Gazoo
Facebook’s been inspiring a lot of memories of Newport RI, where i grew up.
Above is a photo of Ryan Roberts, aka Gazoo, who lived a few blocks from me. As you can see from his DOB, Gazoo was a few years younger than me. He was a good guy: we weren’t best friends or anything like that, but we went to parties together and got along quite well. like so many of my friends from back in the day, he was a surfer and skater.
Ryan acquired the nickname Gazoo early in life. It’s my understanding (old time friends, please feel free to correct me in comments and i’ll edit) that as a young boy he was diagnosed with some awful form of bone cancer that led to some fairly major facial surgery. When all was said and done, the cancer was gone, but Ryan’s young face now sported a very sharp, pointy chin, which together with his giant puffy hair made him look like the Great Gazoo, the cartoon character that tormented Fred Flintstone.
Newport is a town that hands out nicknames to everyone: among my friends’ alternate names are Skeletor, Stu, Baby Huey, Tinkles, Dim, Frenchy, Eggbone, and Brundlefly (to name just a few). These aren’t necessarily bestowed in the spirit of malice, it’s just the way it is. And so Ryan went through high school and beyond with the nickname gazoo, which never seemed to bother him. He was in great shape, a strong kid who spent as much time as possible in the water or on a skateboard.
I remember when my friend Paul called me a few years ago to tell me that the cancer made a return, so many years after the initial operation, that it was terminal, and that Ryan had passed away. It’s my understanding that when he got the diagnosis, he decided to spend his remaining time hitting the waves and slopes, traveling around the country living his dream until his time came to go.
I hope I have this story right, because seeing this photograph brings back a lot of memories.
January 14th, 2009 at 4:45 am
You have it right.
Ryan was a great guy. He was also a distant cousin of mine.
I never really knew his family that well, but I met his father, Doyle, when I was doing a feature story about the fading tradition of Newport estate gardeners (Doyle was one) when I was interning at the Daily News. Ryan was still alive at the time, and Doyle, as fathers tend to do, was grumbling a bit about Ryan taking the winter off to snowboard out west (I think in Colorado) instead of pursuing college. I told him that I actually envied Ryan for following his heart, because at the time I wasn’t sure that I’d end up pursuing a news career if or when I finished school. He seemed to lighten up a bit when I shared that.
January 14th, 2009 at 3:33 pm
My memory may be a bit skewed. But I believe that after the cancer came back, knowing the prognosis was terminal. His parents bought him a nice little conversion van and a chocolate lab puppy and sent him out across the country to see all of his friends and family. He went north, south and west. Surfed, skated and snowboarded everywhere he could. By the time he got back he was doing noticeably worse than when he left. I want to say it was maybe a year and a half after his return before he was gone.
I’ll never forget the last time I saw him at ruggles before he was too sick to do anything. He had had several surgeries to try and remove the cancer. I won’t go into to detail about how he looked. Except to say that it was heartbreaking. I remember talking to him about the surf and how he was doing. In my heart I knew things weren’t going to end well. But I stayed positive and did my best to keep his spirits up at that particular moment. To his credit, he was only looking ahead. He maintained hope the whole way thru. Like the strong kid he was.
It’s bittersweet to reminisce this, but…. On Christmas eve 1999, his parents threw a super fucking rager at their house. Invited anyone and everyone. Ryan was not well enough to be downstairs with us. Nor was he well enough to have visitors up to his room. But I can assure you that he heard us loud and clear thru the floors. It was a Newport rager for the ages and something I will always be proud to have been a part of. We finished the party in true Newport fashion by drinking ALL of the alcohol in the house and lingering around until there was just no point in staying anymore that evening. The party then migrated to Jimmy’s Saloon where the madness continued until closing. Albeit with all heavy hearts in the bar.
He was gone within a few weeks of that.
RIP Ryan. You are missed by many.
January 14th, 2009 at 4:21 pm
if i have to go out, i want to go out like ryan did. take the bull by the horns, and have the best time i can before I gotta go.
I’m sure gazoo knew you guys were partying all the harder in his honor. great comment, paul.