Bob Ring: One That Got Away

I am pretty lazy and pretty busy. Given that combination of trait and circumstance, you can imagine that there are not many people who could inspire me to do anything (even a fun thing), that I didn't plan and choose myself.

Fewer people still could inspire me to dig a ladder out from behind the clutter in my garage, climb the ladder, precariously shuffle heavy boxes across high shelves in search of a particular heavy box that contained thousands of old photos, and then spend the better part of a day looking for one specific shot. Bob Ring is one of the few. He inspired me.

He married my cousin when I was a kid and I honestly never knew him very well. But I know that I have three indelible memories of him. Given that I only met him about a dozen times in my life, that's a pretty good hit rate for laying down indelible memories. In my book, that makes him special. 

The first memory is of a day when he joined me and my brother for a round of golf during the summer after I graduated high school. My brother and I were beginners at the sport, but like all golfers, we lived for the occasional good shot when you could watch the ball sail high and far toward the target. I remember that Bob was having vision problems at the time and could not see the flight of his ball after striking it. I wondered how he could possibly enjoy golf if he couldn't see his ball.

His solution was that, after striking the ball, he would turn to observe our faces as we watched it sail away. He would interpret the quality of his shot from the vector of our collective gaze and the tone of our facial expressions. I remember being fascinated at how he held onto his love of golf even though his failing vision had presented a seemingly unassailable obstacle in his path. I don't remember any specific golf shot from that day; I only remember that Bob impressed me as a passionate person who simply would not be denied his fill of joy. I knew then that he was an innately positive person.

A more recent memory is depicted in the (hard to find and retrieve) photo above. I'm not sure why I have always remembered this moment, but it perfectly encapsulated Bob's self-deprecating sense of humor and his ability to make people laugh. His triumphant pose after landing this "lunker" (his description) epitomized his well-grounded character. There's an old saying that "people remember how you make them feel" and Bob always made me feel relaxed and happy. That's probably why I vividly remember this otherwise uneventful day.

And my most visceral memory is of the toast he gave at his eldest daughter's wedding. I don't remember the town, or the church, or even with whom I attended, but I clearly remember Bob's short and eloquent speech welcoming his son-in-law into the family. Coming from a man I had only ever known to behave in a light-hearted and jovial manner, the straight-forward sensitivity of his words struck me as exemplary. 

Bob died recently, a great catch that got away too soon; but I know he lives on prominently in the hearts and minds of those he inspired.