KAPAI'S CORNER: Memory bursting with brilliant Billys

When the news came today that my Uncle Billy had passed away it made me reflect on all the brilliant Billys that had walked in to my life.
My Uncle Billy Awa was the classic hard case Kiwi uncle who talked longer, laughed louder, sang sweeter and gave me more magic moments than any other. He was equalled only by his nephew, another Billy.
Billy T James left a legacy of laughter that still guarantees a giggle today and not only did he teach us to laugh at ourselves but, better still, broke down the cultural cringe by giving both Maori and Pakeha the green light to guffaw at each other's many humorous habits.
Humour has, is and always will be, the most powerful weapon on the planet when we can all start firing it at each other like Billy T did to the land of the laughing crowd.
Billy Bowden deserves a mention with his one-legged scarecrow cricket calls as does Billy Birmingham the master of the 12th man.
Billy Bush the burly bearded All Black prop was a bit of a big Billy in my gallery of hardcore heroes as was another bloody good prop, Billy Young, who packed down for the competition winning Mount seniors rugby team.
Budget Bill had a lethal Liverpool kiss and a warm Scottish heart that could melt even the coldest of rugby referees.
Bill Smith my Mount College Phys Ed teacher was another Billy who showed us townies how to "get a little dirt on your hands boy" by drilling it into us with truckloads of discipline.
Wiremu Smith gave us all a new meaning to the words run for your life
Wiremu Bill Ohio is a Billy whose family I owe a lot of gratitude.
Firstly, Bill's wife Hinemanu who taught me my first words of te reo Maori and then his brother Monty who, I would have to say, single-handily gave me the open door to the whare of writing by being brave enough to have an opinion and share it with this paper's readers with his letters to the editor.
Whenever I bump into Monty Ohia at a hui or a hikoi our korero revolves around readers' reactions; especially about the racial replies.
It leaves us both not having a klue what klan these Kluxs belong to and I am greatly encouraged to talk the walk and tell it like I see it.
Billy Bold is one of my all time favourite songs and my many memories of hearing and seeing Graham Brazier belt it out on a stage full of sailors takes a bit of beating. Billy Bold Brazier had the jump on Jim Morrison from the Doors and, if the music industry in this country supported Kiwi musicians back then as they do today, he would have made it to the global stage and left a lot of ladies blue on the way.
Billy (BJ) Clinton warrants a word given that he held the world in his hand while Monica held his future elsewhere. Given the present president and his way of relieving back pressure I am far more comfortable with a president that blows a trumpet and likes his trumpet blown than one that blows up anything for the sake of satisfying his frustrations.
And then there was Billy the Kid, the cowboy character that rode mum's broom handle to victory against the baddies in my childhood challenges of cowboys and itchybums.
Our imaginations were hotter than a boiling Billy and the ability to bring Bonanza from the world of television to the backyard of our brick home in Macville road still leaves me with the urge to saddle up the broom and ride out town.
But the Billy that has saddled up and rode out of town for the last time is my Uncle Wiremu (Billy) tupu te momo kupa Awa who will tie up his horse next to his nephew Billy T James up on Taupiri Hill.
Haere haere haere Bro, may your treasured tokotoko point you toward Cape Reinga and the journey home to Hawaiikinui.
Pai marire