Remembering Uncle Billy Jacobs

 Remembering Uncle Billy Jacobs: The sun has almost set below the horizon, casting long shadows across the yard as the news of Uncle Billy's passing came through. My first thought was that he was a man larger than life. Uncle Billy, despite his short stature, was a giant in life. He loved saying all his names when introducing himself: "I am William Salter Milborrow Jacobs." He was a family man and full of pride. From the earliest memories of my childhood, I can recall his booming voice and unyielding opinions that would fill our home whenever he came to visit. A "speak your mind" man, I called him, and he lived up to that moniker with every fibre of his being. He once said that a human being that doesn’t love music doesn’t believe in God. He loved listening to “Down memory lane” presented by Jill Stewart on Radio Algoa. I think he even went to the extend of meeting her.

When Uncle Billy visited us, it was a signal for a night filled with the vibrant tunes of Elvis Presley and Roy Orbison. I, a devoted Elvis fan, and Uncle Billy, a staunch supporter of Orbison, would engage in passionate debates about who was the superior singer. He used to take us on drives in his beloved yellow Chevair playing his favourite singer’s music. He also loved the music of Little Richard and The Platters. When it came to Elvis Presley and Roy Orbison, we agreed to disagree on which singer could sing the highest and hold the longest note. These debates would stretch into the late hours of the night, echoing through the night as we defended our chosen musical icons.

There were times when Uncle Billy would leave our home in the early morning hours, his voice lingering in the air long after his departure. One unforgettable morning, the laughter turned to astonishment as he discovered that mischievous thieves had removed his yellow Chevy’s windscreen. We were shocked at first, but the absurdity of the situation soon had us all in stitches. It became a family joke, a testament to the undeniable bond between Uncle Billy and our family - a bond forged in our shared love for music.

"That's just proof of how much I love music," Uncle Billy would chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief as he rubbed his chin. And so, the missing windscreen became a symbol, a quirky testament to the lengths we would go for the melodies that fed our souls.

I cherished my role as the Saturday afternoon DJ during Uncle Billy's visits. The living room transformed into a dance floor, and the melodies of Rock 'n Roll filled the air. My mother and Uncle Billy were dance partners since their childhood days in Alexandria. They would dance with the uninhibited joy of youth, captivating the eyes of us, the wide-eyed children who gathered to witness their lively performances.

In those moments, Uncle Billy wasn't just my uncle; he was the "man in black," a real-life Roy Orbison, and I was a youthful Elvis Presley. My father liked to call him “Billy, the kid”. He commanded the room with an energy that transcended the physical constraints of his stature. As the records spun and the dance floor pulsed with life, Uncle Billy became a beacon of exuberance, a reminder that the spirit of rock and roll could defy the passage of time.

My mother passed on last year. I remember his eulogy for my mom. Now, as we face a world without Uncle Billy, his absence leaves a void that seems difficult to fill. He joins his dancing partner in Heaven. I can imagine my mom exclaiming “What, look who came through the gates just now, none other than Billy, my dancing partner!” The music will play on and the melodies will carry the bittersweet notes of loss. Yet, as I reflected on the days filled with laughter, debates, and impromptu dance parties, I couldn't help but smile. Uncle Billy may have left this world, but the echoes of his vibrant spirit would forever resonate in the tunes that bonded us, making every note a cherished memory of a man who lived life with the audacity of a rock and roll anthem. Rock on, Oom Billy!