The past is never past.

Now, that’s a phrase, a saying, I’ve used before. I’d probably like to claim it as my own. You know, original.

That’s not the case, though. I’m sure I once read it somewhere. Isn’t it interesting, friends, the things we pick up that connect with us, when we read?

A name from my past, much more than just a name, came back into my life in February. Ron Snell. You didn’t know Ron, friends. But I did. And I’m grateful for it.

You see, Ron was the bass in our barbershop quartet on the Outer Banks. The “First Flight Four.” What special times we had singing, ringing chords, entertaining. Caring about one another.

When Sally came into the room her exact words were, “I’ve got some bad news. Ron Snell died.” She had picked it up over the Internet. He had predictably died after an illness. His family was with him.

You see, Ron and Cathy had relocated to Florida some years after we had left the Outer Banks. His beloved Cathy passed away some years before.

You just might recall, kind readers, that not so very long ago I wrote about the “rendezvous” the “First Flight Four” had when we all gathered together to sing at Ron’s 50th high school reunion in 1998 up in Hartford, Connecticut. It was truly a memorable occasion.

We had gotten together earlier to rehearse some of the songs in our repertoire, and to learn, at Ron’s request, one of the truly great songs — emotion touching — of all time: “I’ll Be Seeing You.”

That was the last song the “First Flight Four” ever sang.

Our beloved baritone, Dr. Jim DeLigio, left us a few years ago. Quite suddenly, at just 56 years of age.

So, Ron and Jim. Thank you for those special times, for such precious memories.

I’m sure Bob, our tenor, joins me in saying — I’ll be seeing you.

APROPOS — “Count where man’s glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was, I had such friends.”

— Keats