Ron Richard

Hi, my name is Ron and I’ll be your author today. My tastes are what you might call lowbrow. I prefer King Kong over King Lear. While I’ve performed Shakespeare on stage a few times, it’s not my favorite literature. Like Shakespeare, my writing contains occasional scenes of gory violence, but in a fun, light-hearted kind of way, however nonsensical that sounds. Having grown up in Wyoming, the least populated state, many of my fanciful adventures take place in wide-open, wilderness settings. Just natural for me, I guess.

While I was still working at painting crosswalks and fixing traffic signs, there was not enough time for writing. Once I retired, it hit me. “Hey, I can be a writer now!” So I started on page one. Soon after, something happened that gave me even more time. I was diagnosed with idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis (even though I had never smoked, which ain’t even hardly fair). My doctor told me there was no cure short of a lung transplant. My very first reaction was, “No way I’m going to suffer through that!” Were it not for the love of a woman, I might have just accepted that I would have a relatively short remainder of my life. But my wife Pat wasn’t about to let me. She saw to it that I saw every doctor west of the Mississippi and regulated my bucket and a half of pills that I take every day. Finally after two years of physical therapy, carrying oxygen tanks around, and endless medical testing, I was placed on a transplant list. Even then, I wasn’t too optimistic, since I had heard that one can be on such a list for months or even years. Twelve days later, I received a call. They had a compatible lung available for me in Denver. The next day I had a new left lung in my body courtesy of a young donor. I shall be forever grateful to this soldier who served his country and gave me life.