An Ode to Ramblin Bill

I was seventeen years old when my father, the man known as ‘Ramblin Bill, bought his ticket to the forever box. I don’t think of him as ‘dad’ or as ‘father’, because he wasn’t much of either one of those. Stomach cancer is one mean bitch and I watched him waste away from a jovial two hundred pounds down to a buck twenty in less than three months. Of course, that didn’t stop him from drinking and smoking while he spiraled down the drain. In those final days he often said, “I ain’t no damned quitter. Give me another smoke boy.” I’m not sure whether he wound up in heaven or hell, I just hope they have cigarettes and beer or else there will be some miserable dead people having to listen to him bitch and moan for the rest of eternity.  God himself may go looking for a gun just to get a bit of peace and quiet.

 I don’t miss him. It’s not that he abused me, or beat me, or anything like that, he’d have to be around some to be able to do that. It’s more like he just forgot that I existed. He was a rodeo cowboy, and he spent about fifty weeks a year on the road leaving me and momma behind in our little trailer house. He did send money to keep the rent paid and food on the table, but that was about it. All the kids at school seemed to know ole Ramblin Bill better than I did because they read all the stories about him and his exploits in the local papers. There was hardly a week that went by when he wasn’t featured in the paper for either winning another bull riding event or for getting arrested in another bar fight in the company of a hooker or three. 

So, when the day of his death came and he called me into his room and tried to impart some final wisdom, I really didn’t pay much attention and to this day I can’t really remember what it was he said. Mom forgave him I guess because she always let him come back home and I was a little sad about him dying, but the man that was laying before me was just some guy I barely knew. Mom and I buried him two days later and we never talked about him again and I didn’t really think about him much for the better part of a year. So how surprised do you think I was when on my eighteenth birthday the following year I got a message from Ole Ramblin Bill?

 I know what you’re thinking, but no, he didn’t write to me from the other side.  Ole Ramblin bill wrote this letter in the days before he died. 

Dear Billy Jr.,

Happy birthday Billy. I hope you’re having a good one, and while I’m thinking about it, seeing that you’ll be reading this after I’ve been planted, I hope I’m having a good day too!

I was a lousy father. I never gave you and your momma much of me and I followed my own demons and selfishness around this world and ultimately right into the grave. You both deserved a lot more than that. I’ve been thinking for weeks how to best share some things with you that might help you along the way. So, I’m going to tell you a story, and maybe there’s a nugget or two of wisdom that will benefit you and maybe you’ll get to know me a little better which just might help you know yourself a bit more. So here goes:

As a ten year old boy, Ramblin Bill was better known as Stuttering Bill and most of the kids thought he was feeble minded and needless to say there wasn’t a line of friends lining up at his door. He kept mostly to himself, walked home alone from school, and that just about broke his momma’s heart because Stuttering Bill just always looked so sad and lonely. So, one day she surprises him with an Australian Shepherd puppy. She was a red-tri with the happiest looking brown eyes you ever saw and that dog and Stuttering Bill fell in love with each other almost immediately. He named her Dora and they spent just about every waking second together. The dog waited for him everyday right outside the doors of the school and she would jump on him and lick his face and they would walk home together. He would tell her about his day as they walked home, and she’d look at him the way dogs do with her head cocked to the side like she understood what he was saying. It went on that way for about a year and then one day around mid-day during class Bill could hear a dog barking like crazy outside. He immediately recognized it as Dora. He raised his hand and asked if he could go to the bathroom and the teacher gave him a hall pass and he headed straight out the school door. Dora sees him and runs to him barking like hell.

“What is it girl?”

She barked again and starts head towards the road that would take them home. She stops and looks back and barks again.

“Is something wrong at home?” he asks.

Dora barks. 

Bill and Dora began to run the four blocks home and when they get there, Bill can see the front door is open. He rushes into the house, and he finds his mother on the floor, bleeding from her head and he sees a spot of blood on the side of the coffee table. She’s breathing, but it’s shallow.

“Mom,” Bill shakes her and she mumbles something he can barely hear. “Did you forget your insulin today.”

I’m going to stop there for now Billy. This is gonna be a four year story because I’m thinking maybe it’ll stick with you better over time. So, for the next three years on your birthday, you’ll get another installment. Adios till next year Billy!

Dad

My initial reaction upon reading the letter was that ole Ramblin Bill was losing his mind at the end. But over the ensuing days I came to realize there was a sweetness to it in that he was trying in his way to leave me something. I put it in my desk drawer and I don’t think about it again for the next year. Then the following year on my 19^th birthday, I got the next letter.

 Happy 19^th birthday Billy!

It’s been a year and I’m sure you haven’t thought much about the story I started. But now I’ll continue.

Dora saved Bill’s mom’s life that day. Bill was able to call the ambulance and his mom ended up just fine.  Bill’s mom began to recognize just how special Dora was and when she got back from the hospital, she cooked that dog a steak dinner fit for king. Over the next year or so things began to go a little better for stuttering Bill. Believe it or not, his stuttering began to improve a little bit, his mom thought that was because he’d spent so much time talking to Dora he was feeling more confident and the words just came out more clear and succinct with nary a stammer. Bill even started to make a few human friends. On most afternoons after school Bill would toss the frisbee to Dora and she would catch it while doing spins and flips and all the kids would watch in wonder and soon Bill started having an audience and he became known as the kid with the circus dog and before he knew it dozens of kids were walking home with Bill and Dora and Dora basked in the attention grinning all the while. But that didn’t stop Bill from having his daily talks with her. He told her everything. He told her about the girl named Lucy from his class that looked at him a certain way and he would feel a little flutter in stomach. He told her about the time he cheated in science class and how guilty he felt about it. He told her about the way felt about the man his mom had been talking to from church and how there was just something about him that Bill didn’t like. The man smiled a lot, but Bill didn’t trust that smile. He wanted Dora to meet him – that would tell him everything he needed to know.

That’s it for this year Billy. See you next year. Happy birthday!

After reading the latest installment, I held it for a minute realizing that my dad had never spoken of his childhood to me when he was alive and for the first time, I was starting to get an idea that there was more to him than just drinking and whoring. I put the letter in the same place as the first one, but I have to admit, I thought about it a little bit more for the next few weeks and then, it went towards the back of my mind. By the time my birthday rolled around the next year, I was actually looking forward to getting the next letter. 

Happy 20^th birthday Billy! I hope you’re enjoying the story – I know how much it meant to me to write it down so I’m hoping you see some value in it.

So, his mom decides it’s time to actually go out on a date with the churchman she’d been speaking to. His name was Harvey and Bill met him a couple times at church and although he always smiled and said nice things to Bill, there was just something in his eyes he didn’t like at all. His eyes were cold and dark, and they led to things Harvey kept secreted deep inside himself. Harvey comes to the door on the night of their first date and he’s wearing this awful gray suit that’s about two sizes too big and when he comes inside Dora immediately starts to growl at him. She’d never done that before. Bill’s Mom scolded her and acted embarrassed, but Harvey could see Bill’s reaction to Dora’s growl and he knew that he sensed something was off with him. Harvey tried to play it off and came over to pet Dora but Dora growled at him again, so Bill grabbed her collar and took her into the other room. That night after they got home from their date, Harvey came into the living room where Bill was watching TV.

“I get the feeling you don’t like me much,” Harvey says.

“I don’t know you,” Bill says.

“It’s important you and I have an understanding,” Harvey says, his voice low. “I like your mom and she likes me. I’d like to be around here more often but it’s important you and I don’t have a problem.”

He spoke to Bill the way a principal scolding a student would. Harvey slightly bows his head while looking up at Bill in a stern way which induced Bill to nod meekly.

“I expect you and I to become real pals,” he says. “Understood? Your mom don’t need problems from you. Deal?”

Harvey extended his hand and Bill just looked at it. 

“You shake a man’s hand when you make a deal,” Harvey says. Harvey grabs Bill’s hand and they shake and Harvey’s grip is like a vice and those cold, dead eyes of his stared into Bill.

Sure enough, Harvey started hanging around more often and although Dora still didn’t like him, she at least started to tolerate him. Within a year, Harvey marries Bill’s mom and he moved into their house. Bill always wondered why they didn’t go to Harvey’s house but his mom never said. But by the following year, the year Bill turned thirteen years old, he figured out what it was.

Happy birthday Billy! See ya next year.

For the next year I thought about my father quite often, wondering what was wrong with Harvey. I thought about sharing the letters with mom, but it somehow felt like I’d be betraying something my father was sharing privately with me. It didn’t feel right. I kept it to myself, and over the next year I dreamt of my father often. On the day of my 21^st birthday, I rushed to the mailbox to get his next letter and for some reason I had the feeling it wasn’t going to be there. But when I opened the box, it was right there. 

Happy birthday 21^st birthday Billy! This is a big one – you can drink legal now, but be careful.

Harvey ended up being a pretty bad guy. Bill came home from school one day and he hears this sound coming from his mom’s bedroom and Harvey comes out, clothes hastily thrown on and his hair disheveled. Over his shoulder Bill can see a woman buttoning her blouse, it wasn’t his mom. He’s about fourteen years at this time and he had a pretty good idea what was going on in there.

“Who’s that?” Bill asked him.

“Interior decorator,” Harvey says. “I’m surprising your mom by redoing the house. I don’t want to spoil the surprise so make sure you don’t say anything to her.”

“That’s no decorator,” Bill says.

Harvey sighs and glares at Bill. Dora begins to growl, sensing the anger building in Harvey. The woman finishes dressing and steps out of the room and she blushes as Harvey escorts her out the door. He closes the door and he turns to Bill.

“Listen to me boy,” Harvey says. “I don’t know what you think you saw. But that was a decorator, and I don’t want to hear another word from you about it. Got it?”

“Get out of my house,” Bill says. “My mom may not realize yet that you’re a piece of shit, but I do.”

Harvey’s face goes a beet red and he balls his fists up and he screams like a wild Indian and charges Bill but before he can take a step, Dora pounces on him and she sinks her teeth into his arm and Bill can hear the flesh tearing and now Harvey’s screams are of pain and fear for the dog. Harvey starts cursing at the dog and he falls to the ground and now the dog is attacking his legs and she’s biting him and Harvey tries to kick her off. She starts to attack Harvey’s groin and now his cries are of pure terror, and he reaches into his pocket and takes out a large pocket knife. Bill sees this and he screams at Dora to stop. Harvey fumbles with the catch on the knife, blood covers his hands and arms, and Bill takes two steps in an effort to pull Dora away but just as he gets there Harvey plunges the knife into Dora’s side and she yelps but continues to bite him so he stabs her again and now the dog backs away, blood pouring from her side. Bill bends to pick Dora up and he holds her and she licks his face but he could see her eyes dimming as her life bled away.

I stopped reading for a moment, wiping a tear from my eye. I think I hated Harvey more than my father ever could at that moment.  

Why would I make you sit through four years of this story you might ask? Because you need to know that life will be filled with heart aches and loss. Sooner or later we’re all baptized in grief and pain and it’s how we respond that determines where we go. Even though Harvey got what he deserved and Mom kicked him out, Dora died and a big part of me died with her that day. I held her in my arms and prayed for God to bring her back. The ambulance techs had to pry her away from me. I never got over it and because of that I never let anyone get close to me again. How’s that for a self-diagnosis? It really is true that when the horse bucks you off, you have to get right back on. I never did that in the parts of my life that truly mattered. And I regret that. I love you Billy, and I hope to see you on the other side.



I didn’t fold that letter and put it away in the desk drawer. I folded it neatly and placed it in my wallet. And there’s hardly a day that goes by where I don’t take it and read it at least once. Ole Ramblin Bill became my father, and I’ll forever miss him.

I