Some of us were at BroDown last month.  Ricky's presence was both felt, and missed.

We jammed out on the first night, in unspoken tribute to Ricky.  Everything worked fine. But on the second night, when we went to go jam again, my guitar was broken.  We tried everything, simplifying my rig, different cables, different amps... It simply would not make a sound.  The connection was bad, all of a sudden.  I've been playing guitar for over 30 years, and that has never happened to me before.

I was about to dust off my acoustic but Colin suggested... Maybe I could play Rick's bass?  I immediately knew that was the right call.  I haven't really played bass since college, but I was psyched to try it. 

The jams over the next few days were killer.  Rick's presence was felt the whole time, even more than the first night, because there was his bass right in the middle of everything. I played it the rest of the trip... and discovered, shoot, I love playing bass.  I have a long way to go 'til I can slap like a boss, but it was super fun.  Colin suggested I take it home and take a shift with it.  So I did...

My guitar amp couldn't hang with the bass tones so I got a little practice amp for it, and have been down there raging like every day.  Jenn came down 3 times in the first hour to tell me to turn it down, she could hear me down the block walking the dog, it was shaking the house etc.  I was just like, "What?!? I can't hear you over this bass!"

Part of me thinks  Ricky reached out into the cosmos to break my guitar so I'd play his bass.  If not, that's one heck of a coincidence.

Hello my wonderful son.  It's been a year.  Part of me went with you. I hope you feel my love for you. There hasn't been one minute, hour or day that I don't miss you, talk to you, and long for your presence.  You live in my heart. Time will never change that.  You are and will forever be my precocious little boy, my defiant teenager, my beautiful son.  You are loved more than there are stars in all the universes and missed deeper than the deepest parts of the oceans.  
I LOVE YOU RICKY ... Mom

The year was 2012 and we were out on the town in NYC.  Rick spotted this piano behind a rope and his eyes lit up.  He paced back and forth a few times staring at the piano like a lion and its prey.  He just kept muttering "that instrument was meant to be played".  Hopped the rope and went to town.  Blew me away.

Ricky was about ten years old when we took a family vacation to D.C.
We did the usual Smithsonian experiences, the FBI building, and watched a production of 'Godspell" at Ford's Theater where President Lincoln was assassinated .
During intermission, we walked out of the theatre for a short break.
Ricky noticed an apparently homeless man rummaging through the trash for food.Ricky had never been exposed to homeless people, He asked me to explain why people needed to scrounge through trash cans for food. I explained it as best as I could. He was sad and shocked. He remembered this encounter his entire life, reminding me after decades.

When Ricky was 4 years old he asked me where lettuce came from.  I told him from seeds you plant and it would grow into lettuce.  Of course, he had to grow lettuce.  We purchased lettuce and radish seeds.  We dug a very small 3' X 3' square in our back yard.  Digging in the dirt was fun for both of us.  I wasn't sure anything would actually grow.  Lo and Behold within weeks we saw sprouts.  He watched each day to see if anything was fully grown.  When it was time for him to pull the radishes and dig up the lettuce, it was like Christmas. The joy on his face when he pulled that first radish was priceless.  He beamed!!! When he washed it and ate it .... well, you'd never thought he'd ever eaten a radish before.  He thought himself an accomplished vegetable gardener, and he was.  

Sophomore year of college, Rick and I both lived on the first floor Phi Kappa Psi fraternity house. Like any other fraternity room, Rick's room contained a bed, desk, a few couches and a coffee table.  What was unique was that Rick had a two foot tall pile of clothing in the corner of his room.  This wasn't a dirty laundry pile of underwear and socks but a collection of outerwear including but not limited to pants, long sleeve shirts, and flannels. 
It's cleanliness was always in question which bred opportunity.  Rick's room was one of the largest on the first floor and, therefore, was always lively during parties to the point of being standing room only. Luckily for me and those others lacking dignity, we realized that this pile of clothes was one of the best places to sit, right in the middle of the action and always available.         
Thanks Rick for always saving me a seat.

Our son, Ricky, would have celebrated his 44th birthday tomorrow. We've heard so many stories about Ricky's talent to connect with others.  Here's one more story.
Years ago we met Ricky in NYC for a short vacation. Cyrus Chestnut was performing at a jazz venue and we managed to get a table close to the stage. At intermission, Ricky walked up to the stage and introduced himself to the bass player. They talked until Cyrus returned to the piano.The bass player introduced Ricky to Cyrus and the three of them talked until it was time to begin the next set.  At the end of the performance, Cyrus and his bass player walked down to our table and shook Ricky's hand. Just like they were new friends.

So many great memories of Rick, particularly from the Hopkins/Tube days, but one of my first memories of Rick was noticing that we each owned the same sweatshirt. It was a textured, grey sweatshirt from the Gap. I bought mine freshman year at the Inner Harbor. Rick was a year behind me in school, so when I saw him wearing it one day on campus, I was like, "Hey, same sweatshirt!" "Cool!" I think he said, nodding in approval and smiling. I loved that sweatshirt and wore it all the time. Apparently, Rick liked it too. And so did Colin. For some reason, they shared the sweatshirt. I don't know how they worked out whose turn it was to wear it or why they shared it--maybe they bought it together--but they would interchangeably be seen wearing it for much of our college years. I actually still had mine until about a year ago. It had become so threadbare, with the sleeves slowly deteriorating, that I finally let it go. I kinda wish I had kept it now, at least what was left of it.

David and I had our wedding at the American Visionary Art Museum, the reception was held at an empty part of the museum called the 'barn'. It held no art work except for Fifi, a very large pink poodle kinetic sculpture, and Fifi was 'safely' chained to a cement block on the floor hidden in a corner. You know it was only a matter of time before Rick and John somehow freed Fifi and took her for a joy ride. David and I went back to the barn for our first anniversary and noticed that Fifi is now high up in the ceiling beams, away from enterprising wedding guests.

After the wedding comes babies, so I am duly pregnant with my first child and attend a holiday party with all my cool single friends. Rick must have noticed my self consciousness and told me I looked like "the kind of women that men would kill other men and drag back to their cave", basically threatening to kill the father of my unborn child and kidnap me. I felt beautiful the rest of that night. Thank you, sweet heart.

Rick was super smart and athletic, he was in all the advance classes, same time, a tri-varsity athlete, and was captain of varsity baseball senior year. What also stood out was how he befriended everybody, from the jocks, studious ones, laid back people, musicians, artists, etc, when at time teenagers are somewhat insecure, and away from home. This was Dan's observation a few weeks ago to which I 100% agree. Rick was chosen student council, which is a class vote, and evidence of his popularity.
Rick was smart but he never really studied, I think Dan would agree that when we were roommates senior year, we never saw him studying, and he'd be the first one to sleep, sometimes with the lights on. Most nights we'd put on the Enigma CD to fall asleep. The picture with Rick studying, was taken to send to Rick's parents (sorry it took 25 years), but seconds later, he was laughing with pens and pencils in his nose and ears.
Many memories, baseball, spring training in St. Petersburg Florida was a blast, during the season, Rick was a great pitcher, threw very hard. I hated how he'd throw very hard during warm up, and my hand would hurt. He was very competitive. He taught me how to throw a good change up, which consisted of a loud grunt while releasing the ball so the batter thinks a hard pitch is coming.
Jokes and pranks were part of our lives then, he'd put a small piece of napkin on his face in the dining hall during a meal, people would point out, and he'd act like he can't find it and act upset. I will leave the library prank for someone else with better writing skills, but my part was the look out where a faculty entered the building at 3am in the morning. Sorry coach, but my favorite was when Rick posted a fake list for varsity baseball tryout, and we watched people's reaction. And I heard recently, he was launching water balloons at the crew team in the river.
More memories will come back, and hope to put up more in time, I think preparing for the graduation party at the barn in Nick Bauta's house was fun. While Nick ran for errands, Rick, Dan and I thought we'd write all over the white wall, to find Nick upset (and arguably he had every reason), and we spent the whole day repainting the walls. Some of the pictures are from that day.
I'm not sure sure how to end this story, but I will leave it here in hopes that other Kent classmates will add on, as we all have different memories of times with Rick, and I too want to hear more.
Mo

Rick's parents shared the story of Sparky, Rick's dog, with me.

When Rick was 7 or 8, they were living in Oklahoma City and Rick asked his folks for a dog, as many young boys do.  Rick and his father drove out to Tulsa, over 2 hours away, to pick out a boxer puppy.  When they finally arrived, Rick took one look at the litter of puppies and said "I don't want any of them". 

His dad took him aside to talk to him, and one puppy followed them.  He said "Ricky, we're here because you asked for a dog, son. Just pick one."  So he turned around and pointed to the one that followed them and said "that one".  They took the pup home and Rick decided on the name Sparky.  He was his faithful companion for 8 years.

Our family set out on an ambitious quest to see all of the baseball parks, and in the second year we hit Fenway Park, the home of the Boston Red Sox.  We made the trip with my dad, and Rick joined us.  We met for dinner beforehand at the Cask and Flagon.  It was the first time Rick and my two young sons met.  They were so excited to meet a real scientist, and proceeded to start asking questions to see how smart he was.  I assured them that Rick was very smart, but still, they persisted.  They asked him some real tough ones, like who was the first president.  Rick was up to the task and handled their rapid fire quizzing with ease and panache.  So they brought out the big guns, and my younger son asked him "What's 100+100?", thinking surely they had him out-witted now.  Without missing a beat and with his trademarked grin, Rick replied "200".  My sons were in awe, and promptly dubbed him "Rick the Genius!"... a nickname that stuck ever since.  We had a great time that night, celebrating friends, family, summer and a Red Sox win, and I always appreciated Rick humoring the boys and being so great with them.  Here's a video of us singing Sweet Caroline during the 7th inning stretch... good times never seemed so good.