October 5, 2023
October 5, 2023
Richard was one of those special people: So good, so kind, so fun to be around. He was such a good husband and friend! I miss him, but I am sure that he has gone on to other great activities!
Monica, Arline, Nick and the whole of the Puz and Berndt families want to thank the many who have reached out to us during this time. Your love and friendship makes our pain a little easier to bear.
MEMORIALS & LIFE CELEBRATION EVENTS:
LOS ANGELES -- Sunday, April 10th, at 2 PM at the Herrick Chapel of Occidental College, 1600 Campus Road, Eagle Rock, California 90041. Open to all.
NEW YORK -- Sunday, April 10th, 1 PM Eastern: friends will gather at the Rattle n Hum, 14 East 33rd. Street, NYC, NY. Open to any friends and family who want to celebrate Rich.
DONATIONS:
In lieu of flowers, donations to honor Rich's life will go towards a scholarship fund at Stony Brook university of Long Island, NY, to the benefit of a student in need at the School of Journalism.
To donate:
1. Go to: https://alumniandfriends.stonybrook.edu/online-giving
2. Select: School of Journalism from the pull-down menu
3. Click the "TRIBUTE INFORMATION" link
4. Enter "Richard Puz" in the name field
Thank you!
Tributes
Leave a tribute
October 4, 2023
October 4, 2023
Celebrating you, Richard. Thankful you were born and lived and touched our lives.
October 4, 2022
October 4, 2022
October 4th... ice cream day ( a scoop of each chocolate mousse and raspberry) -- remembering you always, but especially on the day of your birth.
February 22, 2022
February 22, 2022
At six years from your exit of this physical dimension, you are not less present even if I am more distracted. I always love you, Richard Ricarrrrdo mio.
October 4, 2021
October 4, 2021
Richard was such a fine husband for my close friend, Monica. I am so glad they met and spent time together. He was so sweet with her, so charming, so obviously in love and not just when they first met but all the way to the end. I really liked him myself: He was witty and warm and handsome and a good sport about other people being into things he was not into. I did not remember it was his birthday but I thought of him in the past couple of days, which is wonderful, too. I think it indicates that his wife, Monica and I are in telepathic communication with one another.]
February 22, 2021
February 22, 2021
I always love you!
February 22, 2020
February 22, 2020
I can't believe Richard has been gone for 4 years!!! I have such good memories of him, especially of our trip through Europe with Monica, Roger and myself.
I miss his sense of humor, his honesty, and so many other aspects of his personality. I was always welcomed when I went to visit him and Monica in L.A. and had a fun time. Roger and I miss him.
I miss his sense of humor, his honesty, and so many other aspects of his personality. I was always welcomed when I went to visit him and Monica in L.A. and had a fun time. Roger and I miss him.
February 22, 2020
February 22, 2020
4 years have gone by but I still think of you everyday. sometimes I feel sad but sometimes I laugh. You would be crazed at the political environment of our country right now. You have made such a powerful mark on every life that you've touched. I aspire to do the same. Here's to moose tracks ice cream white Costco sneakers and a faded t-shirt.
February 22, 2020
February 22, 2020
You, who are behind the invisible door: you do know you left deep and beautiful tracks, don't you? We think of you always but on this day especially I raise a glass to your strength, kindness, humor, irreverence, intelligence and courage. So much to love about you, Richard!
October 4, 2019
October 4, 2019
I was thinking the other day about the obviously positive influence he had on his wife, Monica, who is a close friend. She looked more relaxed, she did a lot better in life generally, she seemed to be more stable than she had seemed to me to be before she married him. I am so glad they got together. I thank him for all he did for her and I miss him.
October 4, 2019
October 4, 2019
I. Miss. You.
February 22, 2019
February 22, 2019
I still find that when arguing the issues of the day, more often than not, I can still hear Rich's voice ! Never to be forgotten !
October 4, 2018
October 4, 2018
In considering the issues of the day, I still hear Richie’s voice, and his unique point of view.
I was very fortunate to have him as a
friend !
I was very fortunate to have him as a
friend !
October 4, 2018
October 4, 2018
On what would have been your 70th: glad you were born, dearest Richard. Glad or path crossed. We are all well -- we love and miss you.
February 22, 2018
February 22, 2018
Dear love, wonderful husband, best buddy -- your absence still stings deeply, your presence still lifts me up to gratitude. My days are sunny and full, and I'll always love you.
February 23, 2017
February 23, 2017
I loved the guy: What I saw was he is/was so sincerely and deeply good.
Monica is one of my best friends and he was a wonderful husband for her, making her happy and adding richness to her life.
Monica is one of my best friends and he was a wonderful husband for her, making her happy and adding richness to her life.
February 22, 2017
February 22, 2017
Hey Rich,
You wouldn't believe what a difference a year makes. The States have gone beserk! Say goodbye to the old boss, and hello to the new boss.
But what I wanna know is what kind of action is going on where you are.
Is there an angel union? Did you get issued wings and an invisible cape for meandering unseen on the earthy planet? Maybe the grub is better than just crackers and water, eh? When it's time to fold the wings do you bunk in a cathedral or a heavenly version of a mobile home park?
Hopefully not a cell block!
I bet you're going places, climbing the ladder, moving up the rank, maybe reached "right hand man" status. Never a dull moment wherever you are. <:
Yer pal,
Larry
You wouldn't believe what a difference a year makes. The States have gone beserk! Say goodbye to the old boss, and hello to the new boss.
But what I wanna know is what kind of action is going on where you are.
Is there an angel union? Did you get issued wings and an invisible cape for meandering unseen on the earthy planet? Maybe the grub is better than just crackers and water, eh? When it's time to fold the wings do you bunk in a cathedral or a heavenly version of a mobile home park?
Hopefully not a cell block!
I bet you're going places, climbing the ladder, moving up the rank, maybe reached "right hand man" status. Never a dull moment wherever you are. <:
Yer pal,
Larry
October 5, 2016
October 5, 2016
Happy Birthday Richard!
Let's hope Heaven knows a thing or two about birthday cakes and candles and ice cream. Found a good detective tv series from the 50's- Follow That Man, filmed in NY City. Nice. Get to prowl around the streets and take the ferry boat to Staten Island to meet a commie spy. Miss you, but never know might run into you as a passenger on the subway. Luv -L.
Let's hope Heaven knows a thing or two about birthday cakes and candles and ice cream. Found a good detective tv series from the 50's- Follow That Man, filmed in NY City. Nice. Get to prowl around the streets and take the ferry boat to Staten Island to meet a commie spy. Miss you, but never know might run into you as a passenger on the subway. Luv -L.
October 4, 2016
October 4, 2016
Love!
April 17, 2016
April 17, 2016
It's been a week since his beautiful memorial service. I still can't believe he is gone. I think it will really hit me when the whole family is sitting around the dining room table and we start to "talk". The amazing thing about my brother is that everyone describes him the same way. He was real. He was honest. He was passionate. He was intelligent. I think of him everyday. I will miss his spirit, his love and his presence.
April 11, 2016
April 11, 2016
AN OPEN LETTER TO MY HUSBAND, RICHARD
(This letter was read at the memorial service for Richard by his 3 sisters, given that my electronic voice does not project well.)
PART I
Here we are, your three sisters and I, at this event that none of us anticipated when we entered 2016. I have come up the isle wearing your favorite shoes: fifteen dollars white leather sneakers. From COSTCO. Not just to add a note of levity to this moment, but because they are a metaphor for the footsteps you left behind – marks on this earth that we’d do well to follow:
FIRSTLY, your ability to experience and express unrestrained mirth. And while I will not be able to laugh out loud with that deep, sincere, contagious laughter with which you lifted all our spirits, I will remember you when I look at things as utterly funny or joyous as you did.
SECONDLY, your deep kindness, that thoughtfulness and generosity which was as natural to you as breathing. It was reflected in many small and large every day gestures: from taking my car to the wash without saying a word and without expecting me to even notice, to standing by me and making me feel loved when life was harshest and beautiful when mauled by surgeries and interventions. And not just me: you were (you are) a truly honest-to-goodness good guy who helped so many!
AND FINALLY your courage and your honesty. You enjoyed a passionate argument but the heat of a debate did never lead you to personal attacks or low blows. It rather sharpened even more your already sharp mind so that as you banged the table with your fist, sputtering, perfectly coherent arguments flew out your mouth with volume and conviction. It was never an attack on the person, always on the issues. You did not hold back your opinions, and we all love you for that.
These imprints –and many others-- have become more visible by your physical absence. So, bear with me if I’m sad for a moment, just as I’m grateful.
PART II
You were born in the Bronx, New York, and spent your early years in a safe suburban neighborhood, in a time of innocence when grownups did not go catatonic if you played outside until dark, or rode the trains with friends, or delivered papers.
You were given the gift of an amazing mother, aunts that loved you, a tolerant grandmother and a grandfather that taught you to swear in Italian –and taught you as well what good giving and good helping was all about. Your father, John, gave you your first recorder and fed the sprout of the gizmo lover that you later became. And when your sisters came into the world you learned to be big brother and mom-helper, and you flexed the muscle of patience.
Your youth found you pondering “what is it all about? Who am I really and where are we all going?” but then LIFE got you and you were whisked into its carnival of upcoming attractions: of wars to protest, of funs to have and hills to conquer all rocked around by the exciting music of the 60’s. And you became a student, a reporter, an editor, a writer.
You fell in love, and out of it, and into it again. You married. And then your heart outside your heart was born when Nick came into the world in the late 70’s.
When you and I met, many years later, you were bouncing back from the break-up of your first family.
If anyone were to be tasked to pick two people out of a lineup and peg them as candidates for a happy future together, they would have never have selected us two:
- Me with my love for poetry – you thinking that that was, at best, flaky. If not pure hogwash
- Me focused on form – you insisting that it is all about function
- Me always at the brink or risks – you steady and strong and measured
And yet… and yet, we fit each other like pieces of a perfect cosmic puzzle. You made me cry less, I made you laugh more. You steadied my footing, I preened and primed your wings. And we became not just lovers, but each other’s best friends. Those 21 years since that September night when you walked up the stairs into one of my art salons and in my life have been the sweetest blessing: your arms have been my home.
PART III
So, what is it like so far, this life without you? Well…
• The tube of toothpaste lasts a lot longer
• I can sleep diagonally on the bed, if I want to
• And I no longer stock the fridge with things like Diet Pepsi and salami
But mostly, love, it is like being an amputee –for the time being.
And yet I know that I, too, am eternal and indestructible. Like you. And that I will be fine.
For just now, however, I hope you won’t chide me as being overly sentimental and whipping it all into “big drama”. You know I have already howled my silent scream at the February moon, when you were dying. I have since danced with your empty shirt by myself, in the empty house, to an Argentine tango. And I have let my tears streak my mascara down my face until I looked like a beaten up Marcel Marceau, before picking myself up by the scruff of the neck and sent myself packing.
So indulge me in one more moment of sadness until I again find my footing, knowing you are only out of sight, not out of being. I will be ok. More than ok. I promise.
You used to tell me that you lived a charmed life. I believe that life pays you back with the coin with which you invest in it. And you, dear love, endowed life with humor, with kindness and with courage. For all you gruff exterior and no-nonsense attitude, you lived honestly and generously – and are now rewarded with gratitude and friendship by the many you touched.
I shall always love you.
Your wife, Monica
(This letter was read at the memorial service for Richard by his 3 sisters, given that my electronic voice does not project well.)
PART I
Here we are, your three sisters and I, at this event that none of us anticipated when we entered 2016. I have come up the isle wearing your favorite shoes: fifteen dollars white leather sneakers. From COSTCO. Not just to add a note of levity to this moment, but because they are a metaphor for the footsteps you left behind – marks on this earth that we’d do well to follow:
FIRSTLY, your ability to experience and express unrestrained mirth. And while I will not be able to laugh out loud with that deep, sincere, contagious laughter with which you lifted all our spirits, I will remember you when I look at things as utterly funny or joyous as you did.
SECONDLY, your deep kindness, that thoughtfulness and generosity which was as natural to you as breathing. It was reflected in many small and large every day gestures: from taking my car to the wash without saying a word and without expecting me to even notice, to standing by me and making me feel loved when life was harshest and beautiful when mauled by surgeries and interventions. And not just me: you were (you are) a truly honest-to-goodness good guy who helped so many!
AND FINALLY your courage and your honesty. You enjoyed a passionate argument but the heat of a debate did never lead you to personal attacks or low blows. It rather sharpened even more your already sharp mind so that as you banged the table with your fist, sputtering, perfectly coherent arguments flew out your mouth with volume and conviction. It was never an attack on the person, always on the issues. You did not hold back your opinions, and we all love you for that.
These imprints –and many others-- have become more visible by your physical absence. So, bear with me if I’m sad for a moment, just as I’m grateful.
PART II
You were born in the Bronx, New York, and spent your early years in a safe suburban neighborhood, in a time of innocence when grownups did not go catatonic if you played outside until dark, or rode the trains with friends, or delivered papers.
You were given the gift of an amazing mother, aunts that loved you, a tolerant grandmother and a grandfather that taught you to swear in Italian –and taught you as well what good giving and good helping was all about. Your father, John, gave you your first recorder and fed the sprout of the gizmo lover that you later became. And when your sisters came into the world you learned to be big brother and mom-helper, and you flexed the muscle of patience.
Your youth found you pondering “what is it all about? Who am I really and where are we all going?” but then LIFE got you and you were whisked into its carnival of upcoming attractions: of wars to protest, of funs to have and hills to conquer all rocked around by the exciting music of the 60’s. And you became a student, a reporter, an editor, a writer.
You fell in love, and out of it, and into it again. You married. And then your heart outside your heart was born when Nick came into the world in the late 70’s.
When you and I met, many years later, you were bouncing back from the break-up of your first family.
If anyone were to be tasked to pick two people out of a lineup and peg them as candidates for a happy future together, they would have never have selected us two:
- Me with my love for poetry – you thinking that that was, at best, flaky. If not pure hogwash
- Me focused on form – you insisting that it is all about function
- Me always at the brink or risks – you steady and strong and measured
And yet… and yet, we fit each other like pieces of a perfect cosmic puzzle. You made me cry less, I made you laugh more. You steadied my footing, I preened and primed your wings. And we became not just lovers, but each other’s best friends. Those 21 years since that September night when you walked up the stairs into one of my art salons and in my life have been the sweetest blessing: your arms have been my home.
PART III
So, what is it like so far, this life without you? Well…
• The tube of toothpaste lasts a lot longer
• I can sleep diagonally on the bed, if I want to
• And I no longer stock the fridge with things like Diet Pepsi and salami
But mostly, love, it is like being an amputee –for the time being.
And yet I know that I, too, am eternal and indestructible. Like you. And that I will be fine.
For just now, however, I hope you won’t chide me as being overly sentimental and whipping it all into “big drama”. You know I have already howled my silent scream at the February moon, when you were dying. I have since danced with your empty shirt by myself, in the empty house, to an Argentine tango. And I have let my tears streak my mascara down my face until I looked like a beaten up Marcel Marceau, before picking myself up by the scruff of the neck and sent myself packing.
So indulge me in one more moment of sadness until I again find my footing, knowing you are only out of sight, not out of being. I will be ok. More than ok. I promise.
You used to tell me that you lived a charmed life. I believe that life pays you back with the coin with which you invest in it. And you, dear love, endowed life with humor, with kindness and with courage. For all you gruff exterior and no-nonsense attitude, you lived honestly and generously – and are now rewarded with gratitude and friendship by the many you touched.
I shall always love you.
Your wife, Monica
April 9, 2016
April 9, 2016
Three cheers for Richard!
Great neighbor, great friend, great BBQ chef, letting me hang out with him at book fairs, campaign for local and national politicos, cycle around town when the streets were closed to cars, being a counsel when I needed someone to listen. My favorite times are closer to home, in the backyard garden, helping as neighbors do, dig, rake, or plant. So to Richard, three cheers!
Great neighbor, great friend, great BBQ chef, letting me hang out with him at book fairs, campaign for local and national politicos, cycle around town when the streets were closed to cars, being a counsel when I needed someone to listen. My favorite times are closer to home, in the backyard garden, helping as neighbors do, dig, rake, or plant. So to Richard, three cheers!
April 7, 2016
April 7, 2016
Richard was such a deeply and sincerely good person. He cared about people and situations in the world because that is how he was, rather than because he thought he ought to be that way because someone told him to. He was intelligent, witty, fun loving, energetic and so very alive. Monica, his wife, is a close friend, and I so appreciated the way he took such good care of her!
I miss him!
I miss him!
April 7, 2016
April 7, 2016
I miss Richard! He was one of the most authentic people I have ever met! Monica, Richard and I shared many fun times together...he had a gift of making people feel comfortable because he was sooo comfortable in his own skin. I loved his laughter and the way he never held anything inside: I never had to guess what he was thinking or feeling, which is rather refreshing in this world of political correctness!
I will be forever thankful to Richard for the way he enriched my life and for the way he loved and supported my dear friend Monica. I am so glad I met you!
I will be forever thankful to Richard for the way he enriched my life and for the way he loved and supported my dear friend Monica. I am so glad I met you!
April 6, 2016
April 6, 2016
I have sadly been out of touch with Richard since the mid-90's. I remember though when I first showed up in S. California in '81 - I was the boyfriend of Susan's mentor's daughter. Yet he befriended both of us immediately. We enjoyed many evenings with the 3 of them catching a buzz (well Nick not so much) swimming, playing cards or watching HBO. I was saddened to hear of his passing but heartened to read he had led a meaningful life full of love these past years. Condolences to Nick & family, Susan & family as well as Moniki & family whom I did not know.
Ed Krimmer
Ed Krimmer
April 5, 2016
April 5, 2016
Rich was such a sweet and funny man - he was always cool, classy and full of great ideas. His friendship was very much appreciated and will be missed.
April 5, 2016
April 5, 2016
Richard had a biiiig heart, and his idealism did not seem to match his age. I guess that fit well with his party affiliation. Although I tried a few times, I was not match when his Italian temper boiled to the surface. I think that after his heart attack, he missed my offending words, but he knew I held back with the excuse of not giving him another heart attack. Richard was a very very kind man, thinking the world can be made a better place. He's very much missed.
Leave a Tribute
Recent Tributes
October 5, 2023
October 5, 2023
Richard was one of those special people: So good, so kind, so fun to be around. He was such a good husband and friend! I miss him, but I am sure that he has gone on to other great activities!
October 4, 2023
October 4, 2023
Celebrating you, Richard. Thankful you were born and lived and touched our lives.
October 4, 2022
October 4, 2022
October 4th... ice cream day ( a scoop of each chocolate mousse and raspberry) -- remembering you always, but especially on the day of your birth.
Gallery
On our Indiana Jones honeymoon, shaking through the rutted dirt roads of the Yucatan on a rented Jee
October 2014 -- jetlagged, tired, but happy in Toledo, Spain. Salud! On your 70th, Rich.
2012-10 (15)
Poster 10x14-T
1988-RJ
1988-RA-cooking
1979-RNBG-NY
1979-RNPittsburgh
Recent stories
Birthday
October 4, 2016
When I met Richard he was 45, turning 46 a few weeks after. We were too new at the game of dating for me to do anything super-special, so the first birthday I remember "celebrating" was the year after. I had been without work for a couple of months, and my party budget was (to say the least) rather paltry. Yet we had the sweetest of times because we had each other: I had him meet me after work and we climbed up one of the Griffith Park trails, with a picnic basket. And we ate, watched the sun set and talked until the stars came out. Holding hands and kissing was also part of the occasion, but mostly I remember the tenderness of true companionship.
Since that time, every October 4th has been a special ocasion to bring together his friends and our families and to mark the new ring on the tree of his life. Even today, as I feel deeply the sting of loss, I'm so very grateful to have met him and that we walked together down this road, my dearest love.
April 11, 2016
Met Rich 30 years ago. Didn’t know it, but looking back, turns out we, pretty much, grew up together.
Over those 30 years, he always looked the same. Didn’t know he got old til saw all the pictures. Guess that happens.
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Remember first time I met Rich. Smoking like a chimney, leaned over a typewriter – yep typewriter, didn’t have those computers quite yet.
He looked up. Growled at me, he always kinda had a growl, and his fuzzy hair, thick back then before it mostly fell out, he really was bear like.
And aggressive, and loud. Oh, and opinionated. Man, he had an opinion about everything. Course so did I. Why we got along -- our bond.
Fortunately I was always right and he was necessarily wrong. He wouldn’t agree with that, but I have the last word, here, so -- there it is.
Frankly, he reminded me of a real journalist -- he’d probably like that. I mean here we were working for the man, a big corporation, but Rich still fashioned himself a muckraking journalist, and he was too, a real Jimmy Breslin like character. Loud, brusque, opinionated, and always right. And a great writer.
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Yep, a bear… but a teddy bear… because behind that rough “effin” exterior was an understanding, soft and kindly gentleman.
That’s why Monica and Rich got along. She knew him, and he was endearing, really could be endearing.
A lot of people said, “I don’t get how Rich and Monica got together”, they seem so different. But it isn’t the outside that makes the person, it’s the inside, and Rich and Monica connected deeply. She saw the real him. She knew him, inside….and out.
And, as an aside, I always found it refreshing and endearing to see them argue or disagree, but not be phased by their differences, and connect on the commonalities that really matter. He could always think he was right, and she could let him be that, knowing he was wrong. It’s a good formula for marriage.
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One of the things we all know about Rich was has affinity for the f word, and the bs word and the gd word, and any word that was on the Lenny Bruce “can’t say it list”. Man he liked those words. Me too.
But the thing was, Rich used them all the time, in the workplace, and later with clients, and they had shock value, for sure. Sometimes I thought this was OK and I used them too. But I never seemed to get away with it like Rich did. I just wasn’t him.
Frankly the best times with Rich was just him and me riffing on some political topic in the news with an effin this and a gd that and a scum sucking pig conclusion, and righteous indignation -- which made the world fine with us, even if everything else was going down the tubes…
That’s what I always like about Rich in the end, his “optimistic” and “agreeable” nature.
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When someone dies, you wonder about life, their life, your life, were they happy?
Rich was happy. He smiled on his son, and he marveled at the fact that he had grandchildren. And while he may have struggled through the daily routine of life as we all do, he was fulfilled: Monica, and his family did that for him.
I never thought of Rich as a family man. But he was. Here you all are.
----------------------------------
Rich and I agreed on one thing, somewhat at issue, right here, in this place where we gather.
And that was pretty much at the end of the day it was ashes to ashes and dust to dust. What mattered is what you did, and what lives on, long after you’re gone, cuz, “this is it’, man.
And Monica would argue with him on this. Again, how did those two get together! She comes from a strong religious heritage, and her spirituality was a bit beyond for Rich. And I knew, cuz Rich would look at me, roll his eyes, and I’d roll mine, cuz we were simpatico, and our girls were just being silly…
But Rich was accepting, and Monica was accepting. Yet they had different perspectives.
Sadly on this one, I’ve tended to agree with Rich. But you’ll recall from my earlier words, that Rich was always wrong, so there we go. Sure hope he’s wrong on this one too!
Clearly he lives on – Nick, his grandkids, his wife, both their families, all of you, me blathering, here we are! Thank you Rich!
April 6, 2016
I got to know Rich when we both worked at the gas company in the 1980s. I have to admit I was initially intimidated by him. He was a smart, gifted writer and so self-assured. I was just out of college and learning the ropes. Over time, I realized he was a big teddy bear inside the gruff exterior.
In our workgroup, we used to call each other by our last names. I called him Puz and he called me Cho-Cho (I guess he liked saying my name twice), although at times, I called him Puzzy Bear (but never to his face). As the years went on, I often relied on his advice and input and he was always so generous with him time.
I left the gas company in the late 1990s and he left a few years later, but through a former gas company colleague, we began collaborating on various projects. I’m so glad we re-connected and worked together right up until he became ill.
Throughout the years, I heard about his wonderful and growing family and exciting travels. I will miss his colorful language and saying “Hi Cho-Cho!” Rest in peace, Puz – you will be missed!