Uncle Ron, Forever 27

This was originally written and shared privately with relatives on Oct 1 2020. The only change made was to the age.

He would have been 65 today. It's hard to imagine him being old even though he was always old to me. He certainly never grew up at least in the sense most of us associate with adulthood and maturity.

He lived a short and sometimes troubled life. Like my mother and most of her siblings he grew up in foster homes. My father would sometimes derisively say he was the one relative who I took after the most. He was rarely employed and aside from a three-year stint in the navy, often lived with us. He was something of a loner and may have had what would be more politely called amotivational syndrome today.

When he went into the navy, I was about 7 years old. He left his records in my room and I listened to them often. It included many of the staples of FM rock radio of the 1970's. They more than anything have formed the core of my musical tastes today as I could also dig deeper beyond what I was hearing on the radio as well as offer me a more socially accepted version of escapism than playing with Star Wars toys. I still have them. Like some of the artists in the record collection he also died at age 27.

Always barefoot and with long hair, omnipresent cigarette smoke, the other funny smelling cigarette smoke coming from the car when he would get together with Uncle Brian (also deceased and a much more complicated tale that may someday be told), irreverent humor coupled with his unique laugh, which I am now desperately trying to recall the sound of, are what I will always associate with him. I remember the pitch and feel but not the actual sound.

His only attempt at mentoring that I recall was in 8th grade to tell me I should try talking to girls at school. My parents and friends weren't much help in this regard so perhaps my own personal life might have taken a difference course had he not soon disappeared from my life.

But I can't necessarily say he was what would be considered a "good" role model. He would often let me stay home from school and call in masquerading as a parent in exchange for my lunch money. It was one such day when we both saw the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster live on television and were trying to comprehend what we were seeing. When I first started smoking pot his absence was deeply felt as I wished we could have shared the experience.

It was at a low point in his life when he died in an accident, the details of which are still shrouded in mystery, so his situation was by no means permanent or the type of end associated with a downward spiral. It took me until I was past age 40 to begin to find my way after a protracted adolescence and now I would like to think had he lived longer he could have done the same.

He is survived by his brother, sisters, nieces and nephews who still miss him every day.