For many the name Ronald MacDonald might conjur images of a red-haired clown who peddles french fries and cheesburgers. In my case, it conjurs images of a red-haired teacher who peddled the English language and literature. Ron MacDonald was one of my most memorable teachers in high school.
He had a huge bookcase in his classroom, filled with books that he lent out liberally to students. Once I approached him to apologize for being late in returning one particular novel, and he (somewhat jokingly, I imagine) repsonded with “You know, stealing books shouldn’t be criminal.”
Once he called me after class and I was certain I was in trouble (probably pushing the envelop for what was considered acceptable in young literature, I have a bit of a dark streak when it comes to fiction). Instead, he handed me a well used copy of The Handmaid’s Tale, one of the epic books of my youth. Although I was always a reader, he became sort of a book pusher, constantly suggesting books I might find interesting. He also gave me The Giver, which I read cover to cover in one afternoon flat and still remember with alarming clarity (those gray eyes…).
He was an old scotsman I believe, and had a bright red face (that most of us I suspect, attributed to his drinking). He had a handle bar mustache and a habit of getting food lodged in there, but he would stand in front of the class room and teach us as though we all wanted to grow up to be literary masters. He took little notice of students who took little notice of him, but those who expressed an interest in literature were nurtured and constantly supplied with books.
Sadly, he passed away while I was still in university. Living a life of a bachelor, I like to imagine that he was in fact, married to his books. To this day, I can look at my bookshelf and see volumes that were passed from his hands to mine and think fondly of all that he taught me.
Update: Says Beth Button, a classmate of mine and a relative of Mr. MacDonald’s;
He came up in conversation recently. Ronnie was a pretty close family member. Notorious for being eccentric and also for buying every single christmas present in a theme each year. I think if I had known him now, I would have appreciated him so much more than I did as a kid.
A bachelor who died without a will or any real indication of what he wanted. Instead of the traditional funeral, we all gathered at another family member’s house in a circle, with his tobacco pipe, and passed the pipe around as family members had an opportunity to tell a story or share thoughts. In it’s own way it was quite beautiful.
Of course then there was drinking.