Whatever Happened to Bill Hill?
Remember? That scrawny scrapping white trash kid with the big mouth?
He’s the guy our entire junior high school class threw under the bus that one time. Not to worry, though– not for that instance anyhow– because it seemed that he couldn’t be flattened. Everyone in the classroom was interested in the answer but only Bill would ask the question. And we all just sat back and watched as he was led away to the office, and without even so much as a hint of compensation in terms of getting our question answered. Ah…what the hell…it was a long time ago, and I don’t recall the question anymore.
I assume the teacher was prophetic, that one other teacher, when he told Bill to his face in front of everyone that he would grow up dead or in prison. Still, I’d like to know. I do recall a time when virtually everyone our age was fundamentally on Bill’s side, the side I outwardly remain on today in this itty bitty corner of my life. It’s just that everyone else had sense enough to realize his battle was hopeless.
I look around me today and strongly suspect that I am the last one standing of the entire lot of us, in my weaselly two-faced way, unless Bill’s just in prison. And while I wait for my congratulatory telegram for having won the only fight a person ever fights that gets all of humanity’s participation, that of coming out on the other side of the socialization process with a part of oneself still free, I can marvel at this song of myself; at the fact that I actually wrote this.
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