Condolence: To be perfectly honest, I have so many memories of Roy I don’t even know where to start. Roy and I had been out of touch for number of years (over twenty?). But upon hearing about his passing, all the memories I’d had with my dear friend came rushing back into my head with vivid color like they just happened this afternoon. Its funny how the people we share a common bond with, however brief in the grand scope of things, can leave a lasting impact that stay with you forever.

So many stories. Where do I begin?

Roy and I went to high school together. We shared our Junior and Senior years when I moved to Cincinnati in 1991. A stranger looking at the two of us would never think that we would’ve gotten along as well as we did. Me with my alterna-goth-skater vibe — and Roy, with his long hair, tyedyed shirts and hand-rolled cigarettes. We were two mismatched misfits. Upon first getting to know Roy in the classes we shared together I quickly discovered that he broke any stereotype you tried to pin on him. He was a joker, but he’d also come out of left field with wisdom beyond his years.

One time during our Junior year, our art instructor decided to put some of my artwork on display in the teacher’s lounge. But after a few days I was told to go pick up my drawings at the office. It seemed that one of the teachers didn’t approve of a partial nude drawing I’d done and had them taken down. After coming back from the office with my artwork in my hands, I had all kinds of questions: “Am I trouble? Did they not like it? Did I offend somebody?” I felt horrible. When I told Roy about it he lit up. He got a huge smile on his face and threw his hands up, “This is GREAT!!” he said to me. I was confused, why was this great? “Don’t you know what this MEANS?” Roy said emphatically, “This is a landmark in your artistic career! Its the first time you’ve been CENSORED!” From that moment forward I wore it as a badge of honor. I held my chin a little higher, and even started to feel good about it — and all because of Roy.

When our senior year came, we had a History class together. The teacher told us at the beginning of the year what our final exam would be: we would have to list all the Presidents in order, the party they belonged to, the years of their terms and something significant that occurred while they were in office. When rumblings of the inevitable exam bubbled up towards the end of the schoolyear, Roy panicked. He was certain he was going to flunk it. “There’s no way I can do this,” he said, “Its too much!”. So I shared with him an associative memory technique I’d made up to help me remember things. Roy thought it was great, so we decided to study together. When the exam finally came, we’d honed our memory method so well that I got a 98 on the test — and Roy aced it. A perfect 100. He’d scored higher than me using my own method!

But it wasn’t just in school. It seemed that wherever I’d go with Roy I met new people. Whether he knew them from somewhere else, or if he just started talking to them out of the blue. I was constantly wowed by Roy’s uncanny ability to talk to people. Roy was the kind of guy that you could talk to once and you knew you’d be friends. One time after I’d had a messy break up and was down in the dumps, Roy jumped into action to lift my spirits. He knew I liked the Rocky Horror Picture Show and they had midnight showings in the city. So he said we were going to go to a showing. When the weekend came, we hopped in his trusty Chevy Cavalier and caught a pre-movie dinner in Blue Ash. So there we were a half hour away from home, we walked into Perkins and immediately Roy knew someone. ...and not only did he know someone, he introduced me to my future girlfriend.

Honestly, I have so many other great Roy-stories but this entry would get so much longer than it already is. I can’t say that Roy was one of kind, because that’d suggest there are other people like him. Roy was something else entirely: a true original. As I’m sitting here typing this I’m still in shock that he’s gone. I’m shaking my head for allowing over two decades to pass without reaching out even once to see what he was up to all this time. Life passes way too fast and remembering the times I had with Roy — the laughs, the lessons, the long philosophical conversations, and even the occasional disagreements — is a reminder of what a wildly unique person he was. He could make you laugh, make you think, make you frustrated, but he was always the genuine article.

Roy, rest in peace, my brother. The world is a better place having had you in it. I will forever treasure our friendship.

My deepest condolences go to his family during this time.

Condolence: Eternal rest grant to Roy, Oh Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, and the soul of all the faithfully departed, rest in holy peace through the Mercy of God. Amen.
Our family will continue to keep your family and friends in our Rosaries.

Roy and I went to St. Louis Elementary School and rode the bus together. He had a wonderful sense of humor. I hope that it is all right with you to share a memory of him from eighth grade.

It was an hour-long bus ride home every day. That afternoon we had just had just been to a school festival. We were over-sugared kids hopped up on Mountain Dew and Dr. Pepper, and the bus sounded like Brown Stadium when the Bengals are winning.

"Quiet down a bit, kids," cautioned the driver. We would lower our voices but a moment later we were just as loud as before.

"Come on, kids, cut it out." But the din kept building.

This went on for five minutes as we wended our way through Owensville and then toward Batavia to change buses at the CNE parking lot. Without warning, our driver slammed on the brakes in the middle of the road, causing us to rock back and forth from the sudden stop.

The driver turned to stare us down, "I said be quiet!"

Then our bus driver then unleashed a fury at us, even scaring the first graders into tears. He railed on that we were old enough to know how to behave better on a bus (we did), and that for safety reasons we were not acting responsibly as educated students should act (again, correct).

Finally, he warned us, "Not one sound for the rest of the ride."

Everyone gazed down at the floor, or out the window, shamed into silence. We were hot, sticky kids and the bus smelled like P.E. class already. The chiding made it worse.

I looked over at Roy across the aisle and he had that grin on his face. In the quiet he sang at full volume, "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands."

And then fifty little hands went, "Clap, clap."

It was one of the funniest moments I have ever experienced in my life. We could not control ourselves from giggling. Even the bus driver had to look away from the overhead mirror because he was biting his lip.

"Tension breaker. Had to be done." No one made that quote come true better than Roy did.

Roy was the best at being lighthearted and breaking the monotony of an unending country ride. He kept all of us laughing in school. I am grateful to have known him.

Condolence: Sending you my heartfelt condolences.

Condolence: My sincere condolences for your loss. Corinne and I will keep you and the boys in our thoughts.

Condolence: Love and Peace to you, Cathy, with my sincere condolences.