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. 

 

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.

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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!

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! 

Monica and Nick -With apologies for the impersonal nature of email, I wanted to write you both to express my sincerest condolences on Richard's passing.

I personally did not know Richard very well until I started travelling to California.  Even when I was exploring the move, and travelling solo, he was always welcoming and willing to offer companionship and food and drink.

And after we moved he, along with Monica, was a constant presence for our family.  By rough estimate, we probably shared upward of 400 meals during our tenure in California, most of them with just Toni, the kids that were around, Richard and Monica.  We often started the week with a Sunday night dinner at which Richard was more often than not a presence.

While some may recall, with varying degrees of admiration or horror, the boisterous political commentary that was often offered (sometimes I confess with instigation), or the flailing at ping pong, or the manning of the grill, my lasting memory is different.

Generally at least once per occasion, if not more, something would amuse him.  And the laughter would seem to emanate from his gut, and gradually, ever so slowly, spill out until you could  hear it echo through out the room, and even if whatever the spark was didn't strike someone else the same way, you couldn't help but smile along with that infectious laugh.  That laugh, and the good cheer that accompanied it (bursting through that sometimes present shield of cynicism) is what I remember.

We (and I speak for all the Reamers, but for the dogs) were fortunate to enjoy his companionship for the 15 years we were in LA.  I know that our Sundays have been less interesting the last two years.  We have missed his presence, and we now will continue to miss him.

I know how much he loved you both and how proud he was of you both.  I am so sorry for your loss.

With deepest condolences,

Dave

 Richard bought one of the first Ford Pinto's when his previous vehicle unexpectedly suffered a catastrophic failure. Not yet having a license, I was a chief beneficiary since he was a great friend and between The Statesman, various road trips, and demonstrations in DC, we spent countless hours together in that car, talking about everything the late sixty's had to offer. He even gave me driving lessons in this car. We both loved it, and its futuristic styling . Years later we laughed our asses off about our being totally blind to its being one of the most flawed vehicles in automotive history .  Love is blind, particularly when it takes you where you want to go ! 

 Richard was an important part of my life in those days, and his being a bit older than me, allowed him to occasionally play the role of the older brother I didn't have, but needed at times.   He will be greatly missed !