low and blast the shit out of me.
When I sent him a photo of me holding an Impeach sign next to a woman holding a Planned Parenthood sign in front of the Ukiah courthouse, that was it… he stopped responding.
We stay touch in now and then and I plan to visit him someday in Georgia.
Here’s my friend Bill…