ROMEOS, wherefore art thou ROMEOS.
The answer is not tragic — it’s affectionate.
And if you ask Bob Aronson, the ROMEOS — Really Old Men Enjoying Odd Sports — exists as a sort of male alternative to the Red Hat Society.
“Women have the Red Hat Society as an excuse to get together,” Aronson said. “Guys needed a counterpart group.”
The ROMEOS are a group of 10 elder men who faithfully meet every Wednesday at Rossmoor Park to chew the fat and play horseshoes. And next week, the group of mostly 70- and 80-year-olds will celebrate their unofficial 12th anniversary and to make Vietnam veteran Steve Pennington, a Long Beach resident who has played horseshoes with the group a few times, an official ROMEO.
“Steve is a good friend of the ROMEOS,” Aronson said.
This isn’t the first time Aronson’s friends have flexed their wannabe Red Hat muscles. A precursor to the ROMEOS group was the Hard Hat Brotherhood. The highlight of the group’s existence was an entry in the annual Pasadena Doo Dah Parade.
The parade is a parody of the Rose Parade and entries have fun doing silly marches. The group, who invited the Red Hats to join in, marched in formation and carried, according to Aronson, “A big sign with something about testosterone.”
The Hard Hat Brotherhood disbanded shortly after that.
Romeos say they are looking for friendship — some human contact.
“We need the comradery,” Aronson said, “for our mental and physical well-being as we age.”
The origin story for the ROMEOS, Aronson said, begins with boredom at a concert.
Marv Glickman, 89, and Bob Wallis, 92 years old and a ROMEOS founder, met shortly after the former had just moved from Chicago to Long Beach with his wife, Lory, who has since died.
They and Aronson went to a concert in the park one day. But Aronson and Glickman got bored.
“We were all at a concert in the park and Marv and I got bored,” Aronson said. “So, we started throwing a baseball.”
Then, Aronson said, he asked Glickman to play horseshoes.
Glickman agreed — despite never having played the game.
“We became good friends,” Aronson said. “We enjoyed each other’s company. Little by little over 8 years, the group grew slowly as more men joined and more friendships developed — something we might not have done without horseshoes. This brought us together socially — something would have not had otherwise. We would go out to dinner with our wives and travel together.”
Playing horseshoes, at first, was almost an excuse, Glickman said, but each week, group members developed more skill.
“Over the years, we all have become better players and have become competitive,” he said. “There are no awards or prizes — just bragging rights. Horseshoes is no different than any other sport. It’s not in the Olympics. But it should be.”
One day, Aronson said, a regular player named Ron Banner bought and distributed embroidered hats for the entire group. The hats bore a name: ROMEOS.
That, Aronson said, “seemed to solidify permanent acceptance.”
The members agree that all the players, past and present, had no, limited, or some knowledge of the game — but there were no experts. Almost all were invited to play and stayed regardless of skill level. There are no practices or constant teams.
Those who show up, in fact, get randomly put on teams.
“Most of the players go to lunch following the games, where winners and scores are mostly forgotten,” Aronson said. “Conversation then turns to other non-playing matters such as sports, politics, social and travel activity, etc.”
So, for these ROMEOS, horseshoes bring more than good luck. They bring lifelong friendships.
