THE RON YEARS

THE RON YEARS

I used to joke with my sisters that my next man was going to be a Harley man with tattoos. I think I sealed my future with that comment. Ron fit that description. I first met him at church. He would bring his wife in in a wheelchair and take care of her and I was impressed at that. I thought he was this grandfatherly laid-back guy that was always at church every Sunday. Not so. 

His wife died and he and I began dating. We never married but we dated for six years. As is turns out, he was one of the founding members of the Outlaw motorcycle gang in Chicago. He was a beer-drinking, pot-smoking mess. He left Chicago when the Outlaws got involved in gunfights and a bullet narrowly missed his head. He eventually ended up in Texas. He got a job as a welder making decent money but still liked his beer and pot. 

God got his attention when he started having portions of his colon removed until his whole colon was removed. The hospital chaplain came into his room one day and asked if he could pray with him. Ron said "Yow, if it makes you feel better." So the chaplain began to pray and Ron said something came over him and when the chaplain quit praying, he felt cleansed. He was ready to give up drinking, pot smoking and smoking in general. People were in awe of how much he changed and they were dumbfounded when he spoke about Jesus. This was not the guy they were used to.

People were still in awe of Ron just because of who he used to be. He had a winning smile and personality, a quick wit, and he never lost his swagger. He attracted women like flies to food. And he had a beautiful head of white hair, a masterpiece. It could blow in the wind when he rode his motorcycle and go right back into place. He still had muscles in his shoulders and chest until his dying days.

There were some good times with Ron and some not-so-good times, such as when he had two motorcycle accidents and then was diagnosed with cancer. In the first accident Ron was riding around town on his "bike" after a CMA (Christian Motorcycle Assn.) meeting. It was one of the first warm nights of spring and he was enjoying it. He got as far as Long John Silver's and a truck turned in front of him. It was totally unexpected. Ron held onto his bike so that he didn't go flying through the air and into the truck. But he fractured his knee when he went down. He had 8 weeks of recuperation and I was his caretaker and driver.

About two or three years later he was in another accident near Maryville. He caught the edge of a curb at an odd-shaped intersection. He and his bike went catapulting separately end over end. He had a big gash above his eye, a broken neck and a bad case of road rash on his right arm. They stitched up his eye and did a CT scan to see if any other damage was done. That's when they discovered his neck was fractured. He had to wear a collar for six weeks. They also discovered that he had cancer in his pancreas. He refused treatment for it no matter how much I or the doctors begged. 

He lived 2 1/2 more years without treatment. I was his caretaker through the broken neck healing process also. He was able to do most everything until his last few months, then taking care of him was extremely difficult because I was showing signs of Rheumatoid Arthritis myself and was unable to do things for him such as lift him. Fortunately his sister lived down the road and she was able to lift him. He lived with his disabled sister. She could do nothing except make a phone call but I was glad she was there to do that. He was not a good patient because he was stubborn and had no patience. But I would be too if I were in his shoes and probably worse. He thought I ought to be with him every minute but I just couldn't. We were usually together from noon on. I had to shorten the evening time also, but that was before the bike accidents.

We went dancing Friday and Saturday evening every weekend. I never listened to country music before but learned to like some of it and I also learned to like line dancing. I was good at it until I realized my flexibility and balance were messed up. That was the RA causing it but I hadn't been diagnosed yet. My right hip hurt when I side-stepped such as with the two-step. I couldn't finish a dance. But it was fun while it lasted. Ron and I would glide across the floor and all of the ladies wanted to dance with him. They only got the chance when he and I broke up and we did that fairly often.

Ron, his sister, her man friend, and I went to hear the Headhunters in concert in Benton. They were really good. The singers took a breather and let the drummer go and he played a song the tempo of Wipe Out and he went on and on and on. He should have been exhausted. We were exhausted listening to him. Then Ron leaned over and said, "The only way they're going to get him to stop is to shoot him." He had such a hilarious way of saying things in his rural accent, partly from living in Texas 25 years or so. He was in pain from his cancer but hadn't lost his wit.

Another thing that happened that cracked me up happened at Aldi's. We were in the first aisle, him on one side looking at things and me on the other side. A fairly distinguished man came in and I thought nothing of it, but when he passed Ron (I still had my back turned), he said, "Would you hand me that, Honey?" I wondered why Ron didn't sock him in the nose or give him a tongue lashing. I turned around and Ron was picking up a jar of honey off of the shelf to give to him.

I would sometimes get an upset stomach when we went to dances so I put some baking soda in little clear zipper packets. He put them in his Harley bag made of fabric along with other things we might need. He came to my house one day and said some juveniles had stolen things out of his bag while his bike was parked outside. I was upset too until I remembered the packets. He said they stole those too. They probably thought they were getting cocaine. We could picture the juveniles somewhere sniffing baking soda.

Ron wasn't perfect but he did bring me out of my shell for six years and gave me a more active life. He thought the world of me and he would tell me I have no idea how beautiful I am. Every woman wants to hear that. It could be that he knew how to play his cards well, but I'll take it. That's the one time you can lie to me and I'm OK with it.