07/21/2026
Ronnie, our Chief Maintenance Man of 18 years, passed away unexpectedly yesterday, and the loss is hitting all of us harder than words can capture. He poured his whole heart into the Hampton—every hallway, every room, every project. If something needed fixing, he was already halfway through it before anyone finished the sentence. He worked tirelessly, took pride in doing things the right way, and cared about this place more than almost anyone else who’s ever walked through its doors.
He was a pain in my side—and he loved every minute of it. He’d poke, tease, say something he knew would get him in trouble, then grin because he knew we’d make up and move on. That was Ronnie. Crusty on the outside, soft as a marshmallow on the inside.
He built real relationships here. He helped anyone who needed it. He would’ve given you the shirt off his back without thinking twice. He loved dogs, fishing, working in his sister’s yard, riding motorcycles, loud music, and buying stereo equipment like it was a competitive sport. He could never find his glasses—probably went through a hundred pairs in just a few years. He told corny jokes, made people laugh, and somehow made even the most frustrating days feel lighter.
He cared deeply about the people in his life. Even when he was grumpy, even when he was stubborn, we always knew he loved us.
Ronnie—to say you will be missed is an understatement. I hope you’re pain‑free, fishing somewhere peaceful, telling bad jokes, and blasting music way too loud. Rest easy. We’ll take care of the hotel. Promise.