Charles G. Hill was known as Dustbury to some and Chaz to others, but almost everyone who knew him knew Charles as a prolific writer who ran one of the longest running blogs in Oklahoma. Charles began blogging on Dustbury.com back in 1996. That’s three years before the word “blog” had even been coined.

I first met Charles through a computer bulletin board the two of us frequented back in the 1980s, “Midnight at the Oasis.” The BBS was run by Jessica Stults, a red-headed firecracker in her early thirties; Charles was Jessica’s co-sysop, the guy who worked mostly behind the scenes to keep things running. Jessica’s looks, wit, and flirtations were legendary, and hoards of men (and boys) called her BBS to join the conversation and vie for her attention.

If there were people in on the secret, I wasn’t one of them. It took me 20 years to discover there was no Jessica Stults. Everything from her sultry words to her supposedly red hair was a figment of Hall’s imagination. I had a good, hearty laugh the day I ran across that post and discovered the truth.

A few years later in the late 1980s I got my revenge on Charles, even though at the time I didn’t realize the irony of the situation. Charles belonged to a group called LSI, a self-appointed club who would “stamp out lamers” acting foolish on bulletin boards. (It was the 80s.) My friend Jeff and I somehow attracted the ire of LSI and were subjected to a (almost assuredly deserved) public stamping by the group. A few weeks later, one of the local LSI boards threw an outdoor picnic at a local park, which Jeff and I decided to attend. If asked who we were, the two of us had agreed to give fake names. Keep in mind that back in the BBS era there were no digital pictures and no avatars, so no one new what Jeff and I actually looked like. We spent the afternoon eating hamburgers and conversing with a group of people who, had they known who we were, would have rang our necks. Our hearts were racing the entire time, terrified that our true identities would be discovered. When I told Charles that story (twenty years after the fact) he thought it was absolutely hilarious.

Charles and I didn’t reconnect until 2006, the year I released Commodork: Sordid Tales from a BBS Junkie. With several common friends and memories, Charles was one of the earliest supporters of my books. Over the past several years, Charles routinely plugged posts and tweets of mine on his website, and I did the same for him. Once, in 2015, I messed up something on my own WordPress installation. Moments after seeking help via Twitter, Charles suggested the fix that ultimately solved the problem.

Unlike my blog, which only gets updated once or twice a week, Charles published multiple posts of varying lengths every day. His interests were eclectic. He was a car lover and a big fan of the Oklahoma City Thunder, but it was the other topics he wrote about — things like women’s shoes, Rebecca Black, and My Little Pony — that kept you on your toes. The guy was prolific, tireless, and smart as a whip.

Over the past few years Charles developed some debilitating back-related health issues. One thing about Charles was he was as transparent as a pane of glass. When he was hurting or suffering, he pulled no punches in his writing. Recently Charles lost power at his house for approximately three days, which on top of everything else, seemed to upset him even more than usual.

It was during those times that I reached out and offered help. After a tornado touched down near his home a few months ago, I suggested we meet for coffee and donuts. Recently after suffering a multi-day power outage, I offered to let him stay at our place. On those few occasions when it seemed depression was turning into despair, I sent him my phone number with a standing offer to call me anytime. For whatever reason, he never took me up on any of my offers. I wish I had pushed the coffee and donuts a bit harder.

A few days ago Charles G. Hill was involved in an automobile accident, and succumbed to his injuries a few days later. For the first time in more than two decades, both his blog and twitter feed have gone silent.

Rest in peace, Chaz. Wherever you are, I’ll bet you and Jessica are working on one heck of a blog post.