Original Publication Date: 9/05/07
A group of friends and I suffered a loss last week. His name was Roger Reinsmith and he was only 46. To those of you in your 20s reading this, it sounds old. To those of us in our 30s, it’s not. I knew Roger socially through a number of acquaintances over the past 12 years. From what people have shared, he was somewhat tight-lipped about his formative years and tended to be rather detached or unemotional when discussing his family. From what I know myself, Roger never thought twice about offering his home to host a party (with his dogs’ permission of course), attended every group function he could and supported everybody’s efforts, my book signings included. He had a somewhat dry–yet wicked–sense of humor that came out to play the better he knew you. When he was on his game, you laughed, and he was on his game more often than not. Your happiness was his. He also loved funny hats and even painted, things I wasn’t aware of.