Remembering! On the first anniversary this week of the death of my good friend Ron Robinson, I think back on our times together. I never drive by the condo neighborhood where he lived without thinking about those times and how richly I was blessed by his friendship.
I loved the guy and really miss him.
I first met Ron in 1970 when he became the PR director for the Cranford Johnson Agency. He joined the Arkansas Chapter of the Public Relations Society of America (PRSA). l was a partner in Leavett Ginnaven
Dietz, another advertising and public relations agency, and was a member of the PRSA chapter. I was also an active volunteer of the Arkansas Arthritis Foundation, as Ron was. We often participated together in that organization’s annual golf tournament.
Sometime in the early 1980s I learned of Ron’s birthday on April 3. I took him to lunch that day, and on July 14, my birthday, he took me to lunch. A tradition was born. Every year since then until he became homebound, we went somewhere to lunch together, in April for him, and July for me.
He always picked the places. He liked to be in charge.
He also liked special places. One year he took me to an old drive-in at the Prothro Junction exit off Interstate
- He had other friends meet us there and they all wore bow ties. We sat outside at an old wooden picnic table and had burgers and shakes while reminiscing—on that occasion—about my life.
The bow ties were worn because that’s the only kind of tie I wore every business day and on Sundays, something Ron never forgot. As a matter of fact, Ron never forgot anything. His photographic memory brought events, people involved, and exact times and dates into every conversation.
When Ron became homebound, I told him I was bringing lunch there and asked him what he wanted and where I should go to get it. He told me to go to Sonic on Cantrell and get him a cheeseburger, large fries, and a super-size orange slush. I complied. When I got to Sonic, I just had them duplicate the order. I decided if that lunch was what he wanted, I wanted it, too.
He was homebound because of some medical complications and, frankly, he was very, very large. His lunch that day was obviously not a diet meal. I had never had a super-size orange slush before. I still had some of it on my desk when I left my office later that day.
Ron was a big man. He had grown to be very large physically, but he was all-around big … big ideas, big heart, and big plans for himself and others. When he was finally restricted by his weight and his ailments—heart, lungs, kidneys—I visited him every week at his home. I always stopped by Starbucks to get him a latte and
me a hot chocolate. We enjoyed the latte and cocoa over conversation about
current events and news,
the ad and PR business, the old days, and general reminiscing about people … their strengths and
weaknesses … and sports.
Whenever he shared a juicy story with me, he would always raise his arm, point his finger down, and say, “Only here.” He was right, of course, because only Ron Robinson could remember in detail all the pluses and minuses of people and events in Little Rock and Arkansas and share them confidentially with me.
Ron knew I was a lifelong die-hard Chicago Cubs fan. He became a fan, too. He made a gift to me of old Cubs memorabilia, and in 2016 he joined me in celebrating the Cubs’ pennant and my good luck in getting tickets for the World Series games played in Chicago. When I got back after the Cubs won the series for the first time in 108 years, Ron gave me the video of the series.
Ivisited Ron on his very last day at home, Aug. 9, 2018. He was so sick! When I sat at his bedside, he struggled to get his oxygen mask off and then spoke only briefly to me as I held his hand. As he had told me before, he said, “Love you.” I got the mask back on him and he went to sleep.
A short time later the ambulance came to take him to the Heart Hospital, where he died a few days later.
Appropriately, Ron is buried at historic Mount Holly Cemetery here in Little Rock. He was a historic figure in the 20th and 21st centuries of life in Little Rock and Arkansas, so it was really “only there” where his grave should be.
—–––––❖–––––—
Kearney Dietz spent 24 years as president ofArkansasIndependentCollegesandUniversities. He retired in 2012.