Dear Editor,

There are people who cross your path in life and leave you with a new window on the world. Their friendship and influence brighten your perspective and illuminate the path you seek to follow. In my sixty-eight years on this earth, I can name a handful of those kinds of people. Bill Nagel was one of them. When the Colerain Presbyterian Church hired me fifteen years ago to be their pastor, Bill and his wife Nancy made sure I knew they were in my corner.

During that first year of ministry at Colerain, my wife Judy and I went to Red Lobster on a Saturday afternoon to enjoy a good seafood meal. When I went to pay for the bill, the waitress told me someone had taken care of it. I looked across the dining area to see Bill and Nancy sitting in a booth, Bill wearing his 101st Airborne cap and smiling. I thought to myself, Wow, that was a generous gesture from someone I didn’t know that well. We walked to their table and talked. That was the beginning of a long friendship.

With time I began to see the character of the man. Bill would stop in my office once a week just to talk. First, he would check to make sure the church’s oil tanks were filled and the furnace filters changed. He was a man of faith who cared deeply about the church’s ministry and his community. He must have belonged to five or six community organizations and sacrificed his time and offered his many talents to the work of these benevolent organizations.

Every November on Veterans Day Sunday he would read a poem to the congregation about the sacrifices the men and women of our armed forces had made for their country. He always set up an empty chair in front of the church with an MIA banner on it to remember those missing in action. He loved his country with all his heart. That love was more than words. He had served as a platoon leader on the front lines of the Vietnam War and had received two Bronze Stars for bravery in battle.

Bill served on our session for years, heading up the property committee. He could fix anything and saved the church a ton of money with his mechanical skills. He helped to keep us moving in the right direction during challenging times for mainline denominations. He loved to golf, and we played together often. He consistently hit 200-yard drives down the middle of the fairway. His game was a reflection of the way he lived.

Whenever he would appear at my office door, I would ask him how he was doing, and he would say, “‘Bout 60/40.” During this past year as he battled cancer, I would visit him in the hospital or at home. “How are you doing, Bill?” I’d ask. “‘Bout 60/40,” he’d always reply with a smile. Not long ago he walked down that last fairway of life. Ask anybody who knew Bill Nagel, and they will tell you that their lives were blessed by his friendship. Although heaven has gained a courageous saint, his influence remains with us. Our window on the world looks brighter. How much brighter? ‘Bout 60/40.

Joe Charles Ellis

Martins Ferry