Yesterday, I had a sad task of singing for the funeral of my Uncle Ron, Ron Barbian. Actually, “Uncle Ron” wasn’t my uncle at all; he was my Cousin Ron. But he was 28 years older than me, so for my siblings and me he was always Uncle Ron. The reason for the odd Uncle/Cousin thing is that his family tree had a rather peculiar tilt to it. Ron’s mother was my Aunt Marvel, who was born in 1912, and it wasn’t until 18 years later that my mom, Beverly, came along. (By the way, she was a complete surprise to her parents; family lore has it that her mother- my Grandma Hintz- never knew she was pregnant until she went into labor. There were several reasons for her surprise: she was in her late 40’s – she was a large woman- and my mom was a tiny baby… most likely a bit premature. So …. SURPRISE!) And two years later, Marvel gave birth to her only child- her son Ron. So at the tender age of 2, my mother was already an aunt – to Ron.
My mom was a fierce protector of her nephew – even though she was only two years older than him. And even as he grew to be a strong, handsome, strapping athlete with all of the confidence in the world, my mom still did all she could to look out for him. She adored him- and he adored her in return. And when both of her parents died within a few months of each other when she was in her early 20’s, it was Ron’s turn to be a source of strength and encouragement for her. In my dad’s eulogy at yesterday’s funeral, he said that the two of them “were fierce advocates for each other.” For me, that was reason enough to love my “Uncle Ron” – because he was so good to my mom, and because she thought the world of him. And my mom was amazing when it came to understanding people and sensing who they really were. So if my mom thought you were a good person, then you were! She just had this way of seeing into people’s souls. And when she looked at her nephew Ron, she saw a fun-loving, kind-hearted, wonderful soul.
I had two uncles growing up. One of them was my Uncle Paul, who was my dad’s brother. There were plenty of differences between the two brothers, but they also shared all kinds of similarities. They were both clergymen (my dad a Lutheran pastor, my uncle an Episcopalian priest) – both learned men and scholars who loved to read, cared deeply about social justice issues, and strove to be loving and devoted fathers. One could sense that they were brothers – and for all that gave the two families very distinct flavors, we felt like we were cut from the same fabric.
My “Uncle” Ron, on the other hand, felt in many ways like he was from an entirely different universe from the one that I was part of. He lived in the big city of Milwaukee …. in a wonderful house that was so much more modern and elegant than ours, complete with color TV! He was married to one of the most dazzlingly beautiful women I’d ever seen- Mary Ellen, who looked for all the world like she should be in the movies or on magazine covers. (And still does.) And we kids had heard plenty of stories about how Uncle Ron had played professional baseball- which was hard for us to grasp. So when we visited them, it always felt to me like we were country bumpkins visiting our sophisticated city relations. But they were SO incredibly nice and welcoming- and their two sons, Ron and Greg, were really fun and easy to be with. So for all of the ways in which our two families were drastically different from each other, we still loved each other and thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company. And over the years, I came to deeply appreciate what a good man Ron was – and especially how devoted he was to his family- not only his two sons, but to his grandsons as well, through good times and bad. And when Ron began to face one serious physical crisis after another in recent years, he did so with very impressive courage and good cheer, even though it had to be maddening for such a brilliant athlete to find his body betraying him at every turn. You really sense the true strength of someone not in life’s moments of triumph but rather in those moments when one is tempted to give in to despair. Ron showed tremendous courage in the difficult last chapter of his life.
His funeral yesterday was a real celebration of a life well-lived …. and I especially enjoyed the story shared by one of his baseball teammates from his high school days. Ron had agreed to be this friend’s best man for his wedding- but then later was offered a contract to play minor league baseball. The trouble is that he was supposed to report to the team as soon as possible, but he had given this promise to stand at his friend’s wedding. He communicated this to the powers-that-be, who replied that they appreciated Ron’s sense of loyalty but that if he wasn’t able to report as requested, then he would be busted down to a Class B team and would have to work his way up from there. Even after hearing that, Ron decided that he had to fulfill the promise he had made to his good friend and teammate and that’s exactly what he did. I can’t tell you how moving it was to hear this story- and especially to hear it directly from the friend in question, all these years later. Talk about a man of integrity! I don’t think very many people in the same circumstance would do what my Uncle Ron did.
By the way, one big reason why Ron managed to achieve such great excellence in every sport in which he participated was that he was pushed hard by his father, Elroy- but Ron never spoke with regret or resentment about that, at least to any of us. I think that was at least in part because Ron liked to believe the best about people, and to see things in the best possible light. After the funeral, I spoke to a former basketball player who had been coached by him, and he talked about the way in which my Uncle Ron would believe in you more than you believed in yourself – and how his optimism and energy would begin to take root and grow into a spirit of confidence where once there had been only doubt.
(This is a photo of Ron signing his first baseball contract- but because he was too young to sign the contract himself, his father signed it instead.)
My favorite Uncle Ron story is actually of a moment that I myself don’t remember- but the story was told to me so many times over the years that I almost remember it happening. It was January 1965, and my mom had just given birth to my sister Randi in nearby Sioux Falls. Uncle Ron had come all the way from Milwaukee to babysit Steve and me. (How nice is that?) This was back in the days when a woman was in the hospital for days after giving birth. Well one evening, the phone rang and it was dad saying that he and mom would be coming home the next day. Uncle Ron hung up the phone, turned to Steve and me, and told us excitedly that mom and dad were coming home very soon. “How about if we clean this place up a little bit for them?!?” “I’m going to bed,” I replied sourly, and did just that. My role in that story, as someone resistant to housework, should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me. But I love that picture of my Uncle Ron trying to cheer me on. I can practically see that radiant, wonderful smile of his, that could light up any room. I only wish I had been a bit more enthusiastic in return. But that was my Uncle Ron- ever the good-hearted, generous optimist. After he left baseball, he became a coach and a driver’s ed teacher- and he had many many experiences with flustered student drivers who ended up on sidewalks and front lawns. I can just imagine what he was like in those moments when things went catastrophically wrong. But he survived those incidents- as did the drivers- and they just provided him with more great stories and more reasons to smile and laugh.
Rest In Peace, Uncle Ron ….. and thank you for all the ways you managed to make your corner of the world a little brighter and a little more fun.
Wonderful memoir Greg!