Raymond Guadagni
My friend that I have known since Alta Heights elementary school passed away the other day. We went through Alta Heights, Silverado and Napa High together as well as Napa Junior College. He played football for legendary coach Dick Vermeil.
Mike was 6'3" tall and weight 210 lbs at his fighting weight. He was known as Kid Kerns when he fought in the golden gloves. I was honored to be in his corner when he fought. He won the Golden Gloves Heavyweight championship for Northern California in the novice division. He was scheduled to fight the Police Athletic League champion who was from Pleasanton at Camp Parks. It was a match made for the press: a Black champion of the Police Athletic League, and a White champion from the Golden Gloves. The black boxer's name was George Foreman.
George Foreman had to pull out of the fight due to an injury. Mike and I used to joke that Foreman was afraid of the Kid. Really though, we both knew that if Mike had fought Foreman, he would have forever after taken his meals through a straw.
Mike was a risk taker. Besides boxing, he loved to sing. He loved Elvis. As a police officer in Petaluma, he formed a singing group comprised of four police officers. They called themselves the Pigtones. They weren't bad, although they only had one former professional musician in the group.
Mike was also a decent impressionist. His specialties were Guido Sarducci,the priest from SNL; Comedian Foster Brooks, who always appeared to be drunk; and Cliff Claven from Cheers.
Mike had many talents. He was articulate and had a commanding speaking voice. The police chief of Petaluma, who did not enjoy speaking to the press, appointed Mike to be the spokesperson for the Petaluma police department in the high profile, high pressure, Polly Klaas case. I told Mike what a compliment it was that the chief selected him. Mike just swatted that compliment aside, saying the chief knew Mike didn't do any work anyway and besides the Chief couldn't shut Mike up, so he decided to make Mike the spokesperson. Mike did a fabulous job.
At one press conference in the Polly Klaas case, Mike was emotional and teared up. Subsequently, two women called the chief to find out if Mike was married.
We were inseparable. Our connection was built on trying to make the other one laugh by running things to the ground. Belly laughing was our goal.
The last time I saw him was in the hospital. The decision had been made by the family to unplug Mike from life support, but not until his daughter arrived from Indiana. She made it in time, and after they talked and exchanged their loving sentiments Mike was able to let go.
I also was able to talk to him and he was still in possession of his sense of humor. After being there for over an hour, I finally went up to his bedside to thank him for his friendship. I stood next to the hospital bed and stated, "Mike, I am going to kiss you now, and I want to thank you once again for being a great friend to me. I love you." Then I kissed him on his forehead.
As I stepped away - and it was only one step - Mike, his voice still booming, said to his wife, "Carol, go get me a towel, I don't know where Ray's lips have been." Without thinking, I followed suit and told Carol, "Carol, get me a towel too - I don't know where his forehead has been." And there we were again - two old buddies continuing to jab each other to the very end.
I got to the door of the room and hadn't even opened it when Mike said "Raymond, I love you." And that was it.
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