Larger Than Life and Death

"Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!"

-Hunter S. Thompson

Sitting in a room cluttered with memories, I realize that I am grateful my father passed away. I know that may sound terrible, but hear me out. If he had not left this earth on September 5th, I would not be in his home right now going through his office, boxing up his life. Those of you who have read my posts know that my father and I did not always play well together.

I think my father and I were more alike than either of us ever wanted to admit. Stubborn, opinionated, hot-tempered…a recipe for disaster right there, but as I go through his things I am reminded why we also had, at many times in our lives, a delicate but definite admiration and respect for each other. When my dad wasn’t cursing at me and calling me names, he could be funny, gregarious, extraordinarily interesting, devilish, a larger-than-life personality, and a social butterfly. This apple didn’t fall far from his tree.

After he went to the assisted living facility shortly before his death and I had to help him dress, get up, move around, and whatnot with his broken arm, my dad would yell at me to stop enjoying his pain. Seriously, old man. If I wanted to enjoy your pain, I would have poked you repeatedly on your broken arm bone. That’s how you enjoy someone’s pain...and that’s how my dad and I communicated.

Now, as I sit on the floor reading documents, poetry, plays, letters to the editor, letters from old friends, cards from all of us, books he collected, and baubles and trifles he accumulated throughout his life, I am reminded how rich a life William John Gould, Jr. actually lived. The best thing I have found so far is a plaque from an Irish quote that reads- 'May you be in Heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.' Indeed.

One of my father's many passions, aside from his career as a federal investigator for the USDA, was to write poems to everyone for various occasions. Most were humorous, but some were seriously heartfelt.

He also became a playwright and actor in his retirement, and many of his works were performed in town by the Pelican Players, the local theater group here. The talent in his written word came to life on the stage and it was brilliant.

Portraying a gay artist in a comedy play

Portraying John Adams in a Forth of July Celebration

He wrote hundreds of letters to the editor, mostly about politics. He had some definite critics among the other frequent contributors, who nicknamed him Whack Job Gould. He signed his letters W.J. Gould, thus the moniker. He was delighted by the nickname and thought it was clever of the person who thought of it.

He was the campaign manager for Garry Mauro, who ran against George W. Bush for Governor of Texas. They had no chance to win, as most Democrats in Texas can attest to, but my dad gave it his all and loved every moment of it. He also worked on another Texas Democrat’s campaign, Dan Kubiak, who ran for the US Senate. He worked on a few local campaigns as well, mostly delighting congregants of the African-American churches in the county. He was in his element there, preaching politics and enjoying the spotlight. He said we Gould's were black Irish so we fit right in.

If my father were here today, we would be yelling at each other or perhaps not speaking at all- but instead, I am remembering the good things about him, the best times that we spent together, and the wonderful things that he brought into this world.

I will be printing a few pieces of his work in the coming days. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have.

P.S. Please note, I see my mom grieve everyday and my heart breaks for her. I would much rather my dad be here for her, but that is not an option. This is solely my point of view based on my life with my father.