by Huck Forest
It's been a little while since the untimely, unjust, sudden and poorly, poorly investigated passing of my brother-in-non-violent-arms, Ronald Bonemaker. And, you know, I'm the kind of guy who wants to tell everyone what I think. So, let me tell you a little bit of a story about how I got to know what Ronald was really about.
Something happened one day that really said a lot, in fact it was later on the same day when he first came to the house of my good friends Brian and Jol, otherwise known as Cubby Control. Of course, those of you who watch the show know that Ronald did not come alone: he brought with him some zucchini bread that he himself had prepared as part of the introductory message he wanted to send to the people. I realize that zucchini bread is not actually a person, and that other people, if they had zucchini bread when they were feeling lonely, might very well continue to feel lonely. But Ronald's zucchini bread was made with such obvious skill and care that it was practically a sentient being in its own way. It was moist yet firm in its consistency, sweet yet complex in its flavor. Overall, I got the impression that it was highly wholesome. It was like having a little partner hanging out right there in your stomach. Heck, it made one person jump up and down in glee and another try to hoard the remainder of the loaf.
In any case, that stuff was unique and I felt sort of refreshed or renewed after only a few bites. In fact, after the whole visit was over, I went out and did some Lo Chang maneuvers (you know which one) for about ten hours and managed to hone them to an even more inspirational level of prowess. Even though I singed the cuffs of my gi, I think the bread brought a long-needed degree of intensity to my training. I apologize, though, because I'm starting to go off on a little bit of a side track.
What I really wanted to tell you wasn't just that Ronald brought us all this high-quality bread, but, when he saw how we were filled with joy over it and were even slightly giddy and whimsical, he went so far as to bring out the recipe and offered to give a little baking clinic right there at Cubby Control. He even went out to buy some of the ingredients, which, by the way, he didn't let on too much about even though they had strange names I had never heard before. None of us cared bacause we were all lost in an impromptu round of Neo-kinetic square dancing that has been sort of the local craze in the last few weeks. He just went out wherever he went to get them, came back and guided us all through the process, pointing out the details of the trickier parts in a color-coded schematic diagram that he drew on a dry erase board. I'm telling you, the man was a regular pedogogical powerhouse.
Before we knew it we had several more loaves cooling on the racks and more important, the know-how to make it anytime we wanted. You know that old saying about a hungry guy and giving him fish? Well, this was the same thing except it was more about metaphysical nourishment. Since then I make as many loaves as I can and eat a little with all my meals, in-between snacks, vitamin boosts, power-shake breaks and, really now that I think about it, at regular 15 minute intervals. It's some really good stuff.
Well, by the time Ronald was ready to go, we were all pretty much beside ourselves because we ate A LOT of his zucchini bread. To tell you the absolute truth, we weren't really making a whole lot of sense. Ronald though, was not put off in the least. Before he left, he merely smiled, shook each of our hands, and said something that has always stuck in my mind:
"Everyone needs some special ingredients sometimes, because, without them, life seems too store-bought."
I'll tell that really struck a chord within me--actually it was more like he did one of those crazy Eddie Van Halen solos within me--but, in any case, I was moved and I'm sure everyone who was there that day would agree.
