Mallette Posted January 16, 2015 Share Posted January 16, 2015 (edited) Not a lot of folks here probably know Ron Huebner, forum name LoneLobo. He doesn't post often, but he'll be at Hope in April as he was last year and lurks a bit. He's my brother without a traceable DNA connection, best friend of 35 years or so and we work together today in Houston, something I am forever grateful for in a variety of ways. Amongst other things, we share a love of all kinds of music. He has Heresy's as his speakers at the company apartment he has in Houston (still has a house in Flower Mound, DFW area). His father passed away last week and the services are at 2PM, Our Savior Lutheran Church, in Bryan, TX. Felt I should post for those who know him. His dad, Raymond Huebner, was a fine man and was 95 when he passed. Dave Edited January 16, 2015 by Mallette Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
oldtimer Posted January 16, 2015 Share Posted January 16, 2015 Sorry to hear that. Send my condolences. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mallette Posted January 16, 2015 Author Share Posted January 16, 2015 I shall. Dave Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
CECAA850 Posted January 16, 2015 Share Posted January 16, 2015 Ron, if you read this, I'm so sorry for your loss. My father passed a couple years ago but it seems like yesterday. My condolences. Carl Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
prerich Posted January 16, 2015 Share Posted January 16, 2015 Send my condolences as well. His father lived a very long life indeed - but that still doesn't mend the personal hurt. I lost my father back in 1999. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Daddy Dee Posted January 16, 2015 Share Posted January 16, 2015 prayers lonelobo. love to all! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Moderators dtel Posted January 16, 2015 Moderators Share Posted January 16, 2015 Sorry to hear this Ron, at 95 he has seen a lot of change in his life, we could all wish to make it that far. He must have been a fine man, he has raised a good son. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mallette Posted January 16, 2015 Author Share Posted January 16, 2015 (edited) Wanna know HOW good? I am copying the below from a Facebook page of Ron and my friends. He may get mad at me, but he'll get over it. This magnificent piece of writing moved my soul and would have if I didn't know him from Adam: Ron Huebner January 7 at 3:25pm My sister found this letter today at the assisted living facility where my mom and dad have lived for several years. It was in a basket by their lounge chairs. I didn't remember writing it at first, then it came to me that I must have written it years ago when I sensed the fragility of his life. It goes like this: An Imperfect Present Months ago I started to shop for the perfect Christmas present for you Pops. But it eluded me no matter how hard I thought or how long I walked through endless stores that cater to just such a task. You have everything you need really, and I suppose you have very few wants. You have friends that most only dream about, a dedicated and loving wife, and you do pretty much what you want. So what is it that I could possibly offer you? What have I never given you that you might need? Then I realized that I have always felt inadequate simply telling you how I feel about you. Men in general are horrid at this and I suppose we fail no more acutely than with family. So for better or worse, I will try to set to paper what I find so awkward to do in life. Where to start? Some of my first memories of you come from Echols street. I remember you rooting around in the chicken house where you seemed so at ease and at peace. You impressed me more than any lion tamer could. A chicken is a mighty and elusive foe for a little boy. On most afternoons, I would listen for the 5 o’clock A&M whistle to blow and it was the highlight of my day when you drove into the driveway an few minutes later in that big old sedan. You were always glad to see me, but not half as much as I was to see you. When the sun went down, I can remember all of us going out to the back yard to lie on the pallets that you had spread on the grass. We would lie there for hours just gazing into the sky, watching for falling stars to wish on and taking in the gentle night breezes. You always had time to ride me on your back and play as if the world had no cares. Only later did I realize that the pressures of the world could not have magically passed over you with a family to take care of. What you gave me was the freedom of childhood with all the hard realities of the world kept at bay and that is a true gift…and no small task. It’s strange what you remember, but the smell of you after working hard all day will always be strong in my mind. Rolling around on the bed, we wrestled, tickled and played. Now I realize you must have been dead tired. It fills me with joy even now when those images cross my mind. That house on Echols was tiny in size, but was huge with all the love you lavished on us. I still drive down Echols occasionally; I suppose to recapture some of the elusive peace of a simpler time. I can still see the Christmas tree in the front room with its bubble lights and reused tinsel. You always made Christmas so special that to me it was the best time of the year. Just one of those Christmas Days was better than all the birthdays and 4th of Julys in my life. We always went to Grandma’s on Christmas afternoon and her back room with the tree always fascinated me. I always tried to imagine the Christmas’s you had when you were a little boy. The smell of apples and oranges infused the air and the candles on her tree were a source of pure magic. You always seemed at peace there and somehow connected. It was so hard to see that land sold. It made all the sense in the world to let it go, but that didn’t make it any easier. It was awash with memories of good times with all our family…gathered just to be together. My first memory of you, Uncle Alvin, and Uncle Alfred sitting in a circle telling stories comes from Grandma’s front porch and living room. Those stories were truly delicious to a boy with a big imagination! You and Uncle Alvin’s tales of childhood made me envious in so many ways. I know those times were difficult but you remembered them so fondly and with such humor…at least that’s how it seemed. What impressed me was you pleasure in the telling and that was a blessing for the rest of us. I still smile when I remember how you all sounded, entertaining each other and I guess that I will always be entertained by that memory. I think that’s when I started to appreciate your sense of humor. Some people use humor to dominate, to denigrate, to impress, or to stand out. But yours seems to be a simple and humble form of play. And I think that playfulness is part of what makes you so easy to love and a joy to share time with. Momma has been so lucky to have spent the most time with that side of you and nobody would blame the rest of us for being jealous. But it wasn’t all play. I’ve come to realize that many men rarely vocalize their love of family; rather they show it in their dedication to provide security and joy for those under their watch. But no one was ever more dedicated than you. You were always the first to rise to take care of the garden and other chores before going to work. After work and supper you were always in the garage upholstering, tacks in your mouth. What a great game to get shocked when I touched you at the sewing machine. And no better adventure than picking up and delivering furniture in the back of that old black truck. I know I was often impatient when it came to helping out as a second pair of hands, but I always appreciated how hard you worked just to provide all the little extras most children take for granted. Even as a child I never took any of your extraordinary efforts for granted. I know how hard you worked for us and I will always feel some guilt because I will never be able to do what you did with seemingly effortless grace. All those hours in the garage earned you a little extra money, but also my undying admiration and respect. It never occurred to me that you did all this for money…I knew you did it for us. As a teenager I couldn’t understand how you could be so content while working so hard and struggling to make ends meet. Whatever I know about being content, I learned from you and Mom. You make being happy seem so easy. One thing that seemed to make you happiest was Sunday breakfast. No one will ever be able to make Sunday mornings as special as you did. I never understood why you went so wild with breakfast on Sunday, but I wasn’t going to complain. What a feast! That must be where my love of breakfast comes from. I just don’t always eat it in the morning…but then I remember you would cook “upside down” breakfast for supper sometimes too. But the most special times and my fondest memories were really just quiet times spent together. So many of those memories are more like faint impressions…you picking me up when I was tired, my arms around your neck, being tucked into bed. These are just whispers of memories that I hear when I least expect them. Fleeting for sure, but so warm I know they are real. I remember us sitting for hours by the tank at Grandmas just so I could plink away at bullfrogs. And more hours spent while you barbecued for family gatherings. Those times that seemed like nothing special at the time mean the world to me as I look back. They may, in fact, be the most special times of all. For a long time, as I grew out of childhood, I thought we were so very different. I could come up with a hundred ways you and I were not alike. But time has made me much wiser, and now I know we are more alike than we are different. I have learned so much about living deliberately from you that you cannot imagine. I know that the best of me comes directly from you and the parts I am not proud of are my own inventions. You have taught me through example that love and grace are worth pursuing for life. As I read over this in review, it’s so painfully obvious how inadequate it is in expressing all my feelings for you. I could write a book just from all my good memories of you. You consistently reassure me and constantly surprise me as I learn more about you. I guess what it all boils down to is that if I could choose my father out of all the fathers of all time I would choose you and never think twice about it. Your generosity inspires me, your easy way puts me at ease, your sense of humor makes me smile, your honesty make me stand straighter, and your love make me a better person. I love you very much! Edited January 18, 2015 by Mallette 4 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Moderators dtel Posted January 16, 2015 Moderators Share Posted January 16, 2015 I couldn't think of a better present any father could get, it's perfect. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
muel Posted January 16, 2015 Share Posted January 16, 2015 GULP! What a wonderful letter! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
eth2 Posted January 16, 2015 Share Posted January 16, 2015 It is indicative of a good man and a good life spent. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Moderators dtel Posted January 17, 2015 Moderators Share Posted January 17, 2015 After reading I had to take a break for a while. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Seadog Posted January 18, 2015 Share Posted January 18, 2015 Condolences to LoneLobo - and Dave, thank you for sharing that letter. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Dude Posted January 18, 2015 Share Posted January 18, 2015 Condolences to lonelobo. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mallette Posted January 18, 2015 Author Share Posted January 18, 2015 It was a great service. Military honors and a 21 gun salute. Much pomp and to do for a man who would have been totally embarrassed! The service itself was good Lutheran stuff and ended, of course, with Ein Feste Burg. Church was packed. Ron's mom, who has Alzheimers and is generally total lost as to the day or who anyone is, was almost completely with us and fully aware of the situation. Truly amazing the power of the brain in such situations. She may be asking where he is tomorrow, but she certainly fully understood yesterday. Dave Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
toolz Posted January 18, 2015 Share Posted January 18, 2015 Dave, You made me remember many times with my father. Thank you for sharing. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mallette Posted January 18, 2015 Author Share Posted January 18, 2015 It was my pleasure, Toolz. Ron has been my best friend, more of a brother, for 40 years and I've seen some good writing from him...but this piece is inspired. He has a BIG heart to go with that huge frame. Dave Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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