Posted on 12/15/2020 5:32:08 AM PST by Kaslin
Editor's Note: This column was authored by Walter Williams' daughter, Devon Williams.
In the late 1980s, when telemarketing was at it is peak, a company called our home during dinner. I picked up the phone and handed it to my dad. This is what we heard him say:
"I'm not interested."
"No. No, thank you."
"Well ... I'm not ever going to die."
And then he hung up. My mom and I looked at each other, and then him, with looks of incredulity. He explained that it was a company selling life insurance.
For a long time, I believed just that -- that he was not going to die. That he would be here dropping knowledge on me, my family and the rest of the world forever.
I have always understood my father to be a teacher, a college professor. And, at the core of it, that's what he was: a teacher. And he loved being one. So, why, in the days that followed my father's death have things felt surreal? I've spoken about my dad to reporters from The New York Times, The Washington Post and The Wall Street Journal. I've spoken to one of the greatest minds and prolific writers this country has to offer: Thomas Sowell. I've heard from Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas, real estate developer Harlan Crow and businessman Charles Koch. I've read hundreds of tweets, posts and emails from his students, politicians, educators, philanthropists, authors and reporters. You might intuit, that hearing from all these people demonstrates that maybe Dr. Walter E. Williams wasn't just a professor. That maybe, because of his profound effect on so many people, he was something more. I would argue that the essence of my father was that of an educator. In fact, many years ago, my dad told Dr. Sowell, "On the day I die, I'd like to have taught a class." Teaching was his passion. It was his gift. It was, second only to his family, his greatest love.
Some of the obituaries I have read have called my dad a giant. He was. Literally. He stood at 6 foot 5 inches tall. My mom and I used to joke that it was always easy to find Dad in a crowd: We just needed to look up. An athlete well into his 70s, he took advantage of his stature and long limbs and played tennis and basketball, but his favorite activity was cycling. My mom would pack him snacks the night before, and he would set out for a 30- to 50-mile ride around 5 a.m. (when she and I were still sound asleep). I think that he enjoyed the time alone with his thoughts and his bike. Often, after a ride, he would shower and get straight to work on his syndicated column or his classwork for the week -- clearheaded and ready to go.
Not only, however, was he physically a giant but he was an intellectual giant. In his lifetime, he wrote 10 books, hundreds of articles, book reviews, scholarly journal articles and more than a thousand weekly columns. And, while proud of his accomplishments, with every book, he'd tell me, "I still don't think I'll catch up to Tom (Sowell) ... he writes with both hands." He also gave hundreds of lectures around the world -- Johannesburg, Cambridge, London, Tokyo, Hong Kong and many more nationally. Additionally, you could find him on TV and radio. He called these venues his "big classroom." Economics is a challenging and abstract discipline that includes sophisticated analysis and calculus. But my dad had a supernatural ability to breakdown complex ideas and make them digestible for everyone.
As a father, he was also a teacher. My dad taught me that hard work eclipses talent or natural gifts every day of the week and twice on Sunday. He taught me how to drive like a Philadelphia cabbie and how to parallel park in a space equal to the length of my vehicle. He taught me that the best time to look for a job is when you already have one and that opportunities are often masked as disappointments. He taught me that play is necessary, but that it's more fun when your work is finished. He taught me to love my life and the people in it. He taught me to drink the wine and not to save it for a special occasion. And he taught me that family is always my safe place to land.
When my dad was in Philadelphia and not with us in D.C., he would call me and ask, "How's my baby?" I would tell him, "I'm just fine, Dad," knowing full well that he was asking about my son. They shared a special bond, and it pains me greatly to know that they only shared six years together.
We will all miss Dr. Walter Edward Williams. But I'd like to think that through his dedication to his teaching, the reach of his students and profound effect he had on so many that, maybe, his statement to the life insurance salesman was true.
Nice read, sans the Koch swampie reference...
Nice article, RIP.
RIP, Walter Williams. You were one of the best.
Hard to find anyone with common sense these days, he was one of them
His daughter did a good job sharing her Dad and her memories. Walter Williams was one of the best.
What a wonderful eulogy by his daughter. She expressed her deep heartfelt love just perfectly.
A great host on Limbaugh’s show. I’ve heard many eulogies. I think he’d be disappointed that none of them mentioned that he was, indeed, a very handsome man. RIP.
I use to listen to him when he subbed for Rush. His sense of humor reminded me of Mark Twain.
Thank you!
Dr. Williams will be very much missed. I often had my students read his column for weekly discussion forums in my economics classes. His columns were very thought provoking and gave my students a lot of new insights into economics. I always imagined what it would have been like to be a student in one of his classes. The experience I am certain would have been life changing.
I'm glad he got his wish to have taught a class on the day he passed away.
RIP, Walter Williams.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.