Our Neighbor Bill

I recently learned that my old neighbor in Lubbock passed away.  His name was Bill.  He was a lonely, old man who had severe C.O.P.D., who rode around the apartment complex on a motorized scooter, and who lived two doors down from Chris and I.  Bill spent most of his days sitting outside in the parking lot watching people come and go.  He had a pair of binoculars on the windowsill in his apartment, which I presume he used to keep watch when it was too cold to sit outside.

Bill didn't always have a motorized scooter.  I remember the day that he invited me into his little apartment to show me his new scooter.  Bill later told Chris that transporting the scooter to the apartment was somewhat tricky, requiring Bill's son to tow the scooter behind his car while Bills sat in the scooter steering it.  Bill's son apparently drove too fast while towing Bill across town, but Bill was unable to relay this information to his son because his C.O.P.D. prevented him from being able to yell.  I can only imagine that other motorists on the road were astonished to see an elderly man on a scooter being towed behind a car at a high rate of speed, with the old man unable to do anything about it.

One time Bill told me that he had to sell his prior home because "all the Mexicans" moved into his neighborhood.  This statement surprised me because Bill knew Chris and seemed to genuinely like Chris.  I kindly reminded Bill that Chris has Mexican heritage, to which Bill responded with some comment about Chris being a "different kind of Mexican."  Yes, Bill had a few racist slips here and there.

Just before I moved, Bill told me that he was going to miss Chris and I.  He told me that we were good people, and he asked to take a picture with me.  I obliged his request because if God wills that I live to be a lonely old woman someday, I hope that some nice, young couple living nearby takes the time to befriend me.