Roger Lee Preston passed away on August 29, 2026, while some of his last words were hard to understand, one of the last clear phrases was “welp, see ya” stated in an almost flippant tone. Let’s back up a bit though, because aren’t we all a sum of our parts rather than simply the distilled result? Roger was born on September 14, 1949 in Afton Wy, to Royal and Louise Preston. He came into this world with the incomparably tolerant and kind Marsha McKim as an older sister, and soon was awarded with the ever stalwart and thoughtful Bill Preston for a younger brother. Marsha describes young roger as being dutiful and mature for his age, though before the filter of nicety and forgiveness that comes with one’s passing, I can recall several stories such as him chasing after her with birds to scare her.

He spent much of his youth in the mountains herding sheep on horseback, long months of seclusion no doubt contributing to his firm belief that the truth of the matter was infinitely more valuable than its palatability. When the school year rolled around he found an aptitude for academics and a voracious appetite for knowledge of all kinds. By the time he graduated high school, he had sunk into the well of depravity so deeply he grew long hair and went to college. In his undergraduate education in Logan, he met a cluster of other thinkers drinkers and blasphemers with whom he formed a cohort of mildly redneck hippies. Kayo, Mitch, Schafer, Chet, Tom, Charlie, Max, Cindy, Manfred and more connected over a shared love of disagreeing with one another over any and all available topics. This trend continued until his dying day wherein he thought his time had come, and his friends all thought they’d like him around a bit longer. Unfortunately for Roger, he backed out of that particular dispute prematurely, so his final opinion on the matter is unknown.

Royal, his father made a bit of an unspoken pact with Roger that he would try his best to hold onto this mortal coil long enough for Roger to attain his doctorate in veterinary medicine from UC Davis, and in exchange, Roger would do his best to keep the ranch running along in one piece. This pact was honored in the intent if not the letter, and Roger graduated with high marks as a veterinarian. In the coming years, both Royal and Louise passed away, leaving the three children to carry their legacy each in their own way.

In the late 70’s a blonde beauty waltzed into his life, a professor of metal arts at St Mary’s college, pioneer of women’s motor cross, sailor, surfer, horse trainer and undisputedly kind and patient woman arrived at Dad’s bar in a yellow Porsche and fur coat asking after Roger Preston. To which the male patrons asked askance “What do you want him for!?!” Begrudgingly, they pointed her in the direction of the ranch, and a love story began. Bonnie Preston was a seventh generation Californian, and came with all the boons and pitfalls therein. On the one hand, she bore him two children in Lee and Lauren Preston, a profound love of sailing, and her family’s marina which would go on to help support Roger’s debilitating ranching habit. On the downside, Lee and Lauren would eventually grow into dreaded half-Californians, cursed with all the trappings afforded by a socialist education.

His son Lee, being the older of the two was a combination of Roger’s quick wit and Bonnie’s charisma, a pairing of traits that is best described anecdotally by the fact that when elected to the office of class president, he was made to sign a document promising to “never again incite the student body to riot”. Their daughter Lauren was gifted her mother’s creativity and Roger’s stubbornness or as her teacher’s graciously called it “tenacity”.

In 1998 Roger lost his younger brother Bill, a devastating blow, because though they were close, Roger always regretted not showing him more gratitude and grace in their work on the ranch together. Then, in 2002, during Lee’s second year of college at Cal Poly, he was killed as a pedestrian by a truck while walking along the road at night, a turn of events that shocked Roger, his family and the community as a whole. In the wake of these events, Roger was always more keen to suffer in silence, but as is often the case with men of the agricultural affliction he continued on with his life, continuing to devote himself to the ranch so as to provide for his wife and daughter.

Through his and Bonnie’s hard work they managed to send Lauren abroad to Belgium to university, where she made all the quintessential mistakes of youth, even having married one of them briefly. In the 2010’s Roger’s health began to decline, the man who had lived his life as the paragon of healthy activity with the occasional foray into debauchery was suddenly assaulted with the medial barrage of diabetes, heart disease and prostate cancer.

Over the next few years, Lauren divorced the pumped up exercise in futility that was her then husband, and started working on the ranch. She slowly learned the ins and outs of farming to the best of her ability, and as a testament to her resourcefulness, she began importing friends to work on the ranch. Within a few years of trying to turn a working ranch into a summer camp for foreign nationals, she met Gareth “Gaz” Clatworthy, a helicopter mechanic for the Royal Navy’s Commando Helicopter force, and consummate student of increasingly esoteric subjects who is currently working on his master’s in physics. Gaz took to ranching with the enthusiasm that can only be described by explaining that he may have a “touch of the ‘tism” and in him Roger found the answer to his prayers.

When Lauren and Gaz wed in 2020, Roger stood tall in his hot pink satin shirt giving a speech that “welcome(d Gaz) to the operation”. With the assurance that the ranch would be continued and cared for by the next generation, Roger started slowly letting back on the reins and working on his bucket list, going to Scotland and Wales, on a cruise to Alaska, and to French Quarter Festival in New Orleans. At the beginning of 2026 his doctors took him off the last of his trials to combat the cancer and advised him not to invest in any long term annuities. In typical contrary fashion, Roger then proceeded to go out and buy a long term annuity. By August he started to feel substantial amounts of pain, any by the end of the month he lie in his bed in his ancestral ranch house surrounded by family and friends and as if speaking in his sleep, he said “whelp, see ya” and drifted off, leaving his wife, daughter, sister, son in law and friends there to mourn his loss. For all of the intricacies of his life, and the lengthiness of this telling, those who knew him would usually agree that he was a good man, an honest and caring man, with a quick wit and a strong will. The world is a better place for having had him in it.