Bill Boughton

Oldest Hemophilia Humanitarian in World?

Laurie Kelley September 7, 2014
I flew to England this past week—for 48 hours only! Left on a Wednesday night, returned on a Friday night. A British customs agent asked me why I was staying so short a time—“All this way?” she asked, eyebrow raised. “Yes, to visit a dear friend,” I replied. (And also, I have stuff to do on the weekend here in Boston.) “Besides, it’s faster than flying to California,” I noted. “True,” she replied.
Where does she live?
Bill Boughton, a 91-year-old gentleman 
Not she, but he! One of my favorite people in the world. There are not many people I’d fly 6 hours each
way, and three hours worth of train, tube and express train each way to see.
Bill could very well be the oldest hemophilia humanitarian in the world. At an age
when most people are immobile, or aching, or lamenting, Bill has not lost his
joy of living, his quick wit, his desire to help the less fortunate. He is in short, a marvel.
He is blessed with good health, excellent joints, but also a resilient and
grateful attitude; he appreciates everything he has. And he wants to help
others.
How did this charming and witty elder statesman get involved with hemophilia?
There’s a tie to Romania. He and his wife in the 1980s wanted to adopt a Romanian
orphan, a victim of Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu, a brutal,
heartless politician who enforced multiple births in Romanian women, by denying
birth control and insisting they stay pregnant. As a result, thousands of
babies were abandoned; many contracted AIDS. During his visit to Romania, Bill happened upon a boy
with hemophilia—I hear this kind of story often!—was impressed by the child’s
needs and fortitude, and wanted to help. Coming home to Somerset, England, he
phoned the chair of the Haemophilia Society, in London. They directed him to me.
So in the early 2000s, I received a surprise call from an articulate man with a
British accent: “Hallo!” he started. And an eternal friendship was formed. He
wanted to source factor, and heard that I donated some. Eventually we were able
to get this boy some factor, and Bill and I conspired together from time to
time to help some Romanian children with hemophilia.
Laurie Kelley and the kid
I loved chatting with him, first, because he impressed me with his concern for others, especially at his age. Second, the man was downright funny! Witty. There’s nothing like British humor, unless it’s Irish humor (oh, that comment would set him off). The fact that I lived in Boston, home of the Boston Tea Party, where we dumped the King’s tea in the harbor and set off the Revolutionary War, was a source of many jokes between us. He called me a “Yankee” and I called him a “Limey.” Or “Irish Witch” to my “Prince William.” Sometimes he would just call to chat: “I was out on me walk today, love, when I came upon a cow stuck in a ditch. Well, I scrambled down the ditch to help her out!” At his age! He still, at age 91, takes a
daily morning walk with his Border Collies Molly and Harry.
When
the opportunity came to hold Romania’s first World Hemophilia Day in 2005, my company
paid the expenses. And I invited Bill to come and be a guest. It was our first
meeting. Seeing him across the hotel lobby, I flashed a huge smile and we
hugged; I felt like I had always known Bill. He sat at the head table with the
other dignitaries, and spoke about his efforts to help those with hemophilia in
Romania.
That year we also had our first hemophilia summer camp, courtesy of Adriana Henderson, who founded S.T.A.R. Children Relief, to help children in Romania. Adriana, a Princess Diana look-alike, is a tour de force in making things happen in Romania for children with hemophilia. She and I had collaborated together, and indeed it was she who put together the entire World Hemophilia Day, single-handedly! She invited me and Bill to attend camp. I marveled at first how Adriana pulled everything together, seemingly so effortlessly and perfectly. And second, at
Bill—80 something years old and yet he donned a bathing suit and went right into the Black Sea with the boys, playing, teaching them to swim. They loved him. He had taught himself Romanian! He was able to speak with them.
Each night at camp we sat in the dinner hall with a glass of wine and got to know each other better.
And when they had the talent show, he insisted that we sing “God Save the Queen.” Well, that was “bloody” hard to do as an American (from Boston, no less!) but we had fun. The boys loved all the joshing around.
Not returning to the annual camp after that, I would have a hard time meeting up with Bill. So I vowed to fly to England annually to visit. I’ve tried to keep that promise, even if it is only for a day or so. I attended his lovely 90th birthday party 18 months ago, at the Lamb and Lark pub in Yeovil, where I got to meet his neighbors, friends and family. His daughter Emma lives with him, and she and I have become great friends.

On this visit last week, I flew to London, arrived at 6:30 am (1:30 am EST) hopped the Express to Paddington Station, took the Bakerloo “tube” to Waterloo Station, then the Southwest train to Yeovil Junction, a two hour ride across the lush, green carpeted countryside, checkered with fluffy sheep. Bill and Emma were at the station to pick me up. It’s like no time had ever passed. We went straight to his home, and in the orchard out back, were “Thistle” and “Martin,” two adorable, wobbly-kneed kids, born just two days before. They’re an addition to the ten chickens, two dogs, four cats and four other goats. We had a marvelous visit, enjoying English tea, and immediately visiting the Air Museum nearby.

What timing: the Air Museum is filled with vintage World War I and II planes, including a Phantom jet, a Vampire jet and a Sopwith Camel (remember Peanuts’ Snoopy?). Bill served in World War II, and of course, World War II’s anniversary was just two days before, September 1, 1939, when Hitler invaded Poland. Bill was in the Signal Corps, and traveled the world as a young enlisted man. This visit gave him the
chance to share his war stories, and facts about WWII. We marveled at the exhibits, but I marveled at how deftly Bill walked up the many, many stairs, including the steep ones to go inside a full fledged, life-size Concorde!Laurie in front of a “Vampire”

I think Bill must be the world’s oldest hemophilia humanitarian, and is easily one of the most interesting people I know. He is easy to visit and be with: witty, gregarious, fun-loving, kind, generous. One of my favorite people ever.
Indeed, I was so interested in his life, I asked him once to put it down on paper. Turns out Bill is quite the writer too! I loved his story so much I published it. I made 20 books for him to share with family and friends. He called it, “My Life in the Royal Air Force.” It ends with the end of WWII.

I think it’s time for him to write about his life post war, including what drew him to work in hemophilia and make a difference in the life of so many
children. There aren’t enough Bills in the world; indeed, there couldn’t be. When God made Bill Boughton, he broke the mold. There is only one, but I hope to be like him when I am in my later years: able to travel, able to give, and able to make a difference.

Great Book I Just Read
Night by Elie Weisel
Considered a classic now, Night is the true story of Nobel laureate Elie Wiesel years as a Jewish teen who watches the horrors of genocide unfold slowly in his community. He
documents it day by day, step by painful step, the depredation, starvation,
beatings, and separations. His mother and sister gone in one moment, his
struggle to keep his father and he together in a death camp, through almost any
means possible. Once a pious Jewish boy, he confronts God in his heart and
cries out: how can such horrors exist? Where is the God he once worshipped? This
easy-to-read book is deceptive as it packs a powerful spiritual punch. Perfect
reading for the week of WWII’s anniversary. Five out of five stars.

Legends and a Real Life Legend

Laurie Kelley September 22, 2008
Bill Boughton and Laurie Kelley

I’m in London this week for a conference on inhibitors; I’ll be speaking Wednesday to a group of nurses, as a guest of Grifols, manufacturers of Alphanate and Alphanine. I came early to visit my old friend Bill Boughton, who lives in Somerset, two hours west of London. Bill is an inspiration: we met over the phone at least 10 years ago when he began, at the age of 75, to get involved in helping boys with hemophilia in Romania get factor. Imagine! His connection to Romania? He and his wife adopted a 7-year-old Romanian orphan.

Bill has since then helped Project SHARE get some factor to Romania. (Grifols is also a sponsor of Project SHARE). He also attended two summer camps in Romania, created and sponsored by STAR Children Relief, directed by our mutual friend Adriana Henderson. There was Bill, age 83, driving from London to the Black Sea to befriend some lovely but very poor boys with hemophilia. And he did it all with wit, charm, incredible energy, and genuine generosity. He since sponsors a young man with hemophilia there.

So in coming to England it would be hard not to visit this octogenarian volunteer, who simply forgets his age. He loves life, and he engages fully in it. I took a 6-hour flight to London, and the next day (yesterday) took a lovely two-hour train ride through the countryside to see Bill and his other daughter Emma, age 23. It was a great reunion, and not one to sit still long, Bill invited me to come and see nearby Glastonbury.

Glastonbury is a charming town with an amazing reputation: site of the fabled Avalon, home of King Arthur. Indeed, at the ruins of the medieval abbey, which were stunning, we saw the “graves” of King Arthur and Guinevere. Glastonbury is reputed to have had the oldest Christian Church in England, and is a pilgrimage site. Also it is reputed to be where Joseph of Arimathea, said uncle to Jesus, came. Joseph of Arimathea is famous for asking Pilate for the body of Jesus, and burying it in the tomb he had intended for himself. In the poem “Jerusalem,” by poet and writer William Blake, the question is posed whether Jesus himself came to England, to Glastonbury with his uncle?Another myth says that Joseph, upon reaching Glastonbury, planted his staff, which immediately blossomed into a thorn tree, which flowered every Christmas day. Cromwell ordered the tree cut down, and it is said that as it fell, its thorns blinded the axe man in his eye. Glastonbury is full of superstitions, healers, tarot card readers, and alternative medicine shops. Allegedly, some of them sell leaves that sprout from a cutting of the original thorn tree. Interesting stuff!

One more myth: Joseph is said to have buried the Holy Grail (the cup Jesus drank from at the Last Supper) just below the Tor (hill), where a spring began to flow and the water was supposed to bring eternal youth to whoever would drink it. I looked everywhere desperately for such water, but alas I am still 50! I do think Bill found it some time ago: not only does he carry on like someone half his age, he doesn’t look at all 85. Is it the water, or his love of helping others that keeps him young at heart and health?

HemaBlog Archives
Categories