Rich wrote those words in a scrapbook sixty years ago, not knowing the life that lay ahead of him and how many lives he will have touched by the time he was done.
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Uncle Richie was a man of few words but many actions. Every sentence he spoke carried weight because he always took a moment to think before answering, even when it was a simple yes or no. I often found myself paying attention to his expressions and body language because even the smallest shift in his face said so much.
One Thanksgiving stands out in my memory. Our family gathered at his house to celebrate, but his kids couldn’t make it that year. I could sense he felt a little down. When I asked how his kids were doing, his whole face lit up. He talked about Mike and his love for photography and travel, Sam and her work in graphic design and her dog, and Kat’s studies in psychology. He was so happy that his kids found what they love, whether it was in their careers, their hobbies, or the people they chose to share their lives with. You could feel how proud he was of them in every word he said.
Then there was one summer Sunday I’ll never forget. I was helping Aunt Ruby make Italian pasta for dinner when Uncle Richie came home. The moment he saw her, his whole demeanor changed. He quietly sneaked up, motioned for me to stay quiet, and wrapped his arms around her out of nowhere. Aunt Ruby jumped and he burst out laughing, a deep joyful laugh that filled the room. He kissed her cheek, winked at me, and casually walked to his desk like nothing had happened. In that moment, I got to see a side of him few people did—the playful spirit hidden beneath his calm steady exterior.
He also had a way of offering advice that stuck with you. I remember telling him about my struggles in graduate school and how I had to shift my dream from becoming a veterinarian to pursuing a career in laboratory research. He looked at me and said, “No matter what obstacles are being put in front of you, you can find a way around them and remember to enjoy the journey there. You can do it.” I still carry those words with me.
Another thing that always meant a lot to me was how he kept in touch by writing letters for our birthdays. I loved each one because it showed how much he cared. Instead of sending a quick text or email, he took the time to sit down and write, and you could feel his thoughtfulness in every word.
Those moments will always stay with me. Uncle Richie taught me that love doesn’t always need grand gestures or many words—it lives in the small pauses, the thoughtful glances, the handwritten notes, and the quiet acts of care that speak louder than anything else.
One Thanksgiving stands out in my memory. Our family gathered at his house to celebrate, but his kids couldn’t make it that year. I could sense he felt a little down. When I asked how his kids were doing, his whole face lit up. He talked about Mike and his love for photography and travel, Sam and her work in graphic design and her dog, and Kat’s studies in psychology. He was so happy that his kids found what they love, whether it was in their careers, their hobbies, or the people they chose to share their lives with. You could feel how proud he was of them in every word he said.
Then there was one summer Sunday I’ll never forget. I was helping Aunt Ruby make Italian pasta for dinner when Uncle Richie came home. The moment he saw her, his whole demeanor changed. He quietly sneaked up, motioned for me to stay quiet, and wrapped his arms around her out of nowhere. Aunt Ruby jumped and he burst out laughing, a deep joyful laugh that filled the room. He kissed her cheek, winked at me, and casually walked to his desk like nothing had happened. In that moment, I got to see a side of him few people did—the playful spirit hidden beneath his calm steady exterior.
He also had a way of offering advice that stuck with you. I remember telling him about my struggles in graduate school and how I had to shift my dream from becoming a veterinarian to pursuing a career in laboratory research. He looked at me and said, “No matter what obstacles are being put in front of you, you can find a way around them and remember to enjoy the journey there. You can do it.” I still carry those words with me.
Another thing that always meant a lot to me was how he kept in touch by writing letters for our birthdays. I loved each one because it showed how much he cared. Instead of sending a quick text or email, he took the time to sit down and write, and you could feel his thoughtfulness in every word.
Those moments will always stay with me. Uncle Richie taught me that love doesn’t always need grand gestures or many words—it lives in the small pauses, the thoughtful glances, the handwritten notes, and the quiet acts of care that speak louder than anything else.