He’s a clown and if you never saw him embellish himself as Emmett Kelly and witness his bantering about on a St. Patty’s Day Parade or take an impish delight in the ease of his devilish playfulness with his grandkids you’re missing pure joy!
You wonder how he’s lived so long with a heart as big as his, because you know he’s surely made it exert double duty for all these years. But God must have given him a heart way beyond its normal capacity. And yet, now it is this very heart that struggles, it labors under the weight of his generosity. The very notion of what Rich’ heart was meant to do, confronts the infection that impales him.
To see him lying in his hospital bed is such a disparate sight; wired like the inside of a computer. Tubes flowing here, monitor lines running like rush hour on 64, more CRT’s than on the show room floor at Best Buy. This is not how Rich should be seen. He should be sitting in his barcalounger with little CeCe and Kuper on his lap with his ever faithful “King” at his side, bantering with his bride Delores. Surely he’d rather be navigating a cross cut at Steinberg gliding through the defenders eyeing the goalie or, deciding which club to use on the 12th at Tee-Up, or encouraging one of his many grand kids to slide as they turn the corner heading towards home plate,
Guys like him are icons.. They don’t make them like him anymore. And being an icon, like all God’s creatures, he’s here on loan from God; to bless us with his presence for whatever time God will give us. God has loaned him 84 years, 62 of them with his love, his passion, his bride. We should all be given a blessing like that.
So, as I look to the heavens, I say these words with respect, with devotion, as prayer, “Let him live”.
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