Monday, September 1, 2025
An Ode to My Friend Ray
Ray and I were friends for nearly forty years. We first met as young road patrol officers—Ray in Taylor, and me in Allen Park. Our paths crossed often on the afternoon shift, usually over a cup of coffee. And it was in those moments we discovered how much we shared: a love of baseball, good food from every corner of the world, history—especially World War II—our dogs, and of course, racquetball.
When Wayne County formed a Crisis Negotiating Team, Ray and I became founding members. For sixteen years we served side by side, the longest-tenured officers on the team. Those were years of trust, of leaning on each other, and of knowing the man beside you would never let you down.
Even after we both retired—Ray a year before me—our friendship never slowed. We met at Lifetime Fitness three times a week, and those sessions turned into four-hour marathons: weightlifting, racquetball, sauna, swimming, and always ending with our ritual fruit smoothie. Honestly, those were some of the best times of my life. We kept at it into our mid-fifties until our bodies reminded us we weren’t twenty anymore. But Ray never gave in. He was the fiercest competitor I’ve ever known. He’d play through pain, push through injuries—eventually even through two knee replacements. That was Ray: grit and determination wrapped in a smile.
But if there was one thing greater than his love of competition, it was his love of family. Ray never spoke long without bringing up Cindy and his stepchildren. His pride and devotion to them was constant, and you could feel the joy it gave him just to talk about them.
Ray had a gift for people. He was gregarious, quick with a smile that could light up a room, and his sharp wit could cut through even the tensest of moments. He made people feel lighter, even when the world was heavy.
In recent years, as his health challenges came, Ray carried them with the same determination he brought to the racquetball court. When I’d call him—by then I was living out of state—he’d give me a quick update on how he was doing, and then right away, he’d turn the conversation back to the things he loved: history, the Tigers, and of course, our endless racquetball battles. To Ray, his challenges were just bumps in the road, nothing more.
It has been the honor of my life to know Ray, to serve with him, to compete with him, and to call him my friend. I am a better man for having walked beside him all these years.
Ray was the best of us—tough, joyful, loyal, and true. And though we’ll miss him dearly, his spirit will stay with us, in every smile, every story, and every memory of a life well lived.
