Our dear friend and mensch, Ron Gustafson — affectionately known as Mr. Pagosa — has sadly left us to fend for ourselves.
Like my late father, Ron was more than a gentleman; he was a gentle man. Coincidentally, both men, both veterans, died on Flag Day.
Over the years I’ve written extensively about Ron and his beloved wife, Cindy. Together they were a true force of nature and impacted the lives of so many people – including my wife Jaye, and me.
In 2003 Jaye underwent an aortic valve replacement operation at the Heart Hospital in Albuquerque. (She had been flown there on an emergency Flight for Life for open heart surgery.) Shorty after we finally returned to Pagosa, Ron and Cindy dropped by our house unannounced. They wanted to make sure Jaye was on the mend and needed to know what they could do to help us. We tried to refuse their offer of a little cash but they insisted. Of course there was a round of hugs – and a few tears, I might add.
Hence forth we considered them family. I started calling them Aunt Cindy and Uncle Ron, pet names of endearment that persist until this day. (As it turns out, Ron was everyone’s surrogate uncle.)
Ron helped me out on several occasions, often by driving me to the VA clinic in Durango. And over the years I have reciprocated by doing odds and ends for him. More recently, when he was living at the Bee Hive, I’d take him to lunch and then drive him around town, going down his extensive list of things-to-do. We had a lot of laughs together and his laugh was infectious. I’m proud of the fact that I could always make him laugh…
Ron and Cindy moved to Pagosa in 1997 and soon took over the town, thanks to a full-time charm campaign. The two bighearted crusaders attended every doggone event in Pagosa Springs (sometimes three in one day!) helping out with donations, hard work and constant altruistic deeds worthy of local sainthood. I often kidded Ron that he was only after the free food. (Not!)
One evening Ron and Cindy showed up at the infamous Bear Creek Saloon where I was playing drums with my band, Dog At Large. They introduced themselves on break and after that they saw me play with several other bands including their favorites: Rio Jazz, and later on, John Graves and Friends. And man, could that crazy Ron dance up a storm. He’d even dance the rumba with my dear old mom. He was a sort of a cross between Fred Astaire and Jerry Lewis. It was frightening…
I read Uncle Ron’s lengthy obituary (in the SUN, June 20) and was amazed at his accomplishments in a life well-lived; his many decorations for his service as an Air Force Master Sergeant, his civilian careers, his children and stepchildren, and the enormous list of local charitable organizations in Archuleta County of which he was a card carrying member or patron.
And like my father, Ron was a very sweet and kind man of resolute faith. He was a good Christian in the true sense: he didn’t simply talk the talk, he walked the walk every day of his long, meaningful life. He taught people what it was to be a good person by example, not by words alone. Compassion and genuine love were his creed.
A prominent statue of Ron and Cindy Gustafson should be erected. We’d call it: ‘Mr. and Ms. Pagosa’ – the heart and soul and conscience of a grateful community.
A constant reminder that, once upon a time, angels walked in our midst.
DC has been a frustrated musician for over fifty years, and now has decided to become a frustrated writer. Learn more at DCDuncan.com. He’ll keep you posted.