WILLIAM STOTT

Boompy... That's the name we called him ever since I've been alive. I have always associated my grandfather with his scary booming voice and blue coveralls. I remember our weekly family visits to this house in Lakewood. It was a ritual. We arrived in the morning and had breakfast at the Old Country Buffet. After we sat down to eat he would brandish his personal pocket knife to cut his cantaloupe wedges and then thoroughly douse them with black pepper. It was so peculiar, but it's a memory...

My darling Uncle Bill

He was my first boyfriend, my lifelong pal, and apparently, my perpetual chauffeur.

When I was a baby, he lifted me in his arms.
When I was a toddler, he "rode" me on his handlebars.
When I was a kid, he drove me in his Buick convertible.
When I was a teen, he rescued me in his '49 Chevy.
And my entire life, he carried me in his heart.

He never judged me.
He never lectured me.
He never called me fat.