Ron

Ron, Me & Tug>>>>>>>>>

Yes CJ its story time with once more.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away. Wait wrong beginning.

When I began my working career a number of years ago, I was fumbling with my identity. My buddies were still mostly at university, and I had left school to reverse being a drain on my parents, as my Dad was ill and could not work.

While floundering, I was introduced to Ron. My buddies at the time, Mike, Dan, and Tug, introduced me to both curling and golf. I have played and strayed from both over the years, and enjoyed myself while playing them. Ron was a new member at the Meadowbrook Curling Club (now defunct), our club.

Ron and I became fast friends. Ron had almost as warped a sense of humor as I, and we reveled in seeing who could make the cruelest puns. It was both horrific and delightful. Ron and I also shared our views on morals and philosophy, and discovered that where we differed there was open ground for debate. Good debate; I could sway him on some things, he did the same.

Neither Ron nor I supported organized religion. He being a non-practicing Episcopalian, and me a lapsed Catholic, we had both strayed from our respective folds. Every year, regardless of our discussions on religion, Ron would always put $5 into the Salvation Army’s kettle drive. After seeing this for a few years, and me asking why, Ron explained that although he disagreed with their beliefs and their desire to convert the unwashed, they did very good things at Christmas for those who could not do for themselves, and as such earned his respect and support.

After a few years, some of the gang started noticing that Ron was slightly effeminate, and that they had never seen him with a woman. They, of course, assumed that he must be a fag, with all the negative behavior that accompanied this. They did not stay members of the gang for long. When faced with the supposition, I reacted defensively, and postulated that if anyone really cared, they should ask Ron. No one did.

Ron had been transferred to Ottawa; he was a Captain in the Armed Forces. They paid for his medical school and he owed them 5 years service; very equitable. I was visiting Ron one weekend, and while we were in our cups, and discussing all the matters of the world, I asked; “Hey, are you gay?” After a few seconds of silence he answered, “Yes”

I then asked him where we should go for lunch the next day. Ron was dumbfounded and wanted to know why I wasn’t questioning him further. I asked him if he intended to try and put the moves on me, and when he answered no, I told him; “Well I didn’t think you would, and since that was the only possible thing that might have worried me; case closed. Now, what about lunch tomorrow?”

I also moved to Ottawa, and when I married my ex-wife, Ron was my best man; there really was no other choice. We actually shared a town-house with Ron for a few years. Ron was living with us when my eldest daughter, Amanda was born. This was also when Ron confirmed that he was suffering from AIDS. Shortly afterwards, so we wouldn’t have to care for him, Ron decided to take an apartment of his own, and we moved into smaller digs. Ron eventually could not work anymore, and moved back to London to be cared for by his parents.

While visiting Ron in London, he asked me how I felt about euthanasia. We discussed this point quite extensively, and he told me he might ask me if he could write me a prescription for a lethal dose of something, and have me give it to him if the sickness became too much for him. You see, he knew me enough to know that by telling me he might ask me, I would think it through and have the answer if it were ever asked.

He never asked, but if he had, I would have done it without question.

When my youngest daughter Erin was 2 months old, Ron died. The official cause of death was pneumocystis pneumonia. I wanted Erin, if she were born a boy, to be named Ron. We went to London for the funeral, and laid Ron to rest in the family plot in Forest, Ontario.

My daughters may or may not remember seeing this, but every Christmas, and even though I don’t agree with their beliefs or desire to convert the rest of the world to their thinking, I drop $5 into the Salvation Army kettle. They do, after all, do very good things at Christmas for those who can’t do for themselves.

I dropped in $5 just the other day, and remembered my buddy, Dr. Ron Ince, 1957-1990, the best friend I ever had.

Cheers Dr. Chop!