Guest Book

Let It Be and Bill Ector April 26, 2010 When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, Let it be. On July 9, 2008, Bill Ector passed away. He was 56. The memorial service was held in the auditorium of the old Marietta High School. It was a beautiful celebration of his life with eloquent tributes from family and friends. Gifted musicians played. Those in attendance were a great mix of ‘old Marietta’, aging long hairs, young people, and Allman Brothers‘ fans. I think of Bill a lot. I think about the short time we dated and were friends. I think about his impact on my life. Now, I am Catholic. We believe in saints. We pray to them for help and protection for our lives and to intercede to Jesus on our behalf. I find myself talking and praying to Bill. I am sure I am not alone and many others think of him too. Scripture tells us that whoever loves is born of God and knows God (I John 4.7b). If those words are true, then Bill and God are best friends and have been a long time. For Bill was one of the most loving and kind persons I have ever known. Many spoke of this shared experience of him at the service: next door neighbors and friends from kindegarten, classmates from Marietta High School, young friends of his children. Bill’s love of others was the common denominator of us all. I didn’t know Bill had started a magazine for the Allman Brothers’ fans called Hittin’ the Note www.hittinthenote.com. He was the publisher. I love the name of the magazine because the Allman Brothers hit the note so very well, but I like even better its subtitle, “Because Music Matters.” I remember Bill called me when Dwight Allman died. He was crying. I didn’t really know what to say and tried to offer simple words of comfort through the telephone line. Many years later, we would run into each other again. We sat in his truck and chatted. I was a minister and mother who had put on considerable weight since our first date when I was fifteen. He was bald–a fact I didn’t know until he took off his ball cap. He didn’t have to take off his hat but I know he did it on purpose to make me feel more comfortable, as if to say “See, I too have aged and changed. It doesn’t matter. It’s ok.” This small gesture of grace was one of hundreds, thousands, which I believe formed his life and touched the hearts of so many with the rare gift of unconditional love. Bill was an incredible musician. When he took me home, he would often come in and play our piano by ear and sing. I remember when he got his first twelve string. One of his classmates at Marietta High shared the story of how the senior class wanted Let it Be played at their graduation. This was 1970. Not surpisingly, the principal and guidance counselor were opposed -in the generational conflict typical of those times. The story goes that in an assembly, Mrs. Lee argued, “No one even knows how to play that song.” To which, a classmate rebutted, “Bill does.” In a few moments, urged on by his peers, Bill walked up on the stage, sat down at the piano, and with his usual grace and ease played the beautiful Beatles‘ song Let it Be perfectly.The case was closed. They heard it at their graduation. When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, Let it be. I often find myself in times of trouble. Life is difficult and full of disappointment and darkness. We need saints-the ones who walk beside us now and the ones to whom we pray. I like to think of Bill and his love of music and the magazine’s subtitle, Because Music Matters. Music speaks to us in a way which words fail. It is the “language of the angels.” I don’t think of Bill as an angel. He was too earth-bound for that. But I do think of him as a saint as I recall his gentle, kind spirit. I know that in him music and love are forever and inextricably intertwined.