Preamble

Last Update: 1/30/2006

Rick was my oldest and best friend. These are ramblings that might someday lead to a fully coherent version. I make additions from time to time.

Rick in a Nutshell

One day while fishing with his buddy Gress off of the dam in Elmira, home of the mighty Chemung River, Rick hooked into and landed a very nice large rainbow trout. He held it up proudly and broke into his famous "Mr. Fish" song. It goes "EM ARR PERIOD ... EFF EYE ESS ... AY,AY,AY,AY,ACHE" to the tune of the Mickey Mouse song. Gress looked on in amazement. "I didn't know there were any trout in this river!" Rick replied cooly, "There was: One!"

Referring to himself as "the perfect man," Rick made people laugh. He ascribed to himself "powers far beyond those of mere mortal men." With folksy humor and manner-of-fact charm, Rick could disarm complete strangers, man or woman in a matter of a few minutes of friendly, spirited conversation that could take place anywhere. The stranger may not have known quite what to make of Rick, but usually came away with a sense of a likeable, interesting, engaging, and authentic person who could listen probably even better than he could talk. With tough, rawboned good looks and a self-deprecating clumbsy demeanor (he acted dumb sometimes, but it was mostly an act), he won and warmed the hearts of people and made many life-long friendships.

Rick would sometimes go way out to do a favor for a friend, and in return he expected the same kind of loyalty from them. He didn't always receive it. He would definitely let you if you let him down, and if his disappointment was great, then you would never hear the end of it.

Rick was "Stubborn as an Ox." He inherited his direct, stubborn side from his father Reino, who came over to the USA from Finland. His Irish-American mom Teresa is the sweet diplomatic type. Rick loved to argue a point and win, and naturally he hated to lose an argument. He rarely lost one because he would never make a concession. He'd outlast you with a battery of confounding and altogether hypothetical ideas. The most heated debates that I have ever had been dragged into or have witnessed were with Richard. He could convince you that 2+2=5, or at least convince you that he damn well knew it was 5 and that you were a fool to think otherwise!

Rick's favorite book was "Sometimes a Great Notion" by Ken Kesey. In it, a stubborn old man lives the motto "Never give a Inch!" That resonated with Rick. A word that defined a theme running through Rick's life was the Finnish word "SISU" which translates to something akin to "Walk through a stone wall." One thing is for sure: "SISU" was in Rick. That was evident during his long fight with brain cancer. He was a scrapper, never a quitter.

He loved the high-school sports he played: Wrestling and Football. Rick was a defensive tackle for the undefeated 1972 Southside High School Green Hornets in his senior year. He retained the love of both sports throughout his life. He faithfully attended the SHS-EFA "Erie Bell" game in Elmira, and he usually attended the NY State High School wrestling tournament in Syracuse. During his wrestling career at SHS, Rick placed second in the state of NY in that tournament.

During and after High School, Rick played the part of the two-fisted drinkin' tough guy. He was tough, but at the same time, he studied religion and Eastern cultures looking for that "something" that was missing. He read voraciously. Later in life, he became kind of a hippie. He renounced violence. He dreamed of a world where people live together in harmony, and he regretted mean things that he did in his tough-guy era. He was also against repressive laws and overly-strict government.

More than most people, Richard stayed in touch with his high-school friends. I think that this is true for a lot of high-school atheletes. Getting together to talk about the glory days over a beer is a strong draw. Plus, he just liked being around people. Many people disconnect from old hometown friends after growing up and moving away.

He joined the Navy shortly after high school, signing up with his buddy Tommy. Rick was stationed in San Diego on a helicopter carrier, the U.S.S. Tarawa. This was during the post-Vietnam era and before the Muslim insane people. He served his country proudly and was honorably discharged. Rick brough home plenty of good stories about his time in the Navy and about San Diego and his life in California. There were others about liberty in Tijuana and New Orleans too.

Rick became guard at an upstate facility for delinquent young women. He transitioned from that into being a counselor. He moved to the tiny town of King Ferry on the east shore of Cayuga Lake. Rick loved his work and developed many deep friendships with coworkers and people in the rural area. On the job, he was good at helping "the ones who can be helped." He had a natural talent for the rehabilitation of young minds. He could make them look at things in alternative ways. Later, he attended night school and became a vocational teacher at a nearby delinquent boy's facility. Richard was liked and admired by most at both facilities.

Richard and I developed our love of music together: I turned him on to the Doors, and he introduced me to Bob Dylan. We both dug the Beatles. He paid close attention to the lyrics of songs and back then, I liked the instrumentals. He liked folk singers like John Prine. I liked synthesizers and heavy metal guitar riffs. We made many trips to the music store for new 33 1/3 RPM albums, and yes, even a few 45's. Rick had a portable record player: the Ipod of our era. We'd camp out in the back yard or "behind the Mayflower" (a shipping company) playing vinyl albums as the dew settled and the mosquitoes bit. We'd joke and eat junk food and Rick would explain the lyrics that I didn't really care about very much.

We would sometimes stay up half the night walking the streets of Elmira or hanging out down by the river where people fished by the light of Coleman lanterns. As we approached adolescence and our circle of nighttime friends grew, we sometimes got loud and rowdy and sometimes chased by the cops. It was harmless fun for the most part, the kind of trouble that kids used to get into before hip-hop and gangsta rap and guns and the rest of today's crap. Just a little excitement where nobody gets hurt.

Rick played the accordian in his early youth. He hated to practice, but was proud to play a song or two for friends. His big thick fingers flew dexterously over the accordian keys and buttons. He was good. Unfortunately, accordian was not cool back then. It was the late 60's early 70's. Guitars and drums were in, so he dropped accordian. Then, in the 90's accordian suddenly became cool again and he regretted not staying with it. He relearned the accordian later in life.

From about age 16 I owned motorcycles. Richard smashed up my nice new Honda CB500 with extended forks. He talked me into letting him ride it at a keg party. Yes, it was a stupid move on my part! A buddy of his jumped on the back and away they went - turned a corner, missed the turn and jumped the sidewalk. I watched him get back on the road and speed away with Danny hootin' and hollerin' on back. I had an uneasy feeling about the situation.

About a mile away he and Danny crashed into a clump of small trees and brush. They had only minor scrapes and cuts, but the bike's forks and headlight were bent at a sickening angle. He was able to get it started, but on his way back missed another turn and crashed into the side of a house. Danny jumped off and ran straight home. He was OK, but he had enough for one night. I finally got the bike back and it was a mess. I was mad at him for a long time afterward, but you might say that I had it coming.

Like brothers, were often mean to each other. He used to practice wrestling holds on me and other friends and damn near tore my arm off. I got in a fight with him and threw a size 13 Converse sneaker at him and hit him in the nuts. On a campout, he slingshotted peanut M&M's at me. I turned on him and hit him in the knee with a rock. He locked me nearly naked out in the snow after a sauna. I sprayed lemon Pledge on a lightbulb and he blew on it and it exploded onto his bare chest. Once I taught him to make a science project called a Carbon Arc and it burnt out the wiring in his father's new house. Sometime later, he smashed my motorcycle. It was tit for tat like that for many years. We'd get mad but we would never stay mad at each other.

Toward the end of his less than 50 years, Rick said to me "I've had a good run. I've had many friends and lovers, a lot of amazing experiences, and if I died today, I'd have no regrets." He was married twice to two lovely ladies, and had no children.