Eye on the Ball: Remembering Ray
How many friends do you have who have given you unconditional love in your life?
You know what I mean — people who might not like what you are doing or disagree with you, but would never say or do anything that would hurt you in any way.
I had one until three days ago.
Ray Evangelista had every component of a true friend, including things like never talking behind my back, not fighting or arguing when we clearly disagreed on politics or religion, telling only the truth and finally, when there was a time we needed each other, being there.
My friend Ray did all of those things and a host of others above and beyond normal friendship.
Twenty-two years ago Ray had a life-threatening accident one night while coming back to the Island from Sag Harbor that left him paralyzed from his chest down for the rest of his life.
Even though I knew Ray for 25 years before this catastrophe, I had no idea how he would handle something that would change his life forever. He would now be spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair with only his arms and brain in working order.
How he would get to work, which was 75 miles away? How would he go to the bathroom, dress himself, drive his car, eat a meal, or even get in and out of the wheelchair?
This is when my friend showed me for the first time what he was really made of. As far as feeling sorry for himself, that would never happen. If you mentioned his situation, he would tell you he was lucky because many people had it a lot worse. He always pointed out that unlike others, he was fortunate to have lots of friends and family.
Ray made a decision to completely reinvent himself.
First, he used what he had, his good looks and charm. One of his nurses, Prima, caught his eye.
She was not only sweet and caring but she was also beautiful. Just how good do you have to be to get a women like this to fall in love with you? I had watched him with women before, he was good but this performance was incredible.
How incredible? Not long after, he and Prima were married. No more worries about the bathroom, getting dressed, eating, or in and out of the wheelchair. Love took over, a love so strong that it formed a bond between them that lasted 20 more years.
The 75 miles commute to work didn’t change. Ray bought a truck with a lift on the side that raised him into the vehicle. Once in, he moved himself to the driver’s seat and used hand controls to drive. It was important for him to work since he was president of Prude Construction Company, doing major work in New York City.
On Shelter Island, he had a two-story house he loved. Ray had an elevator installed that would easily take him and his wheelchair upstairs.
My friend was remarkable but you haven’t heard anything yet.
For a man who never boiled an egg, he now decided to become a gourmet chef. One problem was he couldn’t reach anything in the kitchen from his wheel chair. He took care of that by having a builder come in and lower everything in the kitchen so he could reach it.
When Ray made up his mind to do something, it got done. He enjoyed cooking so much he had a dining room with three dining tables.
As if didn’t have enough problems and things to do, he decided to play golf in his spare time, buying a single-seat golf cart with a swivel seat. He used kids’ clubs because he had to hit the ball with one hand. Under the right conditions he could sometimes hit the ball 200 yards, sporting a legitimate 29 handicap.
Last year, my friend purchased a brand new full-size pool table. He had to hit the cue ball with an overhand stroke from his wheelchair. But as always, he was competitive.
In all those years, Ray seldom asked me for anything, but only gave. He never complained about his situation because I don’t think he knew how to speak negatively. He was the master at seeing the bright side of every circumstance.
Now my friend is gone. Just one day after I sat at his house and talked with him for over an hour I got the call that he was suddenly rushed to the hospital. I was told he was shipped from hospital to hospital and didn’t need visitors. He spent the next 10 days in an intensive care unit.
It was killing me not to be able to talk with him. Sadly, my next call about Ray was to tell me he was gone.
Today, Monday, in a church full of mourners, I gave a eulogy, hoping to convey who my friend was. I don’t know if I did. But I wanted everyone to recognize that if you are lucky enough to have a person such as Ray in your life, appreciate them.
He taught me a lot about giving unconditional love and how to really be a buddy. My advice to him now is that, for the first time in 22 years not feeling pain, enjoy it.
Rest in peace, my friend.
