Hawkeye passed away today. No, not the one on the famous M*A*S*H movie or television series. My best friend, Tim Gamso, was called to be with God this morning.
I met Tim when we were both in fifth grade at St. Dominic Catholic School. One of the girls in our class told me I should meet him because his family had just moved in down the street from my family. We became lifelong friends from that time onward.
We graduated from McGill Institute together. Tim was elected senior class president for the class of 1973, the last all-boys class at McGill. McGill Institute and Bishop Toolen High School merged the year after our graduation.
Those old enough will remember the popular movie and TV series I mentioned in the opening paragraph. Tim and I chose to room together as freshmen at the University of Alabama in Abercrombie Dorm. The facility was a condemned women’s dorm that the folks in charge were pleased to assign to guys. We lived in Room 313.
The University welcomed freshmen with a descriptive register showing our picture, a short biography, and our chosen nickname. Tim’s was Hawkeye, and I was Trapper. We had a sign on our door defining our particular space as the “Swamp.”
After the first semester, two rooms on our third-story, four-room floor were vacated. We figured out how to access those rooms and added them to our personal inventory. We used one as a study and one as a guest room. Tim spent more time in the study than I did.
We lived up to the reputation of the M*A*S*H characters. We stocked our bar with such libations as cherry vodka and orange gin in honor of the famous still in the original “Swamp.” We even had a “Frank Burns” to harass one floor below ours.
After that gentleman repeatedly reported us to the dorm supervisor, we decided to exact revenge when he had gone home one weekend. We used the abovementioned skill to open his dorm door, remove everything in his room, and place it in the attic.
We realized our error upon his return Sunday night. The blood-curdling scream and his call to the Tuscaloosa police sent Tim and me running outside.
I don’t know where Tim hid, but I nestled in the shrubbery next to the building. A member of T-town’s finest shined his flashlight in my eyes, shook his head, and moved on. We returned our foe’s belongings to his room and had the opportunity to meet the Dean of Students the next day.
Tim and I joined the Kappa Sigma fraternity later that year. By the way, Abercrombie dorm is now a parking lot. Someone finally decided the building had served its purpose and deserved demolition. We did, too.
Tim flourished in the fraternity world. Frankly, he flourished in almost every situation because, despite the incident at Abercrombie, Tim cared about everyone and went out of his way to be helpful. He also knew how to party!
Tim was an entrepreneur. He and one of his roommates (not me) sold beer to fraternity brothers. One of their most successful brands was Schlitz Malt Liquor, the “Bull.”
My friend knew priorities, though. He earned a B.S. in Finance, and his M.B.A. Beta Gamma Sigma, the Honorary Business Fraternity inducted him in 1977. He played golf and competed in the U. S. Amateur and the British Amateur.
However, I believe his most significant accomplishment was marrying his bride for life, Susan Talbert. Together, they raised two sons, Winston and Harrison, and a daughter, Kathleen. In a previous blog, I wrote a story about Kathleen, a young lady who has bravely battled Williams Syndrome. Tim told me that those affected by Williams often have an “outgoing personality and interact readily with strangers.” She is that in spades! She developed friendships with such notables as Troy Aikman and Matt Stafford.
One of Tim’s favorite stories is about Kathleen and her mom shopping in an antique store when she recognized someone.
“I think that’s Laura Bush. I’m going to say hello to her.” Without hesitation, she walked past the Secret Service and said, “Welcome back, Mrs. Bush!” The Bushes had moved back to Dallas after two terms in Washington.
“What’s your name?” asked Laura Bush.
“I’m Kathleen. How are you doing? How was your trip?”
“Do you like to read?” asked Mrs. Bush. For the next ten minutes, Laura and Kathleen are best friends. When it was time to leave, Mrs. Bush said, “Goodby, Kathleen!”
“Goodbye, Laura!”
I bring up this story because Tim was among the most outgoing, friendly men I’ve ever known. There is a common thread throughout the people who have had the pleasure of knowing Tim.
“He always has a smile for everyone!”
“Tim is one of the truly good people!”
“He helped me on so many occasions!”
I woke up this morning to decide what to write about this week. Then I got the news that my friend was gone.
Last week, while unpacking some boxes of personal items, I ran across a picture of Tim and Susan. I vowed to call him and update our lives.
Life moves on for all of us, and the opportunity to talk to friends and family is somewhat sporadic. Our previous “touch-base” conversations began as short discussions but usually became hour-long sessions, including memories and laughter. Mostly laughter.
One of Tim’s favorite shows was the final episode of M*A*S*H. I will miss my friend. Goodbye, Hawkeye.
Rest In Peace,
Tommy
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