RON WADDINGTON - How does one remember one's childhood best friend?
I want to remember Ron Waddington today. He was the brother I never had.
I first met Ron when he was 3 and I had just turned 4. From then for the next ten years we were as close as any two people could be. And while we lost touch with each other from 1976 to 1998, when we got together in 1998, it was as if we had never been apart. We came out to each other that first contact in 26 years and think of all the wasted time during that period – we had never even played around. By 1998, Ron was positive and had had at leats one episode with his lungs.
Today is the first anniversary of his death. I can hardly believe it. It seems so recent. My honouring him here means I am going to include here the memorial I gave at his memorial service.
Thank you for asking me to say a few words about Ron. I probably knew Ron before any of you here, including Harriet. When my parents moved to Riverside Nov. 1, 1947, Ron stared out his dining room window watching the movers. I had been left behind with my grandparents but my mother told me about Ron as soon as I arrived and by Christmas that year we had played together outside. We became very close and throughout elementary school, we were quite exclusive in our friendship.
My first thought about speaking today was to try to paint word pictures of memories I had of Ron - things we had done together. I even thought of writing a poem but you see I am challenged in artistic ways. Then, I started to think that was not the essence of my friendship with Ron and how much he meant as a person - something others in this room will relate to.
Thus, I made a list of memories. I then made a list of feelings I had as a child, and as an adult. You see Ron and I lost touch from 1972 to 1998. Yet, when I came out of the Chester Subway Station and Ron and George walked up, it was as if Ron and I had never missed any time together - sure we had different memories and I had children and a wife and Ron had George and memories of Jim and Lou.
By the summer of 2001, both Ron and I were single, having lost our partners that summer and we found daily companionship in swimming and doing so many other things together. I would get enthusiastic phone calls at 2 or 3 in the morning. The night he met Cisco was one such night - it was part of his quest to find someone young he could take care of.
Ron introduced me to the Barn and my first male dance. When I would meet him at Woodys, he would have been there early and already be talking to someone. He was such a friendly fellow. He even set me up to date a guy. His quest for relationship, his liking of people were trademarks.
I took him to MCC for early service every week and then we would go for brunch after - he kept reminding me that I had taken him to Sunday School when we were young and those were the only times in his life when he had connections to the church although I know he was a believer.
He readily shared his writing and such talent he had. I had known his great grandmother - she took us to strawberry socials at her church and his grandmother and I often went up to the cottage with his father but as I read his writings I saw people in such a different light.
I knew Ron and I were kindred spirits but as I look back it was if we were meant to be friends for life. Neither of us fit in at recess with the sports-minded class mates so we shunned the baseball games and instead talked as early as grade 3 (we changed to Princess Elizabeth School for Grade 4) about guys we liked the looks of, found their addresses, and rode our bikes past their houses. If we had realized what that meant about orientation, we would both have had an easier time of it later.
We played school almost daily, taking turns at being the teacher and the pupil - moving a student desk and setting up a school room in Ron’s basement. It is interesting that we both became teachers. We even started a student newspaper at our last elementary school.
Ron’s concern for others came out always. He asked me about my sons pretty well every time I saw him even when he was desperately ill at the end and it is ironic that the weekend of his death was the weekend on which my first grandchild was born.
I have an image of Ron which sticks in my mind as such a contrast to these last weeks. At Balm Beach, there used to be a horse stable and we would go riding at least once a week. One time, the Beckets, my mother, Ron, my sister Diane and I were out on the trail and Ron’s horse had a sudden burst of energy galloping down a fork in the trail to the dump with Ron holding on for dear life. The guide who was with us stopped us and told us to stay on the trail while she went riding off to retrieve Ron. Last time I was up at the cottage, Ron and I discussed this happy memory.
Ron had a quest for travel and when we realized how easily we got on together as we travelled, he suggested we go to Sicily in April 2002. That was never to be but we continued to talk about it.
At Christmas 2001, I had to be in Phoenix for work. I invited Ron along. He would swim and hot tub while I worked and then he would come to the place where I was working for coffee break and lunch. Often he was out talking to the students by the time I was ready to join him. It was a glorious week and he always had tales to tell of who he had met in the hot tub. He wanted to go to Talisman West as he admired Frank Lloyd Wright - and he got me started on visiting Wright places for since then I have visited his place in Oak Park IL and Falling Waters in PA. I am glad that his last trip was so happy. We flew back here on Tuesday Jan. 1 and by Friday Ron was feeling down and while we swam a few times in early January his enthusiasm left him.
I end this by noting how much I have come to appreciate all that Harriet has done this past year. She had him admitted to Toronto Western at about the time I was getting concerned enough to start looking for her phone number, not knowing her married name. She had a birthday party for Ron June 23. It was one of his better times during 2002. She took food to him regularly when he was home and visited him almost daily when in hospital and Casey House. Harriet, please accept my thanks and my admiration and know that we experience your loss with you.
For the loss you had
Words do not heal
In this hard time
Let us know what we can do that soothes
As our sympathy rests with you.
I indicated I made two lists before writing the memorial – they are my quick thoughts and feelings so I am including them here too.
IDEAS ABOUT RON:
Probably the only one in the room who knew Ron as a 3 year old
We played together, went to school together, spent weeks at the cottage together, learned to play golf together, etc.
Guess what we played - Ron had in his unfinished basement a school desk and we used to play school. Ron would pull out dictionaries and look up words.
We started together a student newspaper at Princess Elizabeth School before they used Gestetner machines. Mr. Anderson, our Principal helped us.
Ron was a year behind me in school, skipped, caught up to me, and then I skipped to keep ahead of him.
I moved away when I was in Grade 9. Ron came to visit in Amherstburg occasionally and when I was 16, I had a 3 day old sister die and the Waddingtons took my 5 year old sister and Mother in while my Father and my 14 year old sister and I attended funeral services.
In 1972, Ron was 28 - he attended my sister’s wedding and by then his father had died. Because of circumstances I did not get to talk to him much that night.
In 1998 as I was returning from a contract job in the US, I crossed the Bridge into Windsor and my mind flooded with thoughts of Ron. I drove on home to Waterloo and one of the first things I did when I got there was to go into my office to pick up phone messages and mail. Terry from Windsor had phoned - he had been visiting Toronto and had met Ron. He knew where I had lived and realized Ron must have lived right near - well when Ron told him next door he got Ron’s number and left me a voice mail with it. I phoned Ron immediately and we not only came out to each other, we talked as if nothing had separated us.
I met with George and Ron one morning before a noon-hour meeting I had in Toronto.
When George was first admitted to hospital in early 2001, I took Ron out to dinner a couple of times.
When I phoned Ron on his birthday in 2001, he informed me that George had died the night before and asked if I would come over the next day - I did and we went out together for dinner
Bob, Ron and I were going to go to the Botanical Gardens in Burlington July 2 but Bob went to the Hospital July 1 - so Ron and I went and returned to Bob’s Hospital Room.
When Bob was weak, I picked him up at the doctor’s office, took him with Ron to one of the Greek Restaurants on the Danforth and then we went back to Ron’s for coffee before I took Bob home. Little did I realize that was Bob’s last night before going into the hospital for Bob was dead two weeks later.
Bob had arranged twice-yearly dinners for the men of HOW here in Toronto. One of his last requests was that I organize the fall dinner so I did that the night prior to Bob’s memorial. Ron suggested we go the same places as Bob had been his last night and hosted the group at his house.
He was lively and read several of his stories to people he had never met before. He showed them the wonderful house from basement to top floor.
Bob’s memorial was Sunday and Ron spoke at the memorial. I felt that was in support of me.
The night Ron met Cisco, he phoned me about 2 a.m. to tell me he had picked Cisco up and had him at the house - he was so taken with Cisco’s youth.
In the summer and fall of 2001, Ron had asked me about MCC so I offered to take him. I would pick him up, we would go to the early service and then go for brunch at the Detroit Grill or down at the Rainbow Diner. He kept reminding me that he liked going to MCC and that I had taken him to Sunday School as a child. He seemed to feel there was a connection.
I discovered I had to go to Phoenix Dec. 27 for work and offered to Ron to have him go with me. He wanted Cisco to go with him but Cisco could not go and Ron and I had a delightful time. While I worked, Ron would swim and sit in the hot tub and explore the cacti across the way from our suite. He would come over to where I was working for coffee break and for lunch and dinner. My food allowance covered our meals and the room was paid for so Ron’s cost was his flight.
We flew back Jan 1, a Tuesday. Ron had his luggage gone through, his shoes tested, etc. as if he were a criminal at the security and I did at the gate - we must have looked like a strange couple.
By Friday of that week when I phoned Ron told me of his depression. He did bring Cisco and company to my place to swim twice after that and when he got into the pool, he seemed fine but he did not come with the enthusiasm he had before.
I would phone and Cisco or Helen would answer and tell me Ron was upstairs asleep. I asked them about food and about medication and when I talked to Ron, I always asked him if they were taking care of him. I had a suspicion Ron was not getting nourishment or medication as he should.
I was relieved to hear from Harriet that he was in Toronto Western - I had gotten to the point where I had decided to phone her to express my concerns. I rushed down to see Ron and he seemed to be much better than when I talked to him on the phone - playing the perfect host.
Ron had a huge sore in his mouth when he went home in May. Yet, when I offered to go get him some Greek food he was happy and made sure he would come with me.
Then, it was Christmas week when I went into Casey House and realized that he was not going to last He was able to talk and ask questions but kept drifting away. It was that time I could not stay long because I hated to see him that way and I went outside and cried on Alexander’s shoulder.
I was in to see Ron Wednesday before he died. He was not able to react much but when I kissed his forehead, he reacted and I knew he knew someone was there for his hand reacted to me taking it as well - the ravages of his disease were evident but I felt his presence.
Thoughts about Ron:
I remember Ron as a youngster - full of fun and yet serious - I am told watching those people moving in next door from their Dining Room window. That was November 1947.
I remember playing school in Ron’s basement (we moved the desk and stuff there from the family room above Ron’s garage) - we would play at it for hours and then in later years we would both become teachers.
I remember us looking up in the dictionary what it meant to be circumcised yet we never played around ourselves - we were too absorbed in the books that were at the cottage and too exhausted - we slept together in the front bedroom at the cottage and it amazes me we never did any playing doctor. Mind you, he did get caught one time playing doctor with my sister in our attic but they were only 5 and 4 at the time.
I remember the time Ron’s horse went galloping off towards the dump at Balm Beach. My mother who was riding with us was horrified. The lady from the stables went galloping after Ron’s horse while we stood still on the trail until she brought them back.
I remember going over to Ron’s grandmother’s place and there was a creek nearby and for once we explored for frogs etc. I remember Grandma Tullock, Ron’s great grandmother taking us tow little tykes to the strawberry social at her church.
I remember the night our families went up to Balm Beach - stopping in Hamilton to close the deal on the cottage. When I went up to the cottage in 2001, Ron wanted to show me the deed which my father had drawn up as the lawyer and which my mother had signed as a witness. That night in Hamilton us children were left in the lobby while the legal work was done upstairs and Prime Minister St. Laurent went through the lobby - we had some excitement to talk about to our parents when they came down.
I remember at school, Ron and I never joined with the boys to play baseball or their games. We used to look for guys in the school yard to whom we were attracted and find out as much as we could so we could ride by their place - this was before grade 4 because we moved to a new school in grade 4 - now if we knew what that meant about our orientation both of us would have had an easier time of it later on.
I remember reading Ron’s stories of his grandmother, his coming out, his trip on the back of a motorcycle and thinking how amazing all this was (the writing, the style, and the insight) and how little I knew the people like his grandmother Hilda and his father despite having spent hours with these people.
I remember Ron’s quest for a young person who would let Ron look after him.
I remember Ron’s comforting word’s as I coped with loss so soon after George had died.
I remember Ron’s commitment to George despite the hardship and pain that George put him through in that last period.
I remember Ron’s enthusiasm for exploring - Talisman West, the botanical gardens.
I remember Ron’s wanting me to go to Sicily with him in April, 2002 - his enthusiasm and his quest for knowledge tied into that.
I remember getting of the subway at Chester after not having seen Ron in 26 years and how when he and George walked down to greet me, how Ron and I found it to be almost like we had never missed time together - we had different experiences but our rapport was the same.
I remember how he would ask me each time he saw me about my sons. He was concerned when my oldest son decided he did not wish to see me and assured me it would all work out.
I remember the excitement he had up at the cottage, as a youngster and again as an adult showing me the changes wrought over the years.
I remember Ron taking me to my first male only dance at the Barn.
I remember meeting Ron at Woodys - finding he had gotten there early and already made friends.
I remember Ron coming to my place to swim and the first thing he would do would be to make us drinks which we would sip and talk before swimming.
I remember him throwing a dime into the bottom of the 7'6" deep end of the pool and us diving for it - something I never had done before in my life. And how we used a ball, a quarter, and a penny in subsequent dives and we only lost one dime over several months.
I remember him coming to coffee or lunch in Phoenix and he would already be talking to my students and helping me get new students. He always had stories about the people he had met in the hot tub too.
Even though Ron was manic in the fall of 2001, and I cringed sometimes, I could explain his behaviour because he kept warning me how he had a manic period before followed by depression and asked me to help him watch for signs. It was his belief that it was the medication which caused it.
A Rather Wild Trip
Friday January 16 will be a day not soon to forget. I was set to travel to Chicago via Amtrak at 6:35 in the morning. I left the apartment about an hour prior to train time and because of the cold, there were few taxis running along Church but I managed to get one within the first five minutes. The train station was coming to life but there were no newspapers available which is exactly what I wanted to get there early to get.
Thursday had started out not very well. I got into the shower only to find there to be NO water so I had to go and get my hair done without having shaved or showered. I did have enough of a dribble out of the cold water tap that I had been able to brush my teeth.
I had not slept well. I had wanted to go to Statler’s for a drink Thursday night and Alexander and I went over in the cold. We did get home before midnight which is unusual for us. However, when I got home I thought I had better get my ticket out but alas it was not where I thought I had put it. Thus I was late getting to bed. Then I awakened before the alarm and was sure I was not going back to sleep. I was most anxious to get a shower before I left the apartment.
The line-up to get on the train had already started by the time I determined there was no newspaper. Thus, I went and lined up. Jean-Marc, a Via employee spoke kindly, took my information and checked my name off as going to the US.
He said we would be loading at 6:15 which was about 15 minutes so obviously I stayed in line. At about 6:15 his radio crackled and they told him the train would not be in the station until 6:30 but at 6:30 Jean-Marc appeared again to inform us that there were mechanical problems with the train and that we were to sit down . He told us then that if they did not get the mechanical problems fixed shortly, they would bus us.
About 6:50, Jean-Marc appeared again to tell us the bus would be leaving at 8:00 and we were free to go to be back at the seating area by 7:45. Thus, I headed off to find something to eat and a newspaper. I also made a call to Alexander to inform him of what was going on. I enjoy talking to him.
Everything went fine until we got outside to the bus in the cold and the driver had locked the door so we had to await his return to open it for us.
From the bus, I phoned Allison and told her that we were late leaving and making part of the trip at least via bus. We skipped Malton, Brampton, and Guelph stops as no one was getting on or off at those stops but Kitchener was our first challenge. We pulled in and a bunch of people got off and others got on and we took off. The bus driver started out on the Conestoga Parkway and got a call to pull off at Fischer-Hallman Drive and head to the Canadian Tire Store. He ended up going beyond and getting down a hill on Block Line Rd. to turn around in someone’s driveway [can you imagine a bus turning around in your driveway?] and had to slide going up hill. Apparently, at Kitchener they had told people we were going to be later and one passenger showed up just as the bus pulled out so they brought her to catch the bus at the Canadian Tire Store.
At Stratford, the bus driver left the station and headed out the wrong way. He claimed the instructions he had been given showed north and south rather than right and left. He turned around in a farmer’s lane and got onto the right course for St. Mary’s. Between Stratford and St. Mary’s the bus driver slammed his brakes at least twice and one passenger screamed at him because things had fallen.
The St. Mary’s Railroad Station is a disaster from the road. It is down a hill with a tiny parking lot. There was one little old lady waiting so the bus driver drove down the hill, got her onto the bus but then had a terrible time turning the bus around and even worse was his attempt to get up the hill. He made it to the top but traffic forced him to stop and then he could not get going again. He backed up, tried several times and the last time shot out into traffic and almost hit a car, which had no idea of why it did not have right-of-way. All other vehicles had stopped. Rubber smell filled the bus and you could sense the driver’s frustration.
In London, Amtrak did have sandwiches and drinks arranged which they loaded and served. They then announced that they were going to leave us at the Port Huron Railway Station [an unmanned station] until the train from Chicago arrived at 5. That train would then turn around and head back to Chicago while the passengers going to points in Canada would ride back on the bus.
The experience in Port Huron was most interesting and even fun. There were 16 of us going on to Chicago. The 16 were as different as could be. One woman had a young child with her, another was pregnant. There was a young guy who was talking up the pregnant woman. One woman who took a real interest in the mother and her young child used her cell phone to complain to Amtrak Railroad. There was an older Chinese couple who had difficulty with the language and there was Zia and myself. I had noticed Zia early on the bus but it was only in Sarnia that we started to speak. I noted he had a rainbow triangle on his luggage and so I let him know that I was also gay.
Well, the pregnant woman decided she wanted pizza and the young fellow with her started to make phone calls. They then invited the rest of us to join in and most of us did. It took a while but everyone put in their preferences and in the end we got four large pizzas of various kinds so that everyone would be happy. Large bottles of pop were ordered as well.
We were clearly in a jovial mood. The station was not manned – almost abandoned. It was bitterly cold outside and the only pay phone was outside. Zia smoked and so he had to go outside every little while to smoke. I went out with him on one occasion.
The young guy who was ordering the pizzas could not find a Domino’s Pizza and so he phoned a hotel, which had a phone number in the station and asked for pizza places, which might be near the station. It was funny because when he did get a pizza place they asked for the address of the station – surely there is only one railroad station in Port Huron.
Well, we got out pizza delivered finally. Everyone ate – including the young child and the Chinese couple. The people were singing, laughing, and feeling kind of giddy – when does a group of 16 strangers have a pizza party in an abandoned railroad station?
About 4:15 local Port Huron people started to arrive for the 5 p.m. train. Many had been there just before noon to catch the train and finally some one had told them the Chicago train due in at 5 p.m. was going to take them to Chicago. Eventually someone came into the station to tell us that the train from Chicago was an hour late.
Finally, after darkness fell, the train from Chicago pulled in. They asked us to wait in the station while those arriving disembarked and then they let is on. Because they wanted to turn the train around, we backed up what seemed like hours and shuffled back and forth until eventually they got us going at a reasonable speed. As we looked at our watches, Zia and I calculated it took between 60 and 90 minutes just to turn us around.
By then, Zia knew he had missed his connection to Milwaukee and I knew I was going to be really late getting to Chicago. At about Gary Indiana, I phoned Alison and she told me that Trevor would be there to meet the train at 1 a.m., which is when they told them it would arrive.
As it turned out, the train arrived at about 12:20 and Trevor was not there. I phoned Alison again as they were locking the station doors at 12:30. She phoned Trevor in his car and it was agreed where we would meet outside. So the long and peculiar journey ended with Trevor picking me up.
