RIP Bill McIntyre

I am sorry to report the passing of my great-uncle Bill McIntyre.

Bill was a Marine veteran of the Second World War. He fought in the Pacific, and had the battle scars to prove it. I think I remember him telling me that he ran away from home when he was only 15 years old so he could fight in the war, had to lie about his age. If he ever regretted that decision, he never said anything to me about it.

I hadn't seen him since my dad's funeral a couple of years ago, but understand he'd been suffering a lot lately. So, while his death will be mourned, it also may be considered a blessing.

I'm kinda glad I didn't see Bill in that poor state of health. I'd rather remember him from those childhood summers back in the early 80s when he and my Aunt Carol would have us over to their apartment complex over on Conway Road to enjoy the pool.

Of course, there was also the SuperBowl party in Bill's cramped apartment, complete with door prizes. I think Mom still has the Holly Hobby plate she won hanging on the wall of her kitchen . . .

And, there was also the time we all piled into Bill's RV to go to dinner at Black Hammock under the watchful gaze of red-eyed gators. That's where he taught me how to eat catfish properly.

The end is not the sum of a man's life. Rather, the full measure may be taken by collecting all the anecdotes from the lives he touched. I'm sure a lot of story-swapping will be done on Bill's account over the next few days, because he touched a lot of folks.

Rest in peace, Bill. You've earned it.