Ron Is Dead

I only knew the guy for 18 months for Christ sake.

And I liked him. We were cut from the same cloth. He was 84, he died the week before last.

Death sucks.

I met him here at Old Age Village (where I feel like a teenager, and maybe act like one too). 

We hit it off even though he was 13 years older than me. He grew up in Gloucester, MA so his experiences were similar to the derelict who grew up in Winthrop, MA (ME).

He was a drinker when he was a kid, still liked his whiskey, I think; he was into rock 'n roll, he had the same irreverent attitude I have about life and the world in general.

I met him here shortly after we moved in. After I took on the toxic masculine role of librarian's assistant I saw him even more because he stopped into the library practically every day. He loved libraries.

We had great conversations, although he had different conversations with me than he did with the ladies. When the women were around it was one thing, although he always skirted the bounds of good taste, at least as it is defined in 2025 (which is bullshit). When it was just me and him, the gloves were off - things got raunchy.

The man lived a life. He LIVED a life.

When he lived in MA, he owned a couple of clubs in Boston. He had great stories about the people he met, like Bonnie Raitt, James Taylor, and Maria Muldaur. He had great stories about partying with the "talent" and the people who worked for him. He told me about a waitress in one of his clubs who gave great head.

We talked a lot of sports, we talked a lot of music, we talked a lot of drinking and drugs, we talked a lot of books, we talked a lot about having fucking fun laced with insanity.

He moved to NH in 1979. He worked for a Chevrolet/Honda dealership. He served on the planning board of Dover from 1991 to 2011. From 2008 to 2015 he was assistant and head coach of the Dover High School girls JV soccer team. He became a fan of soccer when his kids started playing.

He retired in 2013 and began a career in writing, contributing to a number of local papers.  He served as the president of the association where I live from 2020 to 2021.

He was a huge Red Sox fan, and a fan of any women's collegiate sport, especially UConn women's basketball.

He was married to Patty for 40 years, he had four kids, and five grandchildren.

Opinions of Ron varied here. Know why? Because he was a character, he had personality, he had opinions formed from living a life. People want you to be boring. People want you to be like them. Ron was Ron. Period.

So this guy blew into my life, flamed across my sky like a comet, and died from a fucking stroke. 

Goddamn it. When he walked into the library (when he was out walking his dog who he loved and walked every day no matter what), he made my day. You got any idea how boring it is to work in a library? Ron's stories, real and raw, fucking woke me up. Before and after, I slept. When he was there, I lived.

The longer I hang onto life by my fingernails, the more these small situations, small chapters, small stories, feed my soul. These are the things that make a life.

18 fucking months I knew Ron. That's it. You know how fucking short that is when you're 71? When you're 84? It is fucking nothing.

But he made it sparkle.