No matter our ages, when one of our contemporaries dies, it hits a little harder. It makes us face the inevitable. It gives us pause to reflect upon our purpose on Earth and to examine our progress or even our failures. We’ve had another loss in our family this week when Cousin Ron Williams passed away just days after his 62nd birthday.
As kids, Ron was one of my older cousins, and our age difference seemed insurmountable in the social dynamics of our family. As children, one or two years seems a lifetime. As adults, those differences melt away the more we socialize together. Fortunately, in the Pedersen family, we’ve made a concerted effort to know each other better, to enjoy the company of one and all, no matter our ages. Whether we are 90 or seven, we look forward to our family reunions, because we can all hang up our cloaks of reserve and warm our souls with some unabashedly silly fun.
That sense of fun is a hallmark of the Pedersen clan. And Ron was one of its biggest proponents. As part of the dynamic duo of Ronny and Lonny, he was sure to entertain us over the course of our weekends together. Whether it meant a lawnmower drag race, inflatable fat costumes, bearded cross-dressing or spinning ourselves dizzy using leaf blowers and bar stools, he and Lonny creatively kept us guessing what the next event would bring. He was a Pied Piper of the silly, the punny and the practical joke. Even on the receiving end of a prank, he laughed along with the rest of us while donning an embarrassing gift presented by another cousin—whether it was a hairy, anatomically exaggerated apron or a crazy hat.
But Ron’s life wasn’t all fun and games—it was work. He graduated high school in 1976 and joined the Marines. The skinny kid who left home returned to Wisconsin as a man who embarked on a career and family life that may not have always been rosy. He struggled through times where he questioned his direction and made changes. I, for one, well understand how my choices affected those around me, both good and bad. Sometimes things are left unsaid, notes aren’t written or mailed too late, or arms that don’t reach out are rarely enfolded in the warmth of a long-overdue hug.
As a Marine, I’m sure that Ron understood the line from “Saving Private Ryan” when Captain Miller told Ryan to “Earn this!” I believe that he did just that, in spite of some tough times. Throughout his life, Ron used his talents and abilities to help others. As a contractor, he renovated and refurbished many rooms and homes, adding ramps and access where necessary. He has always been available to lend a hand when needed, whether it was a paid job or not.
One of our Stevens family Christmases several years ago in Arkdale was halted by a rather pressing septic issue. With a house full of three generations, we realized we couldn’t enjoy our holiday without help. Mom made a couple calls, and within an hour Ron was there—on Christmas Day. The brothers and in-laws followed Ron’s lead in digging to gain access, but he did the dirty work to clear up the situation. The entire time, he kept up their spirits and enjoyed ribbing the guys.
After we moved Mom & Dad back to Kenosha due to health issues, their house was pending a sale when a tornado hit, causing roof and water damage as well as tearing out the surrounding mature trees—leaving a debris strewn mess in the yard just two weeks before closing. Ron and a crew were there that day, removing tree limbs, tarping the roof and removing insulation. Their quick response and their thorough clean-up of the yard were instrumental in convincing the buyer to go through with the sale. And we weren’t the only ones they helped in those weeks after the storm.
I know other family members have benefited from Ron’s expertise and talents as well. Many have said that he was always there when they needed him. His woodworking talent, particularly with creating bird feeders, children’s stools and other small delights, has become legendary. Our reunion auctions always featured one of his creations to help the cause, and I know he donated his handiwork for other worthy causes as well.
Ron had a charisma that would draw people to him. His grandchildren weren’t the only ones who adored him. Just seeing his smile or hearing his laugh could make you grin. He’d throw a corny joke your way, and you’d want to duck but laugh anyway. He, along with Loren, Lonny and a few other cousins, would create fun wherever they were. If they gave someone a nickname, it stuck, and most wore them as badges of honor. They loved to tease their cousins, aunts and uncles with abandon, knowing that we’d love them anyway. Those of us who remember Grandpa Pedersen can tell you that they were only carrying on his tradition. He loved to laugh.
So, I now have this vision of Ron approaching the gates of the afterlife. Loren is there, his mom and dad, aunts, uncles, grandparents too. He approaches Loren, and hands him a jar of pickles, saying, “Susie said you missed these.” Then he looks at his favorite cohort, whom he has dearly missed the past couple years, and implores, “Tell me I’ve lived a good life. Tell me I’m a good man, like Private Ryan.” And Loren smiles, and nods and replies,
“Of course, you are! We just called ‘cause someone backed up the toilet!…
Just kidding. You’ve passed the test, and yes, you earned this.”
