This is the eulogy I gave yesterday for my good friend, who died from pancreatic cancer at the age of 51. I don't kow why I'm putting it here, maybe I'd just like more people to know him, and to be sorry he is gone.
Ronnie McKay was my friend.
I remember when I met Ronnie. I was walking down Mount Pleasant Avenue, and Ronnie was there with another friend of mine. It was 1969, we were 15 years old, and Ron was the coolest of the cool. I remember how he looked. Long, thick black hair, long black coat, shirt open at the neck, jeans over riding boots. He was a cross between Clint Eastwood and the Fonz. I wondered "Who IS this guy?" I soon found out.
There are some people you meet that are special, that instantly become part of your life. It was like that with Ron. Soon after we met, we became inseparable. We clicked. For the rest of his life, Ronnie was a part of my life. We did a lot together. We hitch hiked together, we laughed together, we played endless games of chess together. Ronnie was there when I met my wife, he spent a couple of weeks in the woods with me helping me rebuild my camp, he was there when I shot my first deer, he was there through the best times I had. There are few people that know you as well as those friends you grew up with.
I remember then, when we were very young, how much I loved his company. In fact, a few times, I would sneak out of my parents house, and we would walk around all night, until after the sun came up, just shooting the breeze and enjoying each others company. My poor parents must have wondered what we were up to, but the truth is, we were causing absolutely no trouble, Even as a young teenager, causing trouble was simply not in Ronnie's character.
I soon discovered how much more there was to Ron than cool. He was brilliant. He loved books. Especially books on history. This was something I shared with Ron, and we spent countless hours
discussing the character of Napolean Bonaparte, or Winston Churchill, or the ancient peoples of South America. Ronnie knew about a lot of things. He educated himself, and he did a pretty good job of it.
Ronnie was a poet at heart. He wrote wonderful poetry. He used it to express his feelings about his friends, his life, his family. He amazed his high school English teacher, and those who knew
him. I know any of you that have lines he wrote will treasure them.
And music. Ronnie loved music. He wrote songs, and he put them to music. He loved ballads, and I loved hearing his music, on the few occassions he would play his songs in front of anyone. I
remember him sitting at the camp playing his ballad "Strawberry Roan", and it was beautiful.
I can't say we always agreed on music. When he was young, Ron's taste ran to Neil Diamond. Mine ran to Led Zeppelin. We spent a lot of time at my parent's house, and I played Zepplin One over
and over and over again. Ron couldn't stand it, and suddenly I couldn't find my album. It had disappeared. The mystery was solved suddenly when, by accident, I found the missing album tucked carefully under the carpet by the stereo. I had no doubt who the culprit was.....and from then we said music we didn't like belonged "under the carpet".
Ron had a wonderful sense of humor. He looked at things with a slightly different eye. He was perhaps, a little cynical, but never, never petty or vicious. Like him, his humour was gentle.
He saw the humour in almost anything. I remember talking about old movies with Ron, specifically the old western "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly". "Yeah", Ronnie said, "they killed the Bad,
then they were just good and ugly."
I remember I used to drag Ronnie off to the woods. I took him hunting a few times, but it was never his thing. But he came, sometimes I think just to keep me company. I remember once we
were in Albert County, and we got soaking wet walking through the trees. So, at noon, I lent Ronnie a pair of my grandfather's old wool pants. Now, one thing Ronnie never was, is tall. But
those pants didn't even reach his ankles. Ronnie didn't mind, in fact he loved it. He walked around with his chest stuck out all afternoon.
Ronnie's life wasn't easy though. There was something in him that would not leave him at peace. For awhile, I lost contact with him, as he battled, and lost for a time, a fight within his own
mind. I can't begin to imagine what he had to deal with. I watched as he slipped into despair and paranoia. I could do nothing. His family could do nothing. He withdrew into himself, and lost himself inside his own mind. He became a lone soul fighting a loosing battle, and he withdrew from his friends. He slipped away from us. We didn't see him for years. It was his
family that helped him, getting him treatment and hospitalization.
But Ronnie wasn't gone. He came back. The story is that Ronnie was recovering, and beginning to feel much better in hospital. One day he was in the hallway, smoking and talking with a visitor,
when two trainee nurses stopped close by. One nurse says to the other, "I'm surprized to see you here". The other replies "Oh, I'm here for orientation" The light came on in Ronnie's eyes. "That's funny" he called out "I'm here for disorientation"
Welcome back Ronnie.
Ronnie faced his illness with a courage, and a determination, that left me in awe. He was determined to be independent, he was stubborn as a mule, and woe to the person that tried to
control him, to talk down to him, to make him be what they thought he should be. He kept his illness in check largely with a mental self discipline that I can only admire. Yet, as his
friend Darlene said to me on the day he died, he was never, never bitter. It wasn't in his character. And he could always, always laugh at himself.
A final story. I remember when Ronnie lived in a nice little apartment off of Spruce Street. I went to visit him. He complained that he seemed to have developed a thing for paper products. "What do you mean?" I asked, so opened his closet door, and the entire closet was jammed, floor to ceiling, with rolls of toilet paper. I looked at him, he looked at me, grinned, and we lost it. We both laughed until we couldn't stand up.
Ronnie McKay was many things. He was courageous. He was intelligent. He was incredibly funny. He was immensely talented. He was great company, and he was as good, and as true a friend as any person could hope for. I was priviledged to know him, and to call him my friend.
I hope, I pray, I know he has found peace.
Thank you.