It was the fall of 1987, and I was attending my first convention of the Washington Council Of The Blind (WCB). I had attended the national ACB convention the previous summer, and it hadn’t gone well. In fact, I never even met any people from my own state. I was eating dinner in the hotel restaurant the first night of the state convention, and there was a guy at my table named Terry, who I became good friends with. As we were talking, we realized we had a lot in common. I can’t remember what prompted this, but at some point during our conversation someone from a nearby table put in an aside. Terry said, “Oh hi, Radio Rhonda!” And that is how I was first introduced to Rhonda Nelson.
Later that night, in the hospitality room over way too many adult beverages, we got better acquainted. We found we had much in common, particularly a love of sports and radio DX’ing. For those who may not be familiar with the term, radio DX’ing simply consists of tuning up and down the AM radio dial, almost always at night, trying to hear stations from as far away as possible. I recently lamented on Facebook about how recent innovations have made this pastime obsolete.
We kept the friendship alive through occasionally seeing each other at local meetings and also phone calls from time to time. Then, in the summer of 1989, I applied for a job with the Social Security Administration, and I let her know they were hiring. She already had a very well-established job, but she also decided to apply. As it worked out, we were both hired. SSA was not a positive experience for either one of us, to say the very least. We did a lot of venting to each other over the next several years about the working conditions, various policies, difficult people, pretty much everything. She had the good sense to get out 6 years before I did, on her own terms. While I was very happy for her for getting out of that pit, there was also part of me that was angry, angry that I was left behind. But I knew that was selfish anger, that she did what she had to do, and I never showed her that anger when it was with me.
Another connection we had was Scrabble. Her, me, and my ex wife played countless Scrabble games over the years. For a time she lived less than a mile away from us, so these games were almost a weekly ritual at times. We also spent many weekends at Rhonda’s parent’s place out on Hood Canal. It was, and still is, one of the most peaceful environments I’ve ever been in. I was there the weekend my dad passed away in 2000. He died on Sunday morning, and these were the days before cell service was universal, so my family couldn’t reach me until I got home that night. It had been a beautiful, sunny day, and knowing my dad as I do, I’m 100% convinced he would have approved of spending that day in the peaceful place as opposed to rushing home in abject grief.
Speaking of grief, that is the state in which I find myself now. When I moved to Indiana 11 years ago we pretty much fell out of touch, though I was able to enjoy a lunch with her at the ACB convention in 2016. I regret my part in not staying in touch. I have learned that she spent the last couple of years in some pain, and I would have liked so much to be able to help her through that however I could have. But unfortunately time only moves one way, forward, and there’s no way to go back. I do hope that she remembered me fondly, as I do her.
I’ll wrap this up with some thank yous to Rhonda, even though I know she can’t read it, or maybe wi fi has made it to Heaven, who knows? Thanks for everything, Rhonda. Thanks for the Scrabble games, even though I never beat you, not even once. Thanks for all the sports talks. I didn’t share your passion for Washington Husky football, but you were an alum, so I understood, just as you understood about my love for Gonzaga basketball for the same reason. Thanks for being my SSA sounding board so many times when we walked that road together. You’ll never know how much that helped me. Thanks for being there after my dad died. I’ll never forget your kindnesses. Most importantly, thank you for being my friend. You touched my soul in a way only a few others have in my life. As I have said elsewhere over the past few days, there is now a Rhonda-sized hole in my heart. Having said all of that, keep the Scrabble board handy. I’ll be there at some point, and maybe I’ll even have learned more things along the way to give you better competition. Until then, enjoy yourself. You deserve every bit of it.
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