Ridgmar Mall
By Dan Roark
Kevin was my roommate when I was manager of Famous Ramos Hot Dogs in Ridgmar Mall in Ft. Worth in the early 80s. Kevin worked across from Famous Ramos at a jewelry store, the name of which escapes me. I think it was Sterling Jewelers, but don’t quote me. He played a little guitar, as I recall, but not much. He rode bulls at a local rodeo on weekends. We did play a few shows together in Ft. Worth over the years before disco kicked in. I played guitar while I sang and he followed along on his guitar.
When the job at Famous Ramos ended, I moved out, got married, and moved back to Dallas. But we still kept in touch. We were living on Marquita, in the M streets, off of Matilda, one street east of Greenville Ave. The marriage didn’t last too long after we moved to the house on Marquita, despite producing a beautiful daughter previously.
I don’t know if I had a housemate when the phone rang, but it’s highly likely. It was a duplex that my parents and I owned. We rented out the other side. I often had friends hanging out. Kevin had arranged to come over to Dallas for the evening. But he was running late. This was back in the days when CB radios were common. Whoever was with me at the time and I had been drinking beer and smoking whatever. The phone rang – we still had landlines at the time.
Being a smartass, I answered, “City morgue, you stab ’em, we slab ’em!”
“This is Officer Harman of the North Richland Hills police.”
In my head I begin to panic.
“Yes sir,” I replied – not having any idea why he was calling.
“Kevin Hunter is running late and wanted me to let you know that he is still on the way.”
“I appreciate it,” I said. “Thanks for calling.” My voice was a little shaky.
“Have a good evening.”
I hung up and starting breathing again.
While I was glad to know that Kevin was still on his way, I was a little perturbed about him having the policeman call me. He knew me and I would have thought he would know not to have a cop call me. Yet it wasn’t like he had him actually stop by.
But it worked. And it turned out to be a pleasant evening.
Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.
Peace be with you.
By Dan Roark
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