Billy D.
Back in the late 70’s I met a young man like myself who eventually came to be my best male friend. I say “late 70’s” because I only recall it was 1977 or 1978. You’ll have to excuse me for not recalling certain details of events that occurred over 30 years ago. I specify “male friend” because as a married man, I am required by political correctness and my own safety to profess that my best friend is my wife, Linda, who has been chained to me for nearly 33 years and has done a stellar job at it, I might add.
At any rate, Bill Dobos and I became friends when we met at San Jose Bible College. He came to the school from Southern California. He entered into our circle of friends which included Rick Criscione, George Gardner, Mike Huskey Dennis McGuire and Mark Thompson. (Please note that the preceding names are in alphabetical order so there can be no argument about any particular guy’s importance or lack thereof).
Because I did not have wealthy parents to pay my tuition, my game plan for college was to attend classes for a semester and then work a semester to earn money for tuition for the next one. This is partly why I started college in November 1976 and graduated with my BS (yes, I get comments from my friends that having a BS is so fitting for me) in May 1984. My grades were not the best and I graduated Barely Made It Laude. To be very honest I was not a model student. I skipped a lot of classes, I had poor (non-existent) study habits, and I was more about having fun than anything else. Now, had SJBC offered a Bachelor’s Degree in Good Times, I might have been elected the valedictorian of my class. To further express the truth, Linda and I got married in 1980 and she worked full time so that I didn’t have to (we did manage an apartment building and got free rent) and so she put me through school my last three years. This sort of illustrates the "being chained to me" part as mentioned above.
Due to my intermittent enrollment, Bill and I had sporadic contact. He got married the year after I did and we graduated in 1984. We had a few adventures with a couple of guys in our circle; however, I am not at liberty to divulge those escapades until we have been properly advised by our attorneys. I will say that one of them involved Bill failing to STAY IN THE CAR as he was instructed. At one point in time, Bill and his wife, Janean managed the apartments at 780 South 11th. Street and Linda and I were the managers across the street at the 781’s. We lost contact once we each moved away from there and only talked on the telephone two or three times a year.
Around 1988, Bill was called to pastor a small church in Weston, Oregon, a tiny town in the far northwest part of the state. A search of Google showed that Weston’s population in 2010 was 670 (people). Bill has served that community for nearly 25 years and he has done a tremendous work there. He has the heart of an elephant. He is the most well-read person I know (which I attribute somewhat to the fact that there is nothing else to do in Weston (=). A couple of times over the years, Bill and his family came to visit us in San Jose. Linda and I visited them in Weston a couple of times.
Bill truly cares about others and he is generous even though he did not get rich by accepting the pastor position in Weston. Shortly, after the Dobos family moved to Weston I went to visit them. This particular time I was by myself. During my several days visit, Bill noted that my car tires were pretty worn and he thought they should be replaced soon. I blew it off saying they had lots of miles left on them. The next day as I was leaving for home, Bill handed me a plain envelope and made me promise not to open it until I was many miles away. I said OK and drove off. I stopped just past the city limit and looked inside the envelope where I found $300 and a note instructing me to get some better tires.
In 2009, a few months before Bill turned 50, Janean sent us an invitation to attend a surprise party for him in Weston. She asked the invitees to write something for Bill that would be read at the party. I did not plan to go due to the distance from here to there so I wrote my take on Bill and mailed it to her with my regrets that I couldn’t be there. A few days before the party, I decided to go. Linda was unable to tag along so I drove up to Weston by myself. I did not tell Janean that I was coming. I stayed in a motel the night before and walked into the venue (the Weston Community Center) unannounced. I was able to surprise those who know me including Janean, her children and several old friends from our college days. Bill was shocked to see all these people who had come to his surprise party. Janean had pulled it off without a hitch. At the appointed time, I was asked if I would read what I had written to Bill. I did, but not without a few tears. It was an honor to be there and many of the people had things to say about him which reinforces what I have written here about Pastor Dobos.
When I called Bill to tell him that Daniel had committed suicide he immediately said he and Janean would be coming down to Turlock to support us. I did not expect this but it did not surprise me because, as I’ve said, he has the heart of an elephant. It is no easy task for him to leave his town and the people there because he is such an integral part of his community. People rely on him for moral support and friendship and many other things. Bill is a servant and when we get to heaven he’ll visit me in my thatched roof hut and I’ll go see him in his palatial mansion that I know God is building for him. He is a soft spoken and deeply thoughtful man whose gentleness and wisdom are greatly needed and appreciated. I am speaking from my own personal experience. We have spent many hours on the telephone with him counseling me through whatever rough patch I was going through at that moment.
I later called him back and said, “Well, since you’re already coming, would you mind doing Daniel’s memorial service?” He said that he would and I knew it would be a great service. Over the next couple of days we talked by telephone a few times. He gave me a thumbnail sketch of how he planned to handle the service. He mentioned he has done several services of those who have taken their own lives. I also found out from his wife, Janean, that although his town and congregation are small, Bill is asked by many people in the area for help when they are grieving and he has officiated dozens of funerals. He is sometimes on the scene when people pass into the hereafter and has assisted funeral directors removing bodies from homes, many of whom were his friends. To me, this is far and beyond the call of duty and when I have told Bill how much I respect him for the ministry he has, he shakes it off. I have NEVER met a more humble person than Bill Dobos. He loves God. He loves his family and friends. And he loves his fellow man.
Bill and Janean arrived here the Wednesday before Daniel’s service on Saturday. On Friday he asked to meet with our family as well as Daniel’s fiancée, Michelle and her parents, Joe and Debbie. We all spent an hour in our living room talking about the service. Bill asked each of us if there was something special we wanted him to mention. He asked us to tell him about what we liked about Daniel. He said if anyone wanted to either speak at the service or write something he could read for them. He encouraged us that if we did want to speak, to write down what we would say so that in the event one could not make it through, he could finish reading the remembrance. He was a comforting presence to all of us and I hope if you ever have to go through an experience like this, you will find your own Bill Dobos to help you through it.
One evening a couple of days after the service, we were sitting in my living room talking. At one point, Bill told me, “Stan, you are my best friend.” In all my 55 years of life I had never heard these words. I was overwhelmed and I began to cry because it touched my heart so deeply. I have a few other guys who have called me a “good friend” or ONE of their best friends, but never has anyone called me “THE best.” Bill explained that our friendship is so precious to him citing most of what I have recounted here. He said it meant so much that I drove all that way to help him celebrate turning 50 and he felt it cemented me into that special role as his best friend.
As I was getting ready to post this entry to my blog, I realized that somewhere on my hard drive could be found my birthday letter to Bill. I located it and even though some of it is redundant to the above, I felt compelled to add it here:
I have known Bill Dobos since the late 1970’s. We met at San Jose Bible College when we were yet young men. Now, in our 50’s, we are still friends and I appreciate that so much.
Although we have had little face to face contact since we left school, we still maintain a connection that was forged from the “glue” shared by many young men - immaturity, cockiness and uncertainty. Somehow, we found our way into manhood and have been able, by God’s grace, to become responsible to the point that other people such as our wives, children, grandchildren and friends have been able to depend upon us. That is such a great feeling and makes us proud and humble at the same time. There is a line in a Larry Norman song that, when I hear it, I think of Bill and me. The song is “Song For A Small Circle Of Friends” and the line is about his longtime friend Randy Stonehill. It says: “…and I still love him as we both crawl toward the lamp.”
What I appreciate most about Bill is that, for me, he models Jesus Christ. I am more like Peter, the disciple. I’m the guy who wants to beat up the idiots around me; go to war and crush those who I feel are in need of a “tune-up.” Bill and I have had discussions (primarily about our personal family matters) in which I say things like, “Bill, I just want to slap that guy.” Bill, like Jesus, is calm and level-headed. He’ll respond with 29 better ideas on how to handle it. His suggestions keep me out of jail and allow the potential target to retain his health.
When I first met Bill, I did not consider that we would still be friends after 30+ years because at 19, boys do not think about stuff like that. As we grew older and got married (not to each other!), we shared the bond of being apartment managers across the street from one another in San Jose. We were both flower delivery drivers for the same florist. Both of us worked in Juvenile Hall for the probation department where I have remained all these years. Bill and Janean moved away and our friendship lagged somewhat due to the distance. But one thing that I’ve always appreciated is that when we are again in the presence of one another, we pick up right where we left off, as if we have been in the same proximity the entire time. A love we share is photography and I am so impressed by Bill’s skill in this. He has what photographers refer to as “the eye.” I love looking at his pictures.
I may be able to “hold my own” with him in photography, but I cannot hold a candle to Bill as a theologian. He is very well read. Recently, on a houseboat trip to Lake Shasta, I overheard Bill and one of the other guys discuss the teaching of philosophers and theologians I have never even heard of. I am unable to participate in such talks due to the fact that I don’t read Socrates or Perrin. When these discussions begin, I just say, “Let me know when you guys want to talk about cage fighting, redneck jokes or the joys of eating a Big Mac.”
I am much honored to be called Bill’s friend. I have benefited from his generosity and his mutual love for me. He has shared with me some of his ministry experiences which I have put to use in my personal and professional life as a probation officer. The way he lives his life challenges me to be a better man and a more faithful Christian. His humility inspires me as we both crawl toward the lamp. I love you, Billy D. Thanks for calling me your friend.
(And now, I'm his BFF!)
At any rate, Bill Dobos and I became friends when we met at San Jose Bible College. He came to the school from Southern California. He entered into our circle of friends which included Rick Criscione, George Gardner, Mike Huskey Dennis McGuire and Mark Thompson. (Please note that the preceding names are in alphabetical order so there can be no argument about any particular guy’s importance or lack thereof).
Because I did not have wealthy parents to pay my tuition, my game plan for college was to attend classes for a semester and then work a semester to earn money for tuition for the next one. This is partly why I started college in November 1976 and graduated with my BS (yes, I get comments from my friends that having a BS is so fitting for me) in May 1984. My grades were not the best and I graduated Barely Made It Laude. To be very honest I was not a model student. I skipped a lot of classes, I had poor (non-existent) study habits, and I was more about having fun than anything else. Now, had SJBC offered a Bachelor’s Degree in Good Times, I might have been elected the valedictorian of my class. To further express the truth, Linda and I got married in 1980 and she worked full time so that I didn’t have to (we did manage an apartment building and got free rent) and so she put me through school my last three years. This sort of illustrates the "being chained to me" part as mentioned above.
Due to my intermittent enrollment, Bill and I had sporadic contact. He got married the year after I did and we graduated in 1984. We had a few adventures with a couple of guys in our circle; however, I am not at liberty to divulge those escapades until we have been properly advised by our attorneys. I will say that one of them involved Bill failing to STAY IN THE CAR as he was instructed. At one point in time, Bill and his wife, Janean managed the apartments at 780 South 11th. Street and Linda and I were the managers across the street at the 781’s. We lost contact once we each moved away from there and only talked on the telephone two or three times a year.
Around 1988, Bill was called to pastor a small church in Weston, Oregon, a tiny town in the far northwest part of the state. A search of Google showed that Weston’s population in 2010 was 670 (people). Bill has served that community for nearly 25 years and he has done a tremendous work there. He has the heart of an elephant. He is the most well-read person I know (which I attribute somewhat to the fact that there is nothing else to do in Weston (=). A couple of times over the years, Bill and his family came to visit us in San Jose. Linda and I visited them in Weston a couple of times.
Bill truly cares about others and he is generous even though he did not get rich by accepting the pastor position in Weston. Shortly, after the Dobos family moved to Weston I went to visit them. This particular time I was by myself. During my several days visit, Bill noted that my car tires were pretty worn and he thought they should be replaced soon. I blew it off saying they had lots of miles left on them. The next day as I was leaving for home, Bill handed me a plain envelope and made me promise not to open it until I was many miles away. I said OK and drove off. I stopped just past the city limit and looked inside the envelope where I found $300 and a note instructing me to get some better tires.
In 2009, a few months before Bill turned 50, Janean sent us an invitation to attend a surprise party for him in Weston. She asked the invitees to write something for Bill that would be read at the party. I did not plan to go due to the distance from here to there so I wrote my take on Bill and mailed it to her with my regrets that I couldn’t be there. A few days before the party, I decided to go. Linda was unable to tag along so I drove up to Weston by myself. I did not tell Janean that I was coming. I stayed in a motel the night before and walked into the venue (the Weston Community Center) unannounced. I was able to surprise those who know me including Janean, her children and several old friends from our college days. Bill was shocked to see all these people who had come to his surprise party. Janean had pulled it off without a hitch. At the appointed time, I was asked if I would read what I had written to Bill. I did, but not without a few tears. It was an honor to be there and many of the people had things to say about him which reinforces what I have written here about Pastor Dobos.
When I called Bill to tell him that Daniel had committed suicide he immediately said he and Janean would be coming down to Turlock to support us. I did not expect this but it did not surprise me because, as I’ve said, he has the heart of an elephant. It is no easy task for him to leave his town and the people there because he is such an integral part of his community. People rely on him for moral support and friendship and many other things. Bill is a servant and when we get to heaven he’ll visit me in my thatched roof hut and I’ll go see him in his palatial mansion that I know God is building for him. He is a soft spoken and deeply thoughtful man whose gentleness and wisdom are greatly needed and appreciated. I am speaking from my own personal experience. We have spent many hours on the telephone with him counseling me through whatever rough patch I was going through at that moment.
I later called him back and said, “Well, since you’re already coming, would you mind doing Daniel’s memorial service?” He said that he would and I knew it would be a great service. Over the next couple of days we talked by telephone a few times. He gave me a thumbnail sketch of how he planned to handle the service. He mentioned he has done several services of those who have taken their own lives. I also found out from his wife, Janean, that although his town and congregation are small, Bill is asked by many people in the area for help when they are grieving and he has officiated dozens of funerals. He is sometimes on the scene when people pass into the hereafter and has assisted funeral directors removing bodies from homes, many of whom were his friends. To me, this is far and beyond the call of duty and when I have told Bill how much I respect him for the ministry he has, he shakes it off. I have NEVER met a more humble person than Bill Dobos. He loves God. He loves his family and friends. And he loves his fellow man.
Bill and Janean arrived here the Wednesday before Daniel’s service on Saturday. On Friday he asked to meet with our family as well as Daniel’s fiancée, Michelle and her parents, Joe and Debbie. We all spent an hour in our living room talking about the service. Bill asked each of us if there was something special we wanted him to mention. He asked us to tell him about what we liked about Daniel. He said if anyone wanted to either speak at the service or write something he could read for them. He encouraged us that if we did want to speak, to write down what we would say so that in the event one could not make it through, he could finish reading the remembrance. He was a comforting presence to all of us and I hope if you ever have to go through an experience like this, you will find your own Bill Dobos to help you through it.
One evening a couple of days after the service, we were sitting in my living room talking. At one point, Bill told me, “Stan, you are my best friend.” In all my 55 years of life I had never heard these words. I was overwhelmed and I began to cry because it touched my heart so deeply. I have a few other guys who have called me a “good friend” or ONE of their best friends, but never has anyone called me “THE best.” Bill explained that our friendship is so precious to him citing most of what I have recounted here. He said it meant so much that I drove all that way to help him celebrate turning 50 and he felt it cemented me into that special role as his best friend.
As I was getting ready to post this entry to my blog, I realized that somewhere on my hard drive could be found my birthday letter to Bill. I located it and even though some of it is redundant to the above, I felt compelled to add it here:
I have known Bill Dobos since the late 1970’s. We met at San Jose Bible College when we were yet young men. Now, in our 50’s, we are still friends and I appreciate that so much.
Although we have had little face to face contact since we left school, we still maintain a connection that was forged from the “glue” shared by many young men - immaturity, cockiness and uncertainty. Somehow, we found our way into manhood and have been able, by God’s grace, to become responsible to the point that other people such as our wives, children, grandchildren and friends have been able to depend upon us. That is such a great feeling and makes us proud and humble at the same time. There is a line in a Larry Norman song that, when I hear it, I think of Bill and me. The song is “Song For A Small Circle Of Friends” and the line is about his longtime friend Randy Stonehill. It says: “…and I still love him as we both crawl toward the lamp.”
What I appreciate most about Bill is that, for me, he models Jesus Christ. I am more like Peter, the disciple. I’m the guy who wants to beat up the idiots around me; go to war and crush those who I feel are in need of a “tune-up.” Bill and I have had discussions (primarily about our personal family matters) in which I say things like, “Bill, I just want to slap that guy.” Bill, like Jesus, is calm and level-headed. He’ll respond with 29 better ideas on how to handle it. His suggestions keep me out of jail and allow the potential target to retain his health.
When I first met Bill, I did not consider that we would still be friends after 30+ years because at 19, boys do not think about stuff like that. As we grew older and got married (not to each other!), we shared the bond of being apartment managers across the street from one another in San Jose. We were both flower delivery drivers for the same florist. Both of us worked in Juvenile Hall for the probation department where I have remained all these years. Bill and Janean moved away and our friendship lagged somewhat due to the distance. But one thing that I’ve always appreciated is that when we are again in the presence of one another, we pick up right where we left off, as if we have been in the same proximity the entire time. A love we share is photography and I am so impressed by Bill’s skill in this. He has what photographers refer to as “the eye.” I love looking at his pictures.
I may be able to “hold my own” with him in photography, but I cannot hold a candle to Bill as a theologian. He is very well read. Recently, on a houseboat trip to Lake Shasta, I overheard Bill and one of the other guys discuss the teaching of philosophers and theologians I have never even heard of. I am unable to participate in such talks due to the fact that I don’t read Socrates or Perrin. When these discussions begin, I just say, “Let me know when you guys want to talk about cage fighting, redneck jokes or the joys of eating a Big Mac.”
I am much honored to be called Bill’s friend. I have benefited from his generosity and his mutual love for me. He has shared with me some of his ministry experiences which I have put to use in my personal and professional life as a probation officer. The way he lives his life challenges me to be a better man and a more faithful Christian. His humility inspires me as we both crawl toward the lamp. I love you, Billy D. Thanks for calling me your friend.
(And now, I'm his BFF!)
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| Phil Rose (l); Bill Dobos (r) |
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