The admirers of Bill Armstrong are legion. They seem to share in common this deep sense of indebtedness to a man they saw as a giant but whom they knew as a friend. Yes, their gratitude abounds and it is spontaneous. It gushes forth with little perceived effort the way a brook swells in response to the gift of rain.

I am one such admirer. My esteem, it occurs to me, is as profound as I think it can get when its object is someone not bonded to me through familial ties. Yet my friendship with this man was of the type shared I think by many, not by few. My qualifications to pay him tribute are modest at best. I know many of us feel this way.

But in a lucky encounter with the goodwill of Providence I became one of Bill’s friends. His friendship enriched me deeply, though it came with the sort of blushing apprehension that I could well be its sole beneficiary. It must be like that when you become friends with a great man.

Thank you, Bill. Rest in peace.