Roger Blair was a wonderful friend for 44 years.
We met through mutual acquaintances and got along extremely well though we couldn’t have been more different in personality and in interests.
Back in 1971 Roger was a recent law graduate and an active Republican. And I was graduate student in History and…not a Republican.
Our ‘70s sideburns matched up reasonably well. But there were differences after that. Roger’s hair passed muster with Governor Jim Rhodes while my left-leaning growth erupted many inches in all directions.
But Roger was cool with the unruly fringe, and never allowed political differences to be more than a minute’s distraction.
Roger met people easily and had lots of connections, but when he made friends it was for life.
I’m an introvert and in my normal way of things, we would have drifted apart as we moved on in life. But Roger wouldn’t allow that. To him, a friend was a responsibility as well as a resource. He never let our connection break, and never stopped helping me whenever he could.
I’ve especially vivid memories of the years when we were both single.
To me, a normal weeknight evening was staying in and reading. To Roger, evenings were for being out in the world, doing things and meeting people.
Generally, I acceded to Roger’s outgoing style, something I know he insisted on because he thought it was good for me (not much doubt about that).
Roger liked movies and we watched a whole lot of those. But the trips to the cinema became a problem when I developed an aversion to Hollywood’s growing penchant for larding every kind of story with gratuitous violence.
Once he’d taken note of my squeamishness, Roger always scheduled our viewing of the more problematic productions at a popular campus place that served beer. When I’d start to grow pale, Roger, ever alert, would thoughtfully push another draft my way.
Roger was flexible and adaptable to others’ interests, but didn’t share my enthusiasm for visiting campus rock n’ roll bars.
I recall going together to a south campus dive called “Mr. Brown’s Descent.” Once in the entryway, Roger glanced warily at the door to the main room, ragged edges of extra-hard rock flowing like spiky lava out from around the frame, and handed over the two-dollar cover charge with notable reluctance.
Opening the door released a wall of sound that pushed us backward. Inside, seated uncomfortably on the edge of his seat, Roger turned to me and yelled over the din, “I’d pay two dollars to get out of here.”
While week nights were movies, weekends were very often about moving households, either our own or those of various similarly nomadic friends. In one of our numerous episodes of wrangling a refrigerator through a narrow hall, Roger observed that he now knew why professional movers were “big guys with flat fingers.”
Roger was intrigued by the popularity of running and encouraged me to join him. I tried but couldn’t keep up.
Roger did keep going and eventually finished a marathon. A magnificent achievement that attests, far above all things physical, to exceptional mental dedication and commitment.
Early on, I recall responding at dinner to Roger’s vague curiosity about wine, offering a few ill-informed thoughts about what mattered. Roger wanted to know more. In just a short time, he was a national-level expert. As usual, Roger’s achievement was a bonus to his friends since he was always generous with oenological advice, not to mention the wine itself.
Roger tried to get me to participate in some of his interests. I recall joining several barbeque classes that he took on his way to creating another area of deep expertise as a chef. But I declined to continue, observing that a chronically limited attention span and an open flame didn’t make a good combination. Roger nodded sagely.
Roger lived east and I west, but we still saw each other often. I vividly recall his excitement after first meeting Sherran, and his great contentment as they settled into a busy life, working at the family business and happily spending time with Kay and Dee. His joy at Kory’s arrival is impossible to forget. Roger was immensely proud of Sherran’s awesome knowledge of herbs and all other growing green things.
Over the years, we stayed connected in part through cars. I’m very much a car guy, an affliction Roger shared to a much smaller extent, but he never forgot my interest and always invited me to go car shopping with him.
Our visits to dealerships became more interesting as Roger got older and availed himself of more substantial vehicles. When one goes to a dealership and says, “I’ve got two BMWs (or Lexuses) coming off lease in the next month,” the salespeople quickly snap out of their bored slouches.
So, once every few years, Roger and I would spend a few satisfying Saturdays driving all kinds of high end machines.
Roger had no interest in sports cars, but since he was always thinking about his friends, he would solemnly claim a passion for the track in order to score me a drive in various Porsches and Jaguars.
While piloting the exotic vehicles Roger and I would catch up on an array of topics, from the past to the present. This sometimes caused a certain level of distraction from the immediate task of driving, and once we actually got lost and had to use the navigation system to find out where we were.
In another famous incident we absent-mindedly parked our test-drive S-Class Mercedes at a Lexus dealer, then walked in and asked if they had an LS460 we could drive. The salesman, who had seen us arrive and observed the dealer plates on the Mercedes, started to object, then shrugged his shoulders and went in search of keys.
Roger was an ebullient, dynamic man, someone who didn’t just love life but wanted to help others appreciate it just as much.
Roger deserved to enjoy retirement on the beach in Florida, relaxed and happy with a loving wife and a great family.
Of course, with Roger, there would have been much more than golf and walks by the water. Ever kinetic, he’d have ventured out; the Tampa area will never know the many deep relationships he’d have built if given the opportunity.
The celestial mechanics that take a wonderful person before his time are beyond my understanding, and I’ve no ability to provide perspective. I can only offer my deepest condolences to Sherran, Kory, Joan, Dee, and Kay and to all the many wonderful people in Roger’s orbit who feel the same profound sadness I do.
