Ronald Daniel first made his grand entrance into this world on October 10th, 1936, in the fine, windblown state of Iowa, a land known for its corn, its wide-open spaces, and its singular ability to test a man’s endurance through both weather and monotony. He spent his formative years in Cameron, Missouri, where he distinguished himself as a high school athlete of no small repute—tossing footballs, shooting hoops, and running with such a determined gait that it was rumored he could outpace even the most determined tax collector. Upon completing his early education, Ronald took his boundless energy to Graceland College, a small but earnest institution tucked away in Southern Iowa, where he continued his pursuit of hurdling—both in sport and in life. His speed and agility earned him fifth place at the 1956 Drake Relays, a feat which, while not exactly legendary, was impressive enough to be mentioned in polite company.
A Scholar is Made
Deciding that a life of mere running could not satisfy his curiosity, Ronald packed up his ambitions and set his sights on California, where he acquired a wife, two children, and, at long last, a college degree from San Jose State University. He tried his hand at teaching high school—a noble, if underpaid endeavor—before receiving word that the esteemed University of Minnesota was willing to let him poke at microscopes and ponder the mysteries of Biology. He emerged some years later with a PhD in hand, a mind full of knowledge, and an ever-deepening suspicion that human beings were altogether stranger creatures than the ones he studied in his lab.
A Man of Science and Scandalous Subjects
In 1968, California Polytechnic University in Pomona lured Ronald into their ranks, recognizing in him both a keen scientific mind and a willingness to explain complex things to distracted undergraduates. He specialized in electron microscopy, a field that allowed him to examine the smallest of life’s details—an ironic pastime for a man whose personal adventures were anything but small. He was instrumental in establishing Cal Poly’s EM center, but what truly cemented his status among students was his audacious decision to teach the university’s first human sexuality course. The class became wildly popular, drawing both enthusiastic learners and scandalized whispers, proving once again that curiosity is a powerful thing—especially when it concerns the birds and the bees.
A Man of the Sea
Beyond the classroom, Ronald was a scuba diver of grand ambition, leading dive trips across the globe with a loyal cadre of friends. From the Great Barrier Reef to the Red Sea, from Fiji to Truk Lagoon, he explored the wonders of the deep, undeterred by sharks, strong currents, or the occasional malfunctioning oxygen tank. These excursions solidified his love for adventure, proving that while some men collect stamps, others swim with creatures that might eat them for lunch.
A Life Well-Lived
Ronald was married to Sharon, the woman who kept him anchored through fifty years of marriage, countless travels, and more than a few narrowly avoided disasters. Together, they celebrated the birth and boisterous existence of three grandchildren and six great-grandchildren, all of whom undoubtedly inherited a measure of his adventurous spirit. He is also survived by his son, Scott Daniel, and his two brothers, Randy and Michael. He is preceded in death by his first wife, Evelyn Fiske, and his daughter, Julie Daniel, both of whom, we suspect, will be waiting for him on the other side, possibly with a long list of questions. In the end, Ronald Daniel was a man who lived fully, learned constantly, and laughed heartily. He was a scientist, an adventurer, a teacher, and a mischief-maker, and the world is undoubtedly a little less interesting without him in it. Should anyone wish to honor him, they need not send flowers—a good story, a stiff drink, or a long dive into the unknown will do just fine.
