Bill Young is a true Custer icon

Man, this one hurt.
It was last Thursday morning when John Culberson called me and told me the news that Bill Young—the man, the myth, the legend—had passed away.
I was stunned. I was sad. I don’t even remember what I said to John. Something to the effect of “Oh my God...that sucks.”
It still sucks.
Nobody lives forever. However, if there were some alternate universe where you could nominate people to live forever, I would have nominated Bill Young. The world needs more Bill Youngs. If I can be half the man and a quarter of productive citizen he was, I would be doing pretty well.
I don’t remember exactly when I met Bill. I suspect it wasn’t long after I moved to Custer in 2001. Those of you who can remember that far back probably remember the football contest the Chronicle used to run. You had to pick winners of (I believe it was 10 or 12) games for a chance to win some meager cash.
Bill was a faithful player, and he came in every week with an entry for both himself and his son, Steve. I assume neither of them played for the whopping $15 you could win, but rather for the competition, the fun and, I would like to think, it was something father and son could do together.
Whenever Bill came in, he and I would shoot the breeze about the games in the contest, Custer’s upcoming games, and anything else that was the topic du jour. Bill always wanted to know how I was doing, what was new in my life. I always wanted to learn more about him, because he was such a fascinating human being.
I’ve written several stories about Bill over the years. Interesting people who do things are written about—and there are few people more interesting or who did more in their life than Bill.
One of the stories I wrote about Bill was for his induction into the Custer High School Hall of Fame, which took place 10 years ago. If you’re interested, you can find that story at  custercountychronicle.com/content/bill-young-also-being-inducted-hall-fame.
Another story I wrote about Bill was about him having fought fire in eight decades as either a volunteer or a paid firefighter. Eight decades of service. I thought it was unbelievable then. The more I thought about it though, it was very believable. After all, it’s Bill Young we are talking about here.
Bill was so proud of his children and his family. We would always talk about his children, and their children. Truth be told, I don’t really know any of his children very well at all. I know names. I know what they look like. I know them in passing.
But boy, do I know all about them.
That’s because Bill was so proud of them and what they’ve accomplished. Later, that extended to his grandchildren as well. I’ve lost track of how many conversations we had regarding Jojo’s athletic achievements.
Whenever Bill came into the office and I was in another room, the minute I heard that distinctive voice I came running into the room. If Bill was in the building, I had to talk to him.
I think what I will remember most about Bill—much more than the self-described “mediocre” athlete, the educator, the firefighter, the family man—is the kindness.
It was in this space around two years ago I paid respect to another friend, Don Kraus. If Don wasn’t the kindest person in Custer, maybe it was Bill Young. Let’s call it a draw.
A few months ago Bill stopped by our new office. I knew he was battling sickness, and was preparing for a surgery. I asked him how he was feeling. Of course, he said he felt good. That’s Bill. He had his trademark smile and redirected the conversation by complimenting the job we were doing at the paper. I could tell he was hurting. But he didn’t want me to fuss.
I told him I was thinking about him and wished him nothing but the best. As it turns out, that was the last time I ever saw him, and those were the last words I ever spoke to him—to wish him well. For that, I’m thankful.
I can say this without hyperbole—I have never, and I mean never, heard a single person say a negative thing about Bill Young. Ever.
Bill, you will be missed so much. Your warmth. Your smile. Your laugh. Your community service. Your knowledge. Your kindness.
Your kindness.
We’ve lost another icon, and we will grieve his loss. But I’m so glad my life path led me to cross paths with Bill Young. A better human being you will not meet.
Rest in peace, my friend.