I remember when this accident happened. Ronnie was the first real friend I'd ever lost, and it hit me pretty hard, even though he and I hadn't spoken in several years.
My favorite memory of Ronnie involves a field trip, back in late 1968 as I recall. Ronnie and I were both NDCC cadets, and if you remember, the cadets were fairly close, because -- putting it delicately -- the Viet Nam war wasn't making the military very popular.
Anyhow, you'll remember that the drinking age was still 21 at the time (it dropped the year I turned 21) and a bunch of us seniors (all NDCC) were driving up toward the Double Lakes recreation area near Coldspring for a weekend of tactical exercises. Yeah, playing soldier with M-1's and blanks. Like paintball, but louder and without the mess.
We had stopped at every little stop-and-rob along the way, and there were lots of them. At each one, Ronnie would get a case of beer, saunter up to the counter, and drop the case by the cash register. Every time, they asked for ID. Since none of were anywhere near 21, we just turned and walked out.
One place, finally, didn't ask any awkward questions. They took our money, but as we were walking out carrying our prize, the cashier said, "Wait a minute, now. I have to put that into a paper bag. That's a state law, you know."
I don't really have any inspiring memories of Ronnie, but I've never forgotten this little incident. It was so very much like him.
John Adams
I remember when this accident happened. Ronnie was the first real friend I'd ever lost, and it hit me pretty hard, even though he and I hadn't spoken in several years.My favorite memory of Ronnie involves a field trip, back in late 1968 as I recall. Ronnie and I were both NDCC cadets, and if you remember, the cadets were fairly close, because -- putting it delicately -- the Viet Nam war wasn't making the military very popular.
Anyhow, you'll remember that the drinking age was still 21 at the time (it dropped the year I turned 21) and a bunch of us seniors (all NDCC) were driving up toward the Double Lakes recreation area near Coldspring for a weekend of tactical exercises. Yeah, playing soldier with M-1's and blanks. Like paintball, but louder and without the mess.
We had stopped at every little stop-and-rob along the way, and there were lots of them. At each one, Ronnie would get a case of beer, saunter up to the counter, and drop the case by the cash register. Every time, they asked for ID. Since none of were anywhere near 21, we just turned and walked out.
One place, finally, didn't ask any awkward questions. They took our money, but as we were walking out carrying our prize, the cashier said, "Wait a minute, now. I have to put that into a paper bag. That's a state law, you know."
I don't really have any inspiring memories of Ronnie, but I've never forgotten this little incident. It was so very much like him.