William taught my wife Syntax over zoom loudly and too early on Saturday mornings. I’m sure she had the zoom on one of the lowest settings, but I imagine that voice just carried. As though that blast of a human being could not be contained, and don’t even bother trying. To me, a room away, not understanding the intricacies of Syntax?
I’m sorry, my wife read the first draft and made me change it from the other version where I called it “Morphologics?” Because that was the best I could do. But that “wasn’t correct.” He taught syntax. Teachers. Surrounded by teachers every day of my life. Thank God, but still.
William was loud and he screamed I CARE with every breath in his body. I care about what I’m teaching right now, and I care even more about you. 
I never even met the man. I’ve got no right to even be typing this, but I’m crying anyway, so why not. That fast? Really? Gone? 
Rest in the peace you absolutely deserve, William. Thanks for showing my tear-streaked wife how to organize the tables of “Blorphology” or whatever. 
And no, I don’t know precisely what that means, but there’s not a doubt in my mind that he and everyone who ever heard him talk about it are absolutely doing their goddamned best to make everyone’s lives so, so much better, all the time. I’m so grateful for all of them. For you.
Thank you, William. We’ll shake hands eventually.
Michael McGovern
Small-town Radio D.J.
Northern Wisconsin

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