George Arthur
Feb. 21, 1948-June 1, 1985

"Closure for Deputy's Family" (article)

I sincerely welcome this opportunity to pay tribute to someone who meant so much to me in high school. George Arthur was a wonderful young man, cherished by his big family and devoted to his many friends. And, for one magical year, he was my high school sweetheart.

George was a great friend. He listened, supported, and always made me laugh. He saw beyond my high school status as "the girl with good grades" and reached for my soul, which he touched with tenderness. Ours was an innocent, yet very romantic relationship, the type about which every 16-year old girl dreams.

It might even surprise some of his guy friends to know that George wrote me long, rhyming love poems each week. (My mother, who also adored George, kept these poems in a drawer beside her bed, long after graduation!) No doubt about it, George had a huge heart.

Some of my favorite adventures that we shared were: going to the Junior Prom at the old Pacific Coast Club (my hair was about two feet high), taking weekly walks on the Seal Beach pier (during which we discussed all matters of the universe), burning the boys' Chemistry books in a big beach bonfire (I was the "one girl"), waiting to hug each other after the football games (after a week of "no talking" as demanded by Coach), driving around in his beloved old car (which broke down regularly), and listening in person to "The Association" sing our song "Cherish" at all the local coffee houses (while sublimely sipping hot chocolate).

After our breakup, we remained friendly and saw each other every so often over the next five years. And then, after we both had married, we lost touch with each other. It was nearly 15 years later that I got the early morning phone call from Beau Hanson that George had died. I was pregnant at the time (finally), and even the bouyant joy I was feeling was no match for the deep sorrow I felt upon hearing that sad news. With George's passing, I knew that the world had lost an incredible light. I wish I could have told him again what a significant role he had played in my life, how much confidence he had given me, and how grateful I was for having been introduced to love by someone so wonderful.

Ronald Becker
April 2, 1948-October 11, 2005

Ron left behind two daughters, Laura and Jennifer Becker of Orange County, his mother, Flora Wagle of Hesperia, four stepchildren Joseph Goss (Michelle) of LasVegas, Anthony Di Leva (Beth), Shannon Bosy (Cory), Jarod Goss, all of Orange County and 4 grandchildren, Quinn, Cheyenne, Austin and Justin.

William Lynch
May 5, 1948-August 15, 1967

I never met William Lynch; Bill's father died before we became friends. His loss had something to do with us becoming friends. After high school, Bill and I hitchhiked across New England together for two weeks. We spent countless hours trying to figure out: Women, Viet Nam, College, sports cars, and of course, how to beat each other in chess.

Now, as a therapist, I often see things in a person's choice of music. The night before he died, Bill was singing two songs "I'm Just Sitting on a Fence, Who's to Say I've Got No Sense" by the Rolling Stones along with Country Joe and the Fish's "Who am I" (To Stand and Wonder, To Wait, While the Wheels of Fate-Slowly Grind My Life Away?)

Despite being incredibly intellegent, William David Lynch was a deeply religious man. One of his stories was about "making out" with a woman he worshiped: Bill described (no details of course, a gentleman does not tell) getting sexually excited---and then - She and Bill stopped and prayed the Rosary ...

That last night, he spoke of the women he cared about, and his confusion.

Famous for his comments about life, the last thing he said to me was "YOU DON'T AFFECT ME; I'M MORE LIKE I AM NOW THAN I WAS WHEN I CAME HERE." Then he climbed into his TR3, and zoomed off to meet his fate. I do not think Bill ever hurt anybody, except by leaving us who loved him.--Carl Combs

Bill was incredibly intelligent (his SATs 99+ percentile), talented (singing as a trio in the cafeteria, chess, inventive, acting), but most important to me he was funny, kind and loving (especially to his widowed mother) with an insatiable thirst for knowledge. Carl was his best friend. I still have a photo (amongst others) with Bill leaning on a "No hitchhikking" sign with his grin and his thumb hooked out. No doubt Carl took the photo. Clark Gable eat your heart out. As Carl won't tell stories I shall not reveal the mysteries of the Physics Lab or the case of the missing stoplight.