My Tribute to Roger

When I was in my early twenties, I worked for my dad’s food distribution company. One of our truck drivers was Roger. He was extremely shy with a sweet face and quiet voice. And a fabulous sense of humor.

Roger was the first person I knew who owned his own computer. And he talked with people via the “bulletin board” long before the Internet became a household word. In those days, your connection was dependent on your telephone service. Roger had exorbitant phone bills because he met a woman on the bulletin board who lived in San Francisco. This was the first I’d heard of computer dating. The first just about anyone had heard of it.

In the seventies, my dad wanted to computerize our operation for speed and efficiency. Problem was, the industry was too new. The software we needed didn’t exist. So he and Roger spent some long hours discussing the situation. Dad designed what we needed, and Roger wrote the programs. When we shut down the company in 2005, we were still running Roger’s programs for many of the systems. And Roger was second only to my sister’s husband in longevity with the company. Over twenty-five years.

In the eighties, when I was writing romance novels the first time around, I was talking to Roger about it one day. He said, “Why don’t you write one about a computer guy?” I had never sat down at a computer at that point in my life, but it seemed logical enough. We talked about it for a while, and the story that became my first published work was born.

The hero of Bittersweet Betrayal, Zachary Spencer, was a bit of a Steve Jobs kind of guy. He’d built the first popular home computer and become wealthy as owner of his company. The book is set in Boston. Roger was from Boston. Zachary had green eyes. Roger had green eyes. Zachary smoked a pipe. Roger smoked a pipe. Roger chose Zachary’s birthday - Flag Day - and Zachary’s car - a Jaguar.

Much later when I became president of my family’s business, Roger was one of my favorites there. He was one of the few people left who remembered my dad. He was always good for a funny story when things were overwhelming me. He could be so exasperating! I’d describe to him in detail what I needed a particular computer program to do. He’d shake his head and say, “That’s not possible.” Thirty or so minutes later, he’d put a print out on my desk and say, “Is this what you meant?”

There are so many things I could write about that it would take pages and pages. Like the time he taped a fish to the bottom of Ron’s desk. The night he bowled a perfect game. The day a bee flew into his truck and he almost had an accident. The near miss when his truck caught fire and he barely got out in time. The way he would sneak to the snack machine and get a Twinkie, hoping no one would see him. The story about his mother having tea with Mrs. Calvin Coolidge.

The world lost a kind and gentle soul on Monday when Roger Edwards passed from this life. I hope he’s in a place where there is no pain, where music of the ‘40s plays all the time, and where everyone appreciates a good practical joke.

I've searched my files, and the only photo I can find of him is from Halloween. He was dressed as the Bride of Frankenstein. He's lovely in a pale peach gown. I can't bring myself to post that one today, although I'm quite sure he would think it hysterically funny. I'll save that for another time.

Rest in peace, my Roger.
Delia/Suzanne/Susan