Ron Tor:

The Trials & Tribulations of Becoming a Man

Denton, TX - Stockton, CA - Las Vegas, NV

Chamroen (pronounced “Chahm-rahn”) Tor, better known as Ron, spent his first 10 years as a free-roaming little boy in Cambodia: no school, no restrictions, no specific hours for going to bed or rising in the morning, and the freedom to investigate every whim and fancy. It was a life every boy dreams of but rarely has the opportunity to live. Ron had complete responsibility for himself alone.

When I first met Ron, I was immediately attracted to him, and I think he was to me, too. He was so bright, so creative, and so artistic; and he possessed a sturdy small body that could maneuver amazingly well - up trees, around my shop, and in general. He was not a nervous kid; he was not the jumpy type and was always in control of himself. When he found his way into my workshop, he would always create something unusual with scrap pieces of wood; once he made a wooden gun that shot rubber bands automatically, and another time he carved a hawk’s head out of a simple little piece of wood that captured his imagination.

But school was not easy for him. There were too many things to think about, such as learning how to speak English and how to develop personal relationships. He was never “in” with a popular crowd but made friends with those on the fringe, with whom he was more comfortable. He was very successful in art; one of his creations, a wildflower design, won first place at an art fair held on the Texas Woman’s University campus.

Ron also displayed mechanical skills at around age 12, when he began collecting discarded bicycles from people, moving them to his back yard, and using the good parts to repair old broken bikes. This was quite an unusual bit of enterprise for a kid that age.

Although he never graduated from high school, Ron earned his GED and associate degree from a junior college in automobile mechanics, which would become his special field of expertise.

Ron would often go fishing or hunting with me, and we could talk about human relationships, but it took some time for him to develop his own persona in this area. He was fine with a bamboo fishing pole or a rod and reel, but he was not so adept at making good buddies with many boys, maybe having one or two during his time in Denton.

He caught on quickly to hunting with my .22 rifle and .410 shotgun. I can still see his broad smile and beaming eyes when he returned to me after a solo hunting foray, holding up a sparrow he had shot in the bushes. He was so pleased with himself! - and so was I. The ducks would come later, with me, in the duck blind. Friends would come later, too, but that would be in California and they would not be great influences on Ron.

In 1985, the family moved to Stockton, CA. Len had discovered a large Cambodian community there, and California had the Pell Grant, which provided money for refugee families. Ron was in and out of school, not doing well and not interested in it. He fell in with a gang.

One night he was driving his own car with two fellow gang members, one of whom was in the back seat with a rifle. They were cruising around Stockton looking for rival gang members, and when they came upon their prey the guy in Ron’s back seat opened fire, wounding the enemy and pumping the car full of bullet holes. Ron and his passengers sped away from the scene, but not before someone got his license number.

By the next day or two, all three boys were in custody. The actual perpetrator got a jail sentence, and if he had killed the other gang member, that sentence would have been much worse. Ron was sentenced to eight months in a juvenile detention center.

I’m not certain about the timing of this incident, but sometime during that period he got involved in something else. Although he was reluctant to spill the beans to us, during a phone call when I asked “What’s new?” and he had flippantly replied “Oh, nothing much,” he announced after 10 minutes of innocuous conversation, “Oh, I probably should tell you: I’m going to be a father!”

His voice was calm and subdued; the italics are indicative of how my mind responded to the news.

“You are WHAT?” I exploded. Then, receiving confirmation, I proceeded to give him instructions. “You must go immediately to a Planned Parenthood office in Stockton and see about getting an abortion for that little girl.” The mother was 15; Ron was 21. I explained further, “You are not yet ready to have a family when you can’t even take care of yourself. You have not completed your training, and you have no income.”

Monica was the girl’s name, and I asked him and she loved him. “Too much,” was his answer. She was a cute little blue-eyed blonde, and she had fallen head over heels for the handsome Ron. She was also a member of a staunch Catholic family that instantly rejected any suggestion of an abortion. Ron would become a father, all right.

Monica visited Ron in the detention center periodically, and in due time, Seth Anthony was born, healthy and beautiful. The young family lived with Monica’s parents.

Once out of custody, Ron got serious about caring for his wife and son. He got a job in a garage, working on cars. His special skill was the suspension system. “If you want your car or pickup to ride four inches or four feet above the pavement, I can fix it for you,” he explained. From that point on, he has never been without work. He started at $7 per hour, and the last time I asked his pay (sometime before the year 2000) he was making more like $18 per hour. He was in demand as a mechanic, and was successful enough to consider going into business for himself.

[SIDEBAR BELOW]

Ron was never loud or boisterous, and he was extremely soft-spoken over the phone. When he’d call and we’d say, “Hello?” and then wait for a barely audible “hi” on the other end. “Hello?” a little louder. “Hi.” “Ron, is that you?” “Yes.” --Well, he got over his quiet talking when he and Monica attended an Amway sales training presentation. Although the idea of selling Amway products wasn’t attractive for long, Ron learned from that experience how to greet people and how to “sell” himself or his product to both individuals and groups. The next time he called, after completing the training, I answer the phone with my usual “Hello?” and heard, “HI THERE, THIS IS RON TOR!” I couldn’t believe my ears! He had made a major step forward in the world of personal skills and relationships.

Monica and Ron were officially married somewhere around 1992. In 1995, their second child, Odessey, was born. When their daughter was about one year old, the family came to visit us for a week. Monica wrote in advance that her own grandmother had died before she had gotten to really know her, and she had heard so much about us that she wanted to meet us. Her writing gave us clues that Ron had married a bright, sensitive young lady.

They drove to Denton in late spring of 1996 in a “monster truck” that Ron had reconstructed himself. You had to be part monkey to get into it, because the body was three feet above ground level! We had a great visit. Monica looked through all our photo albums, learning about the history of the Tor family in Denton. The two children were wonderful: bright, attentive, and disciplined. Amazing! Ron and Monica were rearing their children like experts!

Ron took Monica to visit all his favorite spots in Denton and introduced her to several friends, notably David Overton and his new wife. Having them here was a memorable time for us.

On their way back to Las Vegas, their truck broke down just west of Childress. Ron could fix it himself, but he didn’t have the part to replace the universal joint in the rear axle. He called Amarillo on his cell phone, got a taxi to come out (125 miles one way) to take his family into an Amarillo motel, then to get the part he needed, then take him back to his truck. However, the family did NOT want to stay in the motel without Daddy, so they came along. Ron reported that they finally got back to the motel at about 4 a.m. - but the truck was repaired, and the remainder of the trip home went without incident.

Of course, Ron called us with the whole story after they had made it home to Las Vegas. I blurted out, “ That must have cost you a fortune!” to which he coolly replied, “It wasn’t that bad. I’ll have it paid off by next March.” Holy smokes! My boy Ron had become a manager of money and relationships, I thought, and I complimented him on his skills.

He and Monica were buying a new home in a new subdivision just outside Las Vegas. Monica was working, too, sometimes as a barmaid. I told Ron I didn’t think that was a very good idea, but I think my comments fell on deaf ears.

We had no contact for several months. When I finally called, Ron’s life had changed again. He and Monica had divorced, and Monica kept the house and the children. Ron would have the kids every other weekend - a common arrangement. Naturally, I asked why this had happened, and it was very difficult to discuss over the phone. No coherent answer was forthcoming, but I suspect Ron had returned to some of his freewheeling ways, doing what he wanted to do and shirking his family responsibilities; I don’t know. I do know their separation was sad news. He had, however, found a new mate, Rachel, who was younger and had two children of her own. Ron remarked that the four kids played well together.

Ron had been helpful to his younger brother and sisters, and I hope I encouraged him to continue in his “family steadying” ways, telling him that he had both the brains and the leadership skills to help his siblings maneuver through this tricky world of ours. I have continued to declare my faith in him and my hopes for him, and I think he is grateful. He has managed to overcome many setbacks, as well as my disappointments in him, and will again rise to provide strong leadership for his parents, brother and sisters, and his families. Like his dad, Ron is a survivor.