Thursday, November 22, 2012

... is a day that makes me think of Bill each year. I will always be grateful for you letting me be your guest for my first Thanksgiving dinner ever. I had just moved to San Francisco from Germany, did barely know anyone and really appreciated that friendly gesture.
You'll always be missed.


Monday, July 19, 2010

¡Sigue a La Roja!

‘Viva la France’ was what I texted Bill as France advanced to the finals in the 2006 World Cup. I got a witty and thoughtful message in reply that put a smile on my face, as most of my interactions with Bill did. Those would be our last words exchanged and France would lose the game in a dramatic game and a 5-3 shoot out.

I fell in love with Bill during the late night/early morning matches of World Cup 2002. I stayed up to watch the games, not because I was cheering on any particular team, but because it was so much fun to hang out with Bill, especially during World Cup as he could be in a crowd of Brazilians routing for Germany and still be the most liked guy in the room. Brazil eventually made it’s way to victory and Bill and I began a romantic relationship.

It was always so easy to be with Bill although our relationship was not that ‘easy’. When it became a little too complicated, our romantic relationship dissolved but we stayed in communication. Our exchanges lessened to a text or email here and there but he was still one of the dearest people in my life.

I miss Bill.

¡Sigue a La Roja! Mi Corazon.

Carolina Santiago

Friday, November 07, 2008

Thoughts of Bill

Only few days ago we knew about Bill's death.

My name is Massimo, I am from Cagli (Italy).

I knew Bill and Joey White in 1997 with my wife Federica, during their first vacation in Italy.

It was a big and healthy friendship immediately.

They have been our dear friends.

We kept in contact, and some month later, they come back in Italy to spend summer holiday and to spend the New Year's eve with us. It was fantastic!! We had a lot of fun.

We had the difficulty of the language, we don't speak English very well, but the understanding and the intelligence of Bill eliminated every barrier among us.

Then we rarely felt us. He wrote me..."excuse Massimo I am always very busy with the job."

In 2004 I sent him the photos of our daughter IRIS.

Then in 2005 after death of my father. It's one of the last times we are written us.

In that year I lost the data in my PC and I couldn't to send him e-mail anymore.

I remembered "Bill" "William" but not his surname. For us, and for our friends in Cagli He was only Bill.

Saturday 1 November, I found Bill's address card of the WIRED.

Monday just in the office, I wrote his name to track him down and I read what happened.

You cried him two years ago, we do it today.

I translated and read the web "In memory of Bill."

I read yours thoughts and I had the confirmation that He was a special person.

Me and Federica have looked the photos of the beautiful days of vacation in Cagli.

We are touched remembering the friend Bill.

For a long time we didn't write us, but we knew that from some part to S. Francisco there was the friend Bill.

We'll always remember him in the magnificent days passed together, we'll always remember him like a great friend.

For me it was a big friendship.

He has marked in positive way our life. In our heart there will be always a special place for him.

Ciao Bill

Massimo Mosca

Cagli, Italy

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Old Mill

My Brother,
Missing sitting by the fire with you.
Missing seeing your reflection in the creak.
Missing your arm around me.
I miss you with my heart and soul.


Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Some recent remembrances

For those who haven't yet seen it, Josh Davis penned a feature story for last month's issue of Men's Health magazine, exploring the undiagnosed heart condition that led to Bill's death. The piece is both a great tribute to Bill and a fantastic work of investigative medical reporting. You can find it online here. Josh also appeared on an hour long program on KQED in San Francisco, to discuss the story and the condition together with two experts; you can listen to the audio here.

This past July there were a number of gatherings marking the first anniversary of Bill's passing, in San Francisco, Mill Valley, and Bolinas, with glasses raised in tribute much farther afield. In May, the Goggins family awarded the inaugural William O. Goggins Journalism Awards to two American Indian graduating students showing interest and promise in writing at Stone Child College, Rocky Boy’s Reservation and Blackfeet Community College, Blackfoot Reservation. Both colleges are in Northern Montana, a place to which Bill and his family have deep connections.


Wednesday, May 23, 2007

A sunny day in Bolinas

A couple of photos from Jorge Bachmann, taken in Bolinas on May 10, which Jorge and Bill share as their birthday.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

I would like to make this short and sweet.

Bill was part of my family. I lost touch with Bill when my sister Mary Jo and he broke up. I always remembered his birthday but I was lazy with making that call. Today I think of Bill and I am so proud of what he accomplished. I am so shocked that he is not here! Life is crazy! Missing Bill today!

In fond remembrance,


Wednesday, April 04, 2007

A Tribute to You, Billy

It has taken me eight months to commit pen to paper…not that I am still in denial about your death. More a suspended state of disbelief. I can’t believe that someone with such presence is gone. I miss you so much.

In many ways, I can still feel your presence. Your wise words and warm smiles are still with me. In the last few months, whenever I have been in social/conversational situations where I find myself a tad, well…bored, I imagine what you would say if you were there…your ability to add humor, perspective, silliness and/or constructive confrontation to a conversation was unmatched. Your combination of brains, banter and balls was a delight to witness in public, especially if there was a stranger who thought they could take you on.

On a spiritual level I can accept your moving on – your family and friends say that you were taken by the angels – this phrase helps me let you go. But on a selfish level, I am still really struggling. We had so many good times together in so many different places…oceans, forests, bars, nightclubs, restaurants, baseball parks, softball fields, basketball courts, subways…anytime I am on BART, or see Mt. Tam or go to a baseball game, you are foremost on my mind. In fact, everyday you are on my mind. We had so many long walks helping each other figure out our current predicaments, listening to the venting and spilling and confused wonderings and then responding in sympathetic and tough and real ways, helping each other the way old friends do, maybe being a bit more honest than we would have preferred, but as truthful as we needed to be.

I still wish I could have seen you one more time.

Your friendship has made me a better friend. You taught me how to listen by listening to me. Your gift of gab helped me better articulate my thoughts. Your ability to expand the contexts of a myriad of topics helped broaden my thoughts and perspectives. I know some people thought you talked too much (you often said this about yourself), but I never got tired of hearing you talk. After being with you during a 6-hour flight delay, my mom said that you were the best person to be stuck somewhere with. Sometimes just the challenge of following your threads and references was enough to keep me engaged. Hearing you make sense of the world helped me understand its senselessness.

The utter shock, loss and grief that I feel makes me think I took you for granted. Thank you for being in my life, for guiding me to better places, for being there every time I needed you…you were so present in my life in both emotional and pragmatic ways. I was lucky to meet you when I was still a boy because you helped me grow to be a better man.

The toughest thing to let go of is missing the last chance I had to speak with you…the night before you died, you called the house. I was on a work call and chasing Zak into the bath. Cynthia answered and you said no big deal, I could call you back. After Zak’s bath and bedtime routine, I was pooped and by the time I remembered to call you back it was late. So I figured I’d call you in the morning. I did, but you would never get the voicemail. I want that back. I want to speak with you one more time. I want to hear the latest from your life. You were in such a good and hard place. You. I want to hear you ramble on about your life and the middle east and foot long hot dogs and politics and porn and somehow link them all together in a sentence and have it all actually make sense. I want to hear you tell me to take care of Cynthia, Zak and Sean one more time, like you always did at the end of our conversations.

See, Billy, I told you I wasn’t taking this very well. I’m all selfish and me, me, me about your death. I wish I could be more evolved about it all. Your family has been such an inspiration. You must be so proud of them…your friends, too…this website, the articles, the run finishing the marathon…you really were part of a loving and creative and connected community. I just miss you so much. Writing this to you helps, but I want to hear a wise crack. I want to go to Mel’s with you and Jack and lie about a birthday to get free pie and a song from a cute waitress. I want your guidance and perspective. I want to see you being an uncle with Dominic and Lina. I want to go hoarse heckling professional ball players with you. I’m so grateful for all you have given me and shared with me. I could go on and on, but damnit, I miss you.

- Alex Atkinson