John Will Miller passed away on December 16, 2019 at the age of 69. He was commonly known as Johnny, Speedbump, Santa, and best of all as Dilly Bob. It was his chosen name, but it was also a verb, adjective, adverb and a way of life. He taught me more about being a good person than any other teacher and mentor has. He didn't have much, but his best quality was he generous spirit, and what he did have he was always willing to have shared. One of the best gifts he had was his stories and his legend. There are enough stories about the bar in Tulsa, and the Romanichal Gypsies, and the river floods in my head to write a feature length film. From the Santa Parties ("always tip your Santa hat to the right"), to the affectionately fun nicknames ("Tennessee", "Worker," "Trash Bag," "Omaha"), to the late night phone calls discussing world events ("Impeach Trumpler!"), your presence and wisdom will be missed.
St. Joseph lost a vibrant spirit this Christmas and one of it's truest legends (https://twitter.com/dillybobdrink/status/975431453080244224?s=19). You weren't perfect, nor did you claim to be, but you taught me what it meant to live life fully as a bachelor and not put all your happiness in a yamen ("but Dilly Bob love them yamen"). The real importance was in family and friends, even if you don't always get along. One of the most important lessions you taught me was forging positive relationships with animals.
You gave Drools the best life you could, and your friendship with him inspired me to get my own dog, producing ten of the most magical years of friendship with Bull ("you'll never have a better friend than a dog"). You also loved Fritz too and cared for him, despite him being a mean son-of-bitch, because he was your friend.
You have been one of the most instrumental influencers in who I became over the course of our fifteen year friendship. From the person I was when I met you through Worker, to our most recent late night drunk calls talking about Trumpler, you've helped me live a satisfying life as an aging bachelor. You are a bold reminder that a life fully lived is achievable despite bouts with loneliness. I will continue to live my life by the Yule standards that you so graciously laid down for me. You are the real Santa Claus and your gifts will live on for my lifetime.
It's hit me pretty hard that you were gone, especially finding out on Christmas, but it was kind of fitting, seeing as you're the real Santa and all. I'm happy your pain is over after our last conversion. A person doesn't throw around ideas like rejecting hospice care lightly. I guess I just didn't know it was going to come before I saw you again, and I hoped we would have more conversation. I'll really miss you not keeping me up to date on why KQ2 has gone to shit since I left.
You taught people to always love who they were because they were good people, even if people were talking shit about you ("Well, ya see, I'm a drunk, but a good drunk!"). You were so stubborn it became one of your best virtues, but it wasn't your best, those were your sense of humor and storytelling skills, and your compassion. I aspire to have your magickal quality of lightening the mood of every group you were a part of ("you gotta be jollyful!"), even when you when you accidentally let a fire get out of control ("it got a bit out of hand, almost burnt the house down, but we got it put out").
Good bless you John "Dilly Bob" Miller, of Oregon, Missouri, son of Orville and Florence Miller. It's going to take awhile to get used to not having late-night and early-morning drunk conversations with you every few months. I'm a better person now than when I met you, because of our friendship, because of you.
Rest easy, dear friend. We all know you're only napping between drinks. Until we meet again, Dilly Bob,
PARTY!
