Baz Luhrmann is his song / poem The Sunscreen Song says the following-

“Don’t worry about the future, or worry, but know worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing Bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your troubled mind. The kind that blindsides you at 4 PM on some idle Tuesday.”

In my life I have found this to be amazingly true. Most of the things we worry about never materialize. We worry nonetheless and yet, the troubles which we DO NOT see coming are the ones that hit us right between the eyes. Sometimes they change our lives forever.  

Early this past week I received a family group text from my dad stating that our Uncle Ron was in intensive care and in very bad shape, suffering from advanced dementia. By Thursday he was gone. I still find it really difficult to believe, and yet it is true, nothing that I can do or say will change it. Importantly, life does go on just as it always has. Rather than worry about the “how did this happen” and “the why did this happen” concerns, I have decided to use this moment as an opportunity to share some of the heartfelt memories associated with Uncle Ron, and why it is really important that we celebrate, remember, and even learn a thing or two. His life was full of troubles, triumphs, and even mundane moments. This is part of being human. I write this as a way of coping with personal closure, in the hope that it will speak to others who knew Uncle Ron and to those who can commiserate with the parallels in their own lives.  

Ron McRoberts was born in Los Angeles, California in 1944 at a time of global war and life changing conflict (most people do not know that 75 million people died worldwide in that war); it was the defining event of the 20th century. It shaped the way people of that era thought. Death was personal rather than abstract (kind of difficult to imagine). He and my mom were also experiencing terrible personal trauma, as young children, dealing with the loss of their father Thomas / “Tommy” (32) to cancer in 1946 after a long battle with the deadly disease (in case you were wondering, I was named after Thomas). Ron, obviously, had no memory of this consciously and yet the subconscious (then little understood) ramifications of a loss like this are just starting to be unraveled by scientists and psychologists. Needless to say, life was hard, sadness was omnipresent, and innocence was lost one could reasonably assume. In 1949 the small family moved to Encinitas, California where there were some immediate family members nearby.  The better news, my grandmother (Lina) remarried a good man (Harry), and the new family added a daughter / sister (Margaret) to the mix, and it seems as though life normalized a bit after the shock of losing Thomas. For Ron, Harry was the father that he knew and from what I have been told, the new location and relationship were good for Ron. It is said among my family that Ron bore a strong resemblance to Thomas.

The next eventful story which I remember has to do with a fatal car crash in which Ron, now a junior in high school, was a passenger. Alcohol was involved and it was initially thought Ron was the driver. It ultimately turned out that he wasn’t, and sadly his best friend Vince (the actual driver) did in fact die in the crash. Ron sustained a serious injury to his arm. The injury was so severe that doctors initially wanted to remove the arm. My grandmother refused to consent to this. The arm ultimately healed though it was never fully functioning for the rest of his life. Recently my mom told me that they were newly married (1961) while all of this was happening. This included making a move from California to Minnesota for a promising job opportunity for my dad. They extended support from a far but were unable to be directly involved.    

I was born in 1963. I know that my mom and Ron retained a close relationship, especially after my parents returned to California shortly after my birth in Minneapolis, Minnesota. It was around this time that Uncle Ron was dubbed “Hammer” by my dad when on a visit to their new rented place in San Diego, Ron produced a much-needed hammer from his car. Funny, insignificant story, but I remember my dad always referring to Ron as “Hammer.” Amazing the little things our brains remember and store away over the years.

I have no specific memory of Uncle Ron becoming a beloved person in the lives of myself and my siblings, it was more of a gradual thing (Amy (oldest), me, Allison, and Carey (youngest). I do believe Carey was too young to recall some of this, but I remember well how we all played games and had adventures in ways that kids of today would probably have a hard time understanding. There were no iPhones and no internet. We were left to the machinations of our imaginations. Boredom was a constant companion and a capable foe, yet our imaginations would inevitably come to our rescue. I remember playing a game with Uncle Ron based on the cartoon Underdog Underdog (TV series) – Wikipedia.* I believe this may have been only Uncle Ron, Amy, and myself. We would all pretend to be characters from the cartoon, and Uncle Ron, as Underdog would always save the day (just like the cartoon). We had so much fun, and Uncle Ron would go along for as long as we wanted. I recall going to Balboa Park in San Diego and creating elaborate adventures. It was Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn circa late 1960’s and early 1970’s and we loved it. It probably provided my parents with some much need respite from the challenges of four young children.  

Once again time marches on inexorably and I remember two significant things relative to Uncle Ron. First, he started working for Pacific Southwest Airlines (PSA Airlines based in San Diego), and that he married Michelle (also a PSA employee) who had a son Geoff from a previous marriage. Geoff became a constant companion during those wonderful summer breaks at our place at 1659 Torrance Street in San Diego. He was essentially like a brother to me, and he would become quite close with my sisters as well. We had a pool and I remember spending hours upon hours in that pool enjoying the warm Southern California summers. Life was good as we navigated the golden years of life in a world that still had a strong sense of right and wrong. We never gave it much thought, we just knew our place in the pecking order of life and accepted it gladly. Funny, I don’t remember any of my guy buddies suddenly wanting to be addressed as Shirley??? 

I have many fond memories of family gatherings during holidays and random weekends in which the whole family would gather. It was food, fun, pool time, and an opportunity to renew the bonds that only family can provide. 1659 Torrance Street virtually sat atop the San Diego Airport. It was a magical spot; the evenings provided a spectacle of lights and activity that we took for granted; it was a constellation of activity and energy (and yes it could get a little loud). Uncle Ron, Aunt Michelle, Geoff, my grandparents, and Margaret were constants in our lives. We would always end the proceedings with a basketball shooting game in which every participant had to consecutively make a shot (distance based on their ability) before we could call it a night. Uncle Ron, Geoff, Allison, and myself (I can’t even remember who else participated). It was often quite dark before we managed to pull it off and Geoff was always the best part of the proceedings as he would live and die with every shot. We literally laughed until we cried at times. Uncle Ron was always so encouraging and patient. We loved him for his willingness to become one of us. Always fun, always kind, always patient, and always available.  

1978 become another important year in the story of Uncle Ron. PSA was a major West Coast airline at that time and Ron had a fairly high-ranking job in the Customer Service Division. PSA Flight 182 was a scheduled flight from Sacramento to San Diego with a stopover in Los Angeles. The date was September 25th, the flight had 128 passengers (including 29 PSA employees), and 7 crew members. The Boeing 727-214 collided midair with a Cessna 172 light aircraft with two passengers. Both planes went down in a (North Park), San Diego neighborhood. There were no survivors and a total of 144 fatalities which included 7 on the ground. Additionally, 9 people on the ground in the neighborhood were injured. At the time it was the worst aviation disaster in the country’s history. With the passage of time, it now stands as the sixth deadliest. Ron was supposed to be on that flight and in fact it was assumed that he was. Remember, there were no cell phones to get confirmation to the contrary on these kinds of things. Pacific Southwest Airlines Flight 182 – Wikipedia **

 Although it has never been confirmed, I’m sure that Uncle Ron (and Aunt Michelle), probably knew most of the 29 PSA employees and some of the crew quite well. Ron was called to the scene of the crash to help identify PSA personnel (sometimes that was just a body part). How in the world do you prepare yourself for something like this and perhaps more importantly, how do you recover from the shock of doing so. I know combat veterans face circumstances like this all the time, but that is war, not some random Monday. I do not remember ever talking to Ron about this. I was 15 at the time and I do remember the crash quite well as it was a huge story in San Diego.

This was around the time when I stopped seeing Uncle Ron as much. Our family had moved to Del Mar in North County San Diego in 1977 (1515 West Lane) and life began to change as it is wont to do. Uncle Ron never stopped being Uncle Ron to all of us kids. We simply saw him a lot less often as we started to become teenagers and young adults (me perhaps more so as I moved to Santa Barbara for college). I thought about Uncle Ron from time to time, hopeful that he was doing well. Geoff and I made a point to reach out to each other every Christmas in homage to the many wonderful memories of the past (which included lots of Christmas Day gatherings).

The last time I saw Uncle Ron was a very unhappy occasion (2016). *** It was at the funeral for my 18-year-old niece Kayla Castro (The only daughter of my sister Allison and her husband Larry). Kayla died in a climbing accident while a student at Grand Canyon University. Both he and Geoff attended. It was under the absolute worst of circumstances and yet it was so good to see them both. One of the things that struck me was how well Ron had aged, and how, despite all the difficult things he had endured, the Uncle Ron of old retained that spark that separated him from most people. He had every reason to be a different person, no one would have faulted him and yet, the better angels of his nature prevailed. 

One of the things that first struck me when I first heard about Uncle Ron, who was in his 79th year at the time of his passing, was the amazing power of the passage of time and the inevitable change which transforms each and every one of us. Physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual change. One can fight them (and lose), or you can surrender to them (and find a sense of peace). It is an either-or thing. And the end can come quickly as it did for Uncle Ron. I believe that death is not the end but merely a beginning.  I am hopeful that Ron shared that belief.  

“Then you walk to the window and stare at the moon
Riding high and lonesome through a starlit sky
And it comes to you how it all slips away
Youth and beauty are gone one day
No matter what you dream or feel or say
It ends in dust and disarray.”

Bob Seger- Fire Inside. The Fire Inside (youtube.com)

“I have told you these things, so that in me you might have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

John 16:33

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life,”

John 3:16

To this day when I find myself in San Diego, I occasionally head over to 1659 Torrance, and I remember all the good times we had there. Uncle Ron is certainly a person I associate with those times and that chapter of life. It will feel different now somehow, although “different” does not mean bad. Simply different… 

I also find myself visiting 1515 West Lane from time to time. Different chapter / different memories. I often find myself drawn to a mighty tree that grows on the border between our old next-door neighbor’s property, and think of my old friend Greg Wolf who planted a little sapling which was a free giveaway from The Growing Grounds (a nursery and gourmet cookware business my dad started, with a big assist from my mom). That now mighty tree has provided me with the greatest metaphor for the passage of time. I actually thought of that tree when I heard Uncle Ron had passed knowing that I had missed a great deal of his life and regretted the fact that I never took the time to tell him how much he meant to us. I think he knew yet I do feel guilty over not making more of an effort to stay in touch. The lesson here is that time does its thing irrespective of us. Take the time to remember the special people in your life, before days become weeks, weeks become months, months become years, and years become decades. I realize this is cliché’ yet it is useful cliché’.

“Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle. Because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young,”

Baz Luhrmann

The Sunscreen Song

I like to think of Uncle Ron looking down on all of us, anxiously awaiting the time we can be reunited. Something tells me he is up to his old tricks. Everyone needs an Uncle Ron!

Special mention of Ron’s cousins from my grandmother’s youngest brother George—– Steve and Rich. Ron remained close to them over the years and they both meant a great deal to him.

Special mention from my sister Allison- She wanted me to mention the hours of fun we had making fun of Goofus and Gallant. If you are under 50, you have no idea what I’m talking about.  Goofus and Gallant – Wikipedia. Truly cringe worthy. Kids can always tell when someone is trying too hard to be virtuous. We laughed until we cried (something we did often)!****

Ronald Thomas McRoberts- June 12th, 1944 —- March 21st, 2024.

Thomas M. Cook

3/25/2024 Oregon City / Oregon.