The moments of grandeur for our metaphorical helium atom took place, when the History Channel was broadcasting THE MEN WHO BUILT AMERICA. No doubt about it, Bill Schwartz served as the positive nucleus, holding together me and the other electron. Oh, the three of us, together and individually, admired the achievements of the men, who had built their American economic empires, one in steel, another in kerosene, and a third in money … and all in the wake of the Civil War. Our attention was focused much more on Thomas Alva Edison and Nikola Tesla. Indisputably, Edison pierced the gloom of night. Whereas, Tesla keeps trillions light bulbs lit with alternating electrical current. Without the latter titan of innovation, our industrial world could have never come to be. Every time I turn on my Cuisinar, I thank Tesla. Even as a small child, Bill had an interest in technology. So much so, his older brother took him to view an airplane, somebody was building in his shed. While working at Links, where he got good performance reviews, he cobbled together enough money to buy a war-surplus Piper Cub, “tail dagger”. As his cable business prospered, with just his check book, he could trade up. The last aircraft he purchased was a low-wing Cardinal, and then later sold. Bill’s love of flying passed on to his son, the latter building and flying a plane, whose parts came in a kit. It’s a good bet Bill took a little pride in that. It’s a pretty good conjecture, he also took pride in his daughter. To fix some postal machine, she Googled the procedure. Funny, it seems that I, like maybe the reader, can be haunted by missed opportunities. I could’ve, I suppose, made my friend Bill chuckle. No doubt in my mind, he was in sore need of levity. During our final telephone conversation, I could’ve quipped like so: “Well, Bill, good buddy, you are Susquehanna’s answer to Bill Gates, that Microsoft multi-billionaire. And I mean that with a ‘b’.” This I may say, without fear of being contradicted. Piling up “treasures in heaven” may be laudable. However, he much preferred doing so here on earth, and in his own sweet time. In his own way, In dare say, he could be generous. Thanks to him, I published on Amazon (dot) com two books on the “brewing” of colloidal silver. Knowing my state of penury, he urged me to go that route. The consequent royalties would take care of my money problems, so he averred. In his mind, it was better to teach a man to fish than to give the poor sapsucker a fish … oh, and cheaper too. With regard to my writing, Bill took the time to read a novella of mine, which I’ll mention later in this piece. What’s more, I have it on more than just the word of the lady, with whom he shared living quarters for some thirty years that he was careful with a dime … “Getting money off of Bill is like kissing the bark off an oak.” In my considered opinion, both such attempts would be both silly and futile. A former customer, who had gone bankrupt, applied to him for re-connection to Tri-Boro Cablevision. Bill rejected the application, until the prospective customer would make good on arrears, still carried on the books. Bill fancied he possessed a soul very much like that of the characters Tom Selleck played on television. This I know, because Bill not only lent me the DVDs, he even gave me both the television and the disc player. .. oh, yeah, I should also inform the reader that he had also proffered the foregoing items to that aforementioned metaphorical electron, who turned up his nose. The nucleus with his two electrons made quite a trinity. So often so as to seem daily, we would occupy a spot in a restaurant on Main Street in Susquehanna, and spend anywhere from an hour to two discussing technical curiosities. There were, so he declared, only two circumstances things that would drive him to suicide, either the complete loss of his money or the sickening deterioration of his health. In the meanwhile, he enjoyed flying. I would say he pursued that interest with the determination, demonstrated by James Stewart in the movie WINCHESTER ’73. Somehow, that character trait of his sucked me and my brother Joe into taking flying lessons. Bill got a good chuckle, when Joe plowed into rows of corn with a Cessna 150. That incident inspired something similar in the novella, in which Bill found read about Vinnie Tal, proprietor of WHEELS GALORE. Besides James Stewart, Bill could also be associated with Mickey Rooney … oh, alright already, tenuously so, should you so insist. Well, there’s plenty of evidence to validate the hypothesis that the former child star never fully got over losing his then wife Ava Gardner. I know. I read that poor sapsucker’s autobiography. Hard to dispute, the aforementioned lady, with whom Bill shared living quarters, helped a lot. As much determination Bill demonstrated in flying, he showed even more in protecting his jackpot. He prevailed upon me to apply for a seat on the municipal commission that franchised Tri-Boro Cablevision. He wanted a friend on the board. Circumstances compelled my resignation. Yes, Bill did have his peccadilloes. He complained about what a spendthrift his younger brother was. When the latter need seventy-five thousand in ready cash to purchase a house on Riverside in Oakland, Bill lent the money. Incidentally, the loan was repaid. With regard to my brother Louie, whose operation to remove a brain tumor went sour, Bill with some old photos accompanied me on a visit in Wilson Memorial. I must report my family looked askance. Fortunately, they were informed that, sometimes, people in my brother’s situation would remember ever so clearly things and people from many and long years ago. On the word of his cardiologist, Bill could believe that he could live for three more years. That prospect failed miserably to delight him. At the time of his suicide, his eighty-five-year-old heart was two-thirds shot. Whenever he wanted to take a break from watching television and get a snack, he had to rely on a walker to get from his living room to his kitchen. And quite frankly, some of his concomitant suffering put me in mind of certain Bible passages. And I’m sure he was making up his mind to terminate his problems. I tend to regard his talking about the television sets he gave me and other people as rehearsal for how he would plead his case to Saint Peter. Well, here’s another lost opportunity that I suppose will haunt me. I could’ve assured him that, whenever I visit my brother Louie’s grave in North Jackson, I would be sure to stop by his. Finally, people reading this might be curious about my aforementioned novella. If so, they’re invited to click on this hyperlink: amazon/ILINX-Alexander-Stella-ebook/dp/B005FCAILE/ref=la_B005SG4EOO_1_10_title_0_main/192-5993636-6390517?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1405343969&sr=1-10
Posted on: Mon, 14 Jul 2014 13:48:12 +0000
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