Bill,

I was shocked when I got your e-mail about this. I had no idea that Bill D. was in any way close to passing. I will miss him and his commentary, and I'm glad I got the chance to work with him in some small way.

Godspeed, Bill Dodd.

Bill, thank you for your rememberance. Bill was my father. Although I never really met him until I was 12, and had a contentious relationship with the man, there has probably been no other person who has so influenced my life. In albeit small ways, he showed me how to be a man when I longed for some explanation of what that meant. He also showed me the beauty of words at s young age, although I generally ignored that, to my deficit today. But most importantly, he was my father, and was a strong and noble man. And in that I found and continue to find, both in myself and through my children so, so much strength and passion and love of knowledge and beauty. I miss him terribly. Any readers of this should know: Bill Dodd had everything against him growing up and through much of his adult life. What he had going for him was love: of poetry, of beauty, of the land, of mandkind, and of his family. I love you Dad.

Its sad when you here a good friend is passing especially when its so unexpected.. I will miss you and his great commentary and all he hard work..

I wanted to share my feelings on my Uncle Bill. He would absolutely be intrigued by the notion that on a site where he so often reflected on many subjects that he would now find himself the focus of so many others' reflections.

A few paragraphs are woefully inadeqate in successfully capturing the full breadth of a single life let alone one as full as the one Bill Dodd lived but
hopefully, while I'm nowhere near the master wordsmith he was, I can provide a fitting tribute that he'd be proud of.

As I compose this I still can't believe he is actually gone. I most likely feel this way since I always saw Bill as a larger-than life force of nature akin to the mountains in Colorado he enjoyed so much with his brother Joe in their youth. His tenacious spirit I believed could conquer anything through its sheer will--and for most of his life it did--whether his struggles with alcohol or his rocky relationships such as the one with his father Coy.

As anyone who ever knew Bill can attest he had a fiery temperament and all of us from time to time would get a little singed. Some might have found that to be a negative trait in a person. I actually saw it as a manifestation of his passion. He was passionate about so many things--passionate about his
family, passionate about his teaching, passionate about knowledge, passionate about politics, passionate about his writing, passionate about debate. I also respected his frankness--he didn't pull any punches--which was refreshing in a time where people can go around with facades.

If one were to size the man up by his temperament alone they'd overlook the fact he was also a gentle vulnerable man whose life path was filled with
its fair share of chugholes and non-surfaced corridors; a dedicated son who loved his mother Bessie dearly; the vigilant older brother keeping an ever
watchful eye over his younger sometimes sickly brother Joe; the devoted husband of nearly 40 years to Dorothy; the imperfect but loving father to Quin, Creeley and James--he loved you three more than you will ever know; and proud grandfather.

He also was there almost as second father for my brother Jonathan and I in the wake of my father's death--his younger brother Joe. He stepped forward and was there as a sounding board, a long distance shoulder to lean on and a comforting last link to my late father & grandmother Bessie in one of the most difficult periods in our lives.

While we hadn't seen each other in years we spoke almost everyday. In his later years he retreated to his little desert haven in Las Cruces where he'd write. We usually talked for a half hour or more musing on the latest bit of political fodder Washington effortlessly offered up or bemoaning the sad state of our "culture"or decrying the duopoly masquerding as real democratic choice --inevitably sprinkled into said conversations would be the liberal use of "goddamn"--a declaration if I didn't know any better was one my Uncle Bill fondly coined. Knowing Bill you can imagine how lively those conversations were and what usually capped the end of most conversations was one of his memorable trademark hardy laughs(which still echo in my head) indicative of how he viewed the absurdity of it all.

I'll miss those daily debates and hearing what he thought about the latest news of the day. Many turn to John Stewart, Chris Matthews or O'Reilly for their take on the day's events but I found Uncle Bill to be far more efficient with words and far more insightful than any of those bloated talking heads.

But probably my favorite conversations were devoid of politics--the conversations where he recounted his youthful adventures--some might even call misadventures--such as the time when he began shooting arrows off at his brother over a football game disagreement or the time he walked into a classroom as a substitute teacher not with a briefcase but with a Scotch-filled flask trying to explain to the principal on his way out that it was either that or pitching the little bastards out the window--all of which could have made wonderfully interesting stories in a memoir.

Alfred Lord Tennyson once wrote that he dipped into the future and saw the vision of the world and all the wonder that would be--with Bill's passing our world got a little less wondrous--goddamn.

We'll both miss you

For Bill--Dec 23, 2009

He left me in the month of the two full moons

The Blue moon rising on New Year's Eve

The inevitable new beginning

He came from a hard barren often cruel place

I met him amidst firs and coastal ocean spray

He was my love

My troubadour

My wild Texas poet

How do I now face this ecliptic journey alone

I will always love him

More than he would have asked

--Dorothy

Thanks Bill Pearlman for yr statement for Bill Dodd, an old friend and fellow lover of poetry back in those volatile years in Albuquerque (60's) who kept alive spirited discourse and passionate living . . . He gave me a wonderful story Se Marier which I published from duende press and we went to the Berkeley Poetry Conference in 1965, what a trip! His humor, his laugh and that sharp sharp wit! I'm so grateful for our friendship those years back . . . and so sorry to hear he has left us . . .