Thanksgiving memories of a talented and funny friend

Friends are the folks in our lives who lift our spirits and help keep us sane. And Thanksgiving is one of the best times to be with them.

I’ve always looked forward to the holiday because, on most occasions for the past two decades, my wife Corryne and I spent it in the company of Ron Richard and Pat Greiner of Casper, who hosted dinner for several of their friends. They “adopted” us even though we were very close in age.

This year’s dinner will be different, because it’s the first time Ron won’t be there. We all felt lucky to have him for another eight years after he received a lung transplant, but his new lung started to fail and he died on June 5.

I’m sure we’ll make many toasts to Ron, a truly gifted and gentle soul, and share some memories. These are mine, paired with some favorite moments Pat told me about in a recent conversation.

I’ll always remember Ron as an entertainer. We first met the couple at Stage III, Casper’s community theater, where they were always the highlights of any show they were in. Corryne and I felt grateful to be in several casts with them, because they were so funny, talented and dedicated to their craft.

Pat and Ron were friends for 20 years before the relationship turned romantic. Pat recalls it happened when they were rehearsing for “The Owl and the Pussycat.” They kissed so long in one scene that their director literally had to break it up.

“He said, ‘Uh, that’s probably long [pause] — that’s long enough!” Pat recalled, laughing.

Pat said the acting bug bit Ron when he was taking photos at a Casper College theater rehearsal, and was fascinated watching the director coach an actor through a scene who wasn’t getting it. “He thought, ‘I understand that, I could do that,’” Pat said. “He didn’t spend a lot of time doing small roles. Once he jumped in, he was good from the start.”

In 2006, Stage III performed “The Laramie Project,” the story of how the university town coped after the 1998 murder of student Matthew Shepard, who was gay. His death helped galvanize the movement for LGBTQ+ equal rights, and the play has been performed worldwide.

Matthew Shepard had appeared in Stage III plays, and I know that made playing his father, Dennis Shepard, an emotional time for Ron. I didn’t know the young man, but I covered his story and had a small role in the play where I relived a scene reporting about his funeral.

There is a powerful moment in the play where Dennis Shepard addresses one of the killers and tells him about his son. Those of us backstage could look through peepholes, and during all eight shows, my eyes were riveted on Ron. I couldn’t get through the scene without crying. I think it was because I couldn’t cry in court when that speech was made, but watching Ron was a cathartic moment for me. And he was brilliant in the role.

Ron spent his career with Casper’s traffic department, where he was a supervisor until he decided he didn’t like writing evaluations of his friends, so he stepped down to take a different role.

He told Pat after his retirement that he was going to write a fantasy novel. Since he had the story already worked out, he started immediately. After he wrote “Group Six and the River: Of Water and Brimstone,” two more books continued the tale. Ron was nearing the conclusion of the fourth book when he died, but left notes for his wife to finish it.

“I’m glad he did, because he wrapped up the whole series since he knew he couldn’t do any more,” Pat said. “The ending is always the hardest part to come up with.”

Ron had a remarkably clever and wicked sense of humor, which is a great combination. “Like Shakespeare, my writing contains occasional scenes of gory violence, but in a fun, light-hearted kind of way,” Ron wrote in his author’s bio.

Here’s a sample from his first book:

“Tresado plodded down the filthy alley, wondering if the pouring rain would lessen or add to its filthiness. His question was soon answered as the delicately blended mixture of soil, grease, urine, and fish scales that was the road beneath his Eryndi feet embraced the rain water like a long-lost family member. The happy reunion produced a substance as slippery as owl poop on a brass sword pommel.”

Ron and Pat shared reading duties on Audible, which, like the book format, is available on Amazon. Pat had a long career working at KTWO Radio, where she honed her skills, and both of their voices are superb. As much as I like the printed word, it’s my favorite way to enjoy Ron’s work.

Ron and Pat were fans of “Star Trek,” and an entire room in their house is filled with memorabilia, much of it from “Star Trek” conventions they enjoyed.

“On the day of my surgery, they were waiting for the transport guy, the one who pushes the wheelchairs,” Ron told us. “There was a delay and the nurse said, ‘I don’t know what happened to the transporter.’”

Naturally, he quipped, “Get Scotty to fix it.”

Ron was diagnosed with idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis in 2015 and had a lung transplant at the University of Colorado a year later. He had some infections that caused a few hospital stays, but he remained active until the past year, when he could no longer do some of his favorite things, including making detailed models of various ships and planes. 

We didn’t get to enjoy Pat and Ron’s Thanksgiving feast last year because I suffered a heart attack the day before. Corryne and I drove to Casper a few weeks later and brought one of his favorite meals — bought at a fast-food place, because we burn everything — but it made us long for this year’s celebration. But Ron, who was on oxygen since before the transplant, labored mightily to breathe.

We last saw him over Zoom a short time before his death, when he could no longer have in-person visits due to his deteriorating condition. He was in great spirits and told many funny stories, but near the end, he was so tired he fell asleep.

Pat cooked the turkey every year, and it was always at least 20 pounds and delicious. Ron’s specialty was the gravy.

“It wasn’t just the great food that made Thanksgiving so special; it was being with our friends,” Corryne said. “Ron was always so positive and upbeat, even with all he had to go through.”

Corryne bonded with Ron in her first play over their mutual love of “Mystery Science Theater 3000.” Watching episodes was often an after-dinner treat, along with pumpkin pie.

I’m looking forward to dining again with friends. I’ll always have fond memories of Ron, not just on Thanksgiving. Before we moved to Cheyenne five years ago, Ron built me bookshelves as a going-away present because I admired his so much.

Whenever I go into my office, I remember my friend. I’m looking at his gift right now. Since he left us, it brings a tear to my eye, but a smile always follows.