Very sorry to hear the news. Bill was a good friend. We talked as recently as June, on email, remembering our days working together in the business section of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, but mostly our days of playing golf, a game at which Bill was purely horrible. He and I and my young son, Drew, age 10, played on many wonderful Sunday afternoons, Bill shooting 10 and 12 on holes with club selections that defied convention, reason and sanity. He was hysterical. Bill was incredibly generous. Once, after my divorce, when every day was a financial struggle, I had dinner with Bill at his place. After dinner he went into a back room and came out with a paper sack and said I want you to have this. I looked in the sacks and it was stuffed with wads of $1 dollar bills. I said no, no, no. But he insisted. When I got home I counted the money. More than $250. In our emails in June Bill and I recounted one of the funniest Thanksgiving dinners in history, at his house in Smyrna, with friends and a big cat prowling the premises and scaring the heck out of everybody. I had a sore stomach the next morning from laughing so hard. Bill, I miss you; everybody who knew you misses you. My regards and condolences to your family. You will carry on in our memories, and for me, beyond that, carry on in laughter. For years I've smiled and laughed remembering our days over dinners and on the golf course. I'm not sure what club it takes to get from here to the hereafter, and I'm pretty sure you picked the wrong one -- but made the shot, anyway.