Posted on: Mar 31, 2025 at 2:33 AM

As a measure of the kind of friend Ron could be a little story likely known only to a very few.  Ron was taking USMC PLC training in Virginia when I graduated from the Merchant Marine Academy in New York, just outside the City.  He came to my graduation in August but he needed a place to stay for a few days.  He and I figured why not Kings Point?  He had all the necessary military bearing, he just needed to fit in to the KP crowd....uniform, marching around campus, bed, that kind of thing.  So he briefly (and successfully) became a KP cadet until I graduated.

We hauled potatoes out of the field for pocket money, each in our own ten wheeler.  We zoomed around in his cool Austin Healy (when it ran), he drug me to the top of Baldy when I couldn't ski and mentored me to the bottom.  We went to Elko to play football and he forgot his cleats.  Nobody had his foot size so he played in street shoes.  I put tacks in his seat at school and he took it with great good humor. BRACKENBURY he'd yell!  He was a gifted cartoonist.  Even with no training Ron could have made a  living with his imagination and his pencil.  He was an awesome guy in so many ways.  I'm glad he was my friend.  Go with God Marine.  Semper Fi!

Ron came to my graduation in NY all the way from Virginia. We shared some special memories. I am shocked to learn of his passing. Go with God my friend.

Posted on: Mar 31, 2024 at 2:33 AM

Posted on: Oct 02, 2023 at 2:57 PM

Posted on: Mar 31, 2023 at 2:33 AM

Posted on: Mar 31, 2022 at 2:33 AM

Julie and Linda were very good friends (maybe "Besties") and shared a lot of memories together, many more than I know.  Linda and I frequently stopped at Ben and Julie's house when we were in Boise for other reasons.  I/we had a lot of respect for how this woman handled her arthritific afflictions.  Heroically.  I'm sorry Ben now has to go on alone.  RIP Julie.

Posted on: Mar 31, 2021 at 2:33 AM

I was saddened to get the message of his passing.

My most cherished memories have to do with the toil of putting up hay at his family farm.  Riding the slip, stacking the bales with his grandpa (I think that's who it was) backing the tractor back and forth lifting the bales onto the stack with a Johnson (also called Jackson) hay fork.  Richard would smile to hear me say that the best parts were the meals in his mom's kitchen...that seemed to go on and on...and sated the hungry teenaged boys.  There wasn't a reunion that we didn't talk about these memories with each other.

I benefitted in knowing him, and his perpetual ear-to-ear smile.  RIP Richard.