Thoughts on Bill Welch
How can you not love a man who loved Buddy Holly, the rock-and-roller who inspired my sister to name her doll ‘Peggy Sue,’ made this spectacle-wearing teen feel
a trifle less nerdy, and penned the achingly beautiful True Love Ways? Like Holly, Bill was taken from us before his time, and I wish he had lived long enough for me to say these things to his face. Eulogies are wasted on the deceased. They
are rotten audiences.
I was not surprised to learn that Bill was an ordained minister. His
homilies on acrylic paint and resin kits made me a believer. So too was his gospel of “Extreme Modeling,” Bill’s dazzling
attempts to create, in miniature, each fine, microscopic detail of a prototype. I recognized that this meticulous harvester
of plastic rivets was a man whose obsessive-compulsive disorder made my OCD look almost normal. And, quite aside from
Bill’s content, was his style, his seductive south o’ the Mason-Dixon Line drawl… as smooth and persuasive as slow-sipping a glass of Southern Comfort.
I thank him for his expertise, his inspiration, and his kindness. His
love of the hobby has enriched both my modeling and my life and, as Buddy Holly put it, brought “joys to share with those who really care.” While
I’m not entirely certain there is an afterlife, I’m pretty certain that, if there is, I’d like to go where Bill goes.