Ron Schmidt

I always saw Ron as a smart, funny, kind friend. He was as quick to encourage me with my guitar playing as I was to tease him about his accordion. Always warning him to keep his car doors locked or he would wind up with a few spares. The faces in our audience would consistently light up when he would get his accordion out of the box and start to play. He was really very good and a few folks would always come by after the performance to ask him about it. I think it touched a chord with the older people, particularly those from up north, taking them back to younger days and also many of the younger people who had never seen a live accordion player. For the past several years, until the Covid, Ron and I regularly played music together and with other friends. He had a penchant for sad, slow songs written by, what I considered, somewhat obscure songwriters. He introduced me to several American singer-songwriters who never had a hit record or would barely be sighted in record stores much less being played on the radio or achieving the respect they probably deserved. Unlike myself, he liked to play along in large groups and would always carry along his guitar on camping trips should the opportunity arise to play with others. When we first started playing, he would send me song titles and YouTube links. I would get the words and work out the chord progression that went along with the video and adjust the key to whatever he had suggested. Then, when we'd get together and play the song, he would seldom play and sing anywhere near what I had put down on paper. I would point out the discrepancy and he would reply, "Well, this is how I do it". I would reply, "That's fine but, don't send me links to songs if you're going to play them some other way". I had to pay very close attention to what he was playing and singing to follow along. It wasn't enough to just know a song. Though I initially groused about it, I came realize it was a pretty good mental exercise and a benefit to my cognitive ability with the music. Lisa and I both had to be in a position on stage to be able to see him playing and watch where he was on the fretboard. This created some awkward positioning on a small stage. We played one place so small I was somewhat behind him and under the main speaker so I couldn't see or hear! Ron had a unique and familiar voice that some folks identified with and some not as much. He loved performing and was great at setting up gigs. He never had a bad time playing. He played some chords he didn't mean to play but they were never bad chords and usually fit in with the tunes he sang. It wasn't just about the music. Anne and I fully enjoyed Ron & Gail's company and knew we in for a good time and witty conversation whether we were at a dinner or bowling date, camping trip or just a visit. Ron was a good guy & a good comrade. I didn't talk with him every day or even every week but we'd usually touch base on a fairly regular basis to see what was going on and it was good to know he was always readily available and we could do that. He often kept in touch while traveling and would make astute observations on the people and places he and Gail visited. I know very little of his life in academia. Mostly funny little snippets of old Food Science Department gossip he would tell when they came to mind. I know he had a clear vocation in the food safety business and, I'm sure, made a mark on that world. I miss Ron and hate to delete him from my phone. I grieve for him and tell myself, to treasure the time you have, pay attention, take care of what needs doing and cherish your friends before they pass.