On losing a Buddy

Nicknames can be a burden to bear, or they can be a temporary handle your friends use to ID you, but rarely do they last all that long and they are seldom used or even known by more than a few people.  A chosen few, however, are given nicknames that become so universally known; they actually take the place of their given name.

Such was the case with one William Harold Hall, better known as Buddy Hall.  In fact, Buddy may be the only name many have ever known him by.  Truth is, the man is my first cousin and I was on this earth for quite a few years before it dawned on me that wasn’t his real name.  Go figure.

Well, this nickname that became Buddy’s surrogate first name could not have been more appropriate.   Yeah, I know, the word “buddy” suggests several meanings.  One way it’s used is a one-size-fits-all handle for strangers, as in “Hey buddy, wanna pass me that ketchup?”  But perhaps a better known definition is someone who is your special friend, perhaps even your best friend.  And that is what comes to mind when you think of Buddy Hall.

Buddy was a special person and he was blessed to have had some special people in his life.  He married his childhood sweetheart, nee Betty Keene and they had a wonderful family together.  Buddy worked in the coal industry, where he reached the position of mine superintendent, most notably for Pittston Coal.  I remember when he was super at one of the Eastern Mines, and later he worked the same position at Kentland Elkhorn.

I had one of my first jobs when Buddy lived on Upper Pond Creek.  I worked for John Ward then.  Buddy got my boss to install a fuel oil furnace for him.  We’d get there on the Dinky Road, my first time on this, uh, short cut.

As I’ve said, Buddy epitomized the better meaning of his nickname.  He was a buddy to anybody who need a shoulder to cry on or some spiritual advice.  That was the one thing he specialized in after he took up his last calling, that of Minister.  He was there for my family when my brother Steve passed away.  He stood in for me when my Mom broke her femur and had to have surgery.  She and I were in the ER from 8pm until 3:30 the next morning and I was obliged to get some much needed rest.

Buddy was always ready to come to anyone’s assistance and never did it to get into the limelight.  His good deeds were often done out of sight and known only to those whom he helped.  But that was the way he wanted it.  His reward for helping others was that he was able to help them.  He never asked for more.

Buddy passed away this last weekend, just a few days after our annual family reunion at the Breaks.  His passing leaves a legion of friends who cherished him and grief-stricken family members who must now go on without him.

 A tribute to him on facebook says it all:  “What you leave behind is not what’s engraved in stone monuments; it’s what’s woven into the lives of others.”  Buddy left behind a tapestry of incalculable beauty.