| |
Notes for WILLIAM JOHN MILLER:
Bill was a wonderful person, although somewhat mislead by the troubles of his youth. Being born to a mother barely able to care for herself at 13, he was adopted out, as was his sister. Even in the foster home, Bill had trouble adjusting. He had a wild, roaming spirit, and soon found himself in trouble with the law at age 15. He served his time and when released tried to create a life for himself. When he met my sister, Pat, they fell in love and married. As he entered our lives, we were all enriched by his laughter, his smile, and his concern that grew as we merged into one family. I spent many a night sleeping over at their home, sometimes to baby sit sometimes just to be around them. I grew to love Bill as a father, being that my own had been gone for what seemed like ages to me. He opened his home, his friendship and his love and allowed me in. I moved in with them at about 13 years. I sincerely enjoyed my time with them and wished it could have lasted forever. Bill was seriously injured in an accident at the foundry he worked at, and after many operations, walked away with most of his left hand missing. We moved up north on a farm to get away from the city life. It was 1968, Bobby Golsboro was singing "Honey" on the radio, Pat and I sat at the front windows of a bungalow in Antigo, Wisconsin, watching for the truck to arrive. With that truck came a new and more exciting life for us all, and the time spent on that rural farm will always stay in my mind as "boss". At first I had a hard time adjusting to rural life, no streets to maneuver, but being an outdoor person I soon came to love it. Bill, not being fit or able to work soon found himself in a Delima, one in which we would all awaken one day and everything would be changed. He began taking trips to Milwaukee, not that Milwaukee was bad or the trip itself, it was the intent that hurt us all and tore the family apart, for Bill decided to start robbing again and with that decision I became fatherless again. Pat held her own though, and wanted to wait it out. We moved into the city and Pat got a job as a CNA at a nursing home. I babysat and helped somewhat, but began my own destructive path, and in doing so found my self back in Milwaukee with my mother and siblings. Bill survived his second touch with the law, but lost his family in the end. He moved around a lot, one day announcing he was leaving for Florida. His oldest son Tim, went with, and in due time Billy, his youngest, followed. I never saw Bill again. A few brief letters or conversations scattered here and there, my memories, and my nephews and niece, these are what I hold dear. He will remain in my heart as a free spirited soul, one I will never forget.
|
