I grew up living right across the street from Myrl and Roy in the 70's & 80's. Tony and I were best buddies most every Summer from 5 to 13 years old. We would run up to the top of the hill at 4:35pm on any given weekday and wait to see Roy's little white Toyota pick-up come around the corner. He was on his way home from Box Board. He would honk the horn, let us jump in the bed, and go hastily down the hill as we laughed. Roy, had worked all day, but would run inside and then come out to throw us the football, or teach us how to throw a knuckleball. He was so amazing....and so cool. He always called me "Dude" for some reason, and I certainly didn't mind. Years later, I would be loading up my car to head to college from right across the street, and Roy yells our "Dude", and I raise my arm to recognize his gesture. Then he says "Be Careful!". I look back now, and I am so thankful that I had Roy in my life. I bet anyone that has taken the time to read this feels the same. Rest in peace Mr. Cato.