An elegy to Bill Crawford: simple gifts
Though absent from among us during the twilight years, remiss would we be, not to affectionately recall what Bill Crawford brought us when with us.
On stage, he, with his best foot forward — and his levity, good humor, and basso profundo not far behind — sang in the Ecumenical Choir and gave memorable performances in the Extravaganzas (inimitably staged and directed by Toni Lemoine). An especially notable one which brought the house down was the “Quest for Santa Lucia,” a hilariously heartwarming standup comic musical routine.
Off stage, during brief but unforgettable encounters on the sidewalk, in the aisle, or at the checkout counter, Bill would graciously share a bit of his wit and good cheer. He was a master of the “double entendre”: if an attractive woman passed by or an “off-color” joke was told, he would quip: “That’s not for me, I’m in a state of grace!”
Beyond the banter and bonhomie, we could not help but take notice of his love and devotion to Jean, his lifelong companion of nearly 70 years, to whom he was ever faithful and (with a wink of an eye), “obedient,” and to his family whom — after graduating Annapolis and while in Uncle Sam’s long and loyal service — he adoringly transported around the world from one exotic place to another, while sailing the ocean blue, above and below the surface, by conventional or nuclear power.
For all this and more, done without bluster or fanfare, you, Bill, are now truly in a state of grace and have earned an endearing place in our hearts.
Thank you, with love and farewell.