An obituary in today's New York Times has stirred up guilty childhood memories and not a few tears.
As you'll learn from reading that obituary, Bill Porter was a salesman in my hometown of Portland, Oregon. He sold Watkins products door-to-door. Bill was much younger then, probably around 30. He came to our house about once a month. I was in my early teens, and I confess that I didn't like being the one who had to open the door when Bill came. I didn't know his name then. All I knew was that his slurred speech and jerky way of walking scared me.
How he managed to walk up the eight or ten steps to our front porch without falling was a mystery to me. When I opened the door he would hold up a sample of one of his products and speak in an almost unintelligible manner: "D o o o Y e e w w w W a a a n n t t T o o o B u u u y y y O o o n n n e O o o f f f T t t h h e e e e s s s ?" I'd always tell him we weren't interested, hoping he wouldn't come back -- but he always did.
Several years ago, this article about Bill appeared in the Portland newspaper, The Oregonian. Then ABC's 20/20 did a segment about him. I encourage you to watch it here. Then a movie was made about him, starring Bill Macy. I later learned that Bill's assistant, Shelly Brady, had attended the same church as our family when I was growing up.
I have tender feelings towards this extraordinary man after reading those articles and watching that 20/20 segment. I marvel at how incredibly resilient he was, and I regret very much the negative feelings I had about him when I was an uncaring teen.
From Bill Porter I've learned that we need to look past peoples' outward infirmities and see the real person within. You may not have been able to button your own shirt cuffs, Bill Porter, but you're a better man than I am.
No comments:
Post a Comment