The age of seventeen is a time filled with thoughts of opportunity; the excitement of finishing high school, making future plans, moving full speed on the road of life. The autumn of 1974, Rick planned to join the Navy after graduation. See the world. Visit exotic and distant lands. The focus of his world was also music, especially the music of The Beatles. Though they broke up four years earlier, like many die-hard fans, he pinned his hopes on a Beatles Reunion. His room was a virtual shrine to the group with posters covering the walls especially a large, looming presence of George Harrison looking downright biblical. Like others of his generation, he wore bad clothing of that era: polyester, tropical floral shirts and bell-bottoms. He and his buddies would put on their ripped jeans and sleeveless denim jackets pretending to be the Hells Angels as they rode their bikes through the neighborhood. His immediate plans were camping out overnight at the local Ticketron outlet in a quest to get the best concert seats.
His group of friends was artistic and eccentric. One friend wore only purple clothing. Another would drive miles out of the way to avoid making left-hand turns. Some of his friends belonged to a band called the Swing Sets, a “New Wave” band, whose claim to fame was performing in their pajamas. Rick always imagined that he would be their manager; guide them to the top like Brian Epstein did for the Beatles. Other past times including Friday night driving around in cars and going to the local pizza parlor to do “Dada”. Dada (named after the art form) was ritualized silly and absurd public behavior i.e. fencing in the parking lot with plastic palm tree branches while someone played the violin in the background. Also, popping open the hood of the car, propping open a “paint by number” water color of a horse and a camping lantern in the engine and sitting inside the car calmly eating a slice of pizza were also favorite amusements. Once, during a traffic stop, a befuddled cop could not understand why one of his buddies had a camping lantern, a blow dryer, a painting of a horse and plastic palm tree in the back seat of his car.
He tended to be shy, soft-spoken and a polite manner that girls tend to love. He was short in stature, but with strong, gymnast-like shoulders. His medium brown hair was longish with bangs that usually hung in his eyes. His eyes were the most seductive feature, almond shaped perfectly lush curled lashes and soft, fawn-colored hue. He looked child-like, gentle, sweet and innocent. He epitomized sensitivity and trust.
He was born in Dallas, Texas in 1957 and though only five and a half, vividly recalls the trauma at home on November 22, 1963 – the day JFK was assassinated. Living in Tornado Alley, he was fascinated with the changes in the weather, often sitting on his roof watching the twisters touch down in the distance. He loved the puffy endless billows of clouds in the Texas Sky. Being a fan of the Batman TV show, he yearned for a career as a Hollywood Stunt Man, leaping off the roof into the dry, terra cotta dirt, practicing his maneuvers. His parents were from the North; his mom from Philadelphia and his dad from Camden. His dad was an engineer on the ground floor of the Cable T.V. industry and traveled often. For the first five years of his life, most of the time, it was just his mom and him at home until his brother Ken came along. His mom just adored Rick. She was a very good cook and prepared delectable dishes like lamb chops and lobsters for her first born. Most of the time, he refused to eat anything. It took him an hour to eat a cookie. One Christmas, a neighbor dressed as Santa Claus, came to house with a warning that if he didn’t start eating, Santa would not deliver any toys. Being rather stubborn, he was un-swayed. Nevertheless, these were the easy and simple days, unfettered by life’s uncertainty. Even many years later, he would wax nostalgic on the perceived paradise of these times.
At the age of ten, his family relocated to Camden to reside, temporarily, with his Bopshe (Polish for Grandma). This was a lonely and upsetting time. His mom and Bopshe never saw eye-to-eye, so there was constant friction between the two. His family lived there for a year before relocating to Levittown. Having to adjust to another school was difficult at first. However, he met another kid, Dowel, who grew up in Dallas and they hit it off. Summer afternoons both of them would be making 8mm films in the backyard. Stop-action animation or pretend battle scenes. He would walk long distances to purchase his monster magazines. Drudging through snowdrifts, he would imagine himself a World War II infantryman on patrol in the Black Forest.
The summer of 1974 was spent down at his maternal Grandma’s house at the Jersey shore. He always had an affinity for the ocean and beach being a rather strong swimmer. It was a peaceful haven. He worked on the boardwalk at a café. It was during this time that he noticed that physically something was amiss. He had an insatiable thirst, extremely tired, and dry, cracked skin. His Grandma took him to her doctor to rule out Diabetes; the test was negative. The doctor could not determine what was causing his symptoms. By summer’s end, he returned home, got a job at McDonalds, and physically declined. Because he was so lethargic and rather spacey, his parents assumed he was taking drugs. However, within weeks, he started to develop blisters and cuts in his mouth and a burning sensation when he ate. Though it was a warm Indian summer, his body felt constantly cold so much, so that he kept a portable heater next to his bed. At school, he couldn’t shake the fatigue, often falling asleep in class. Walking home from his job, he thought he was going to collapse on the highway. His mom took him to a dentist who could not determine what was causing his mouth sores. Later, on a routine visit with his allergist for his ongoing asthma, who was quite alarmed and referred him to medical doctor. Lab results revealed a very high white blood cell count. There was concern that this could be Leukemia so hospital admission was ordered. On the day of his admission to the hospital, leaving his house, he saw his friend, Al, standing on the corner. As the car rounded the corner, both of them waved to the other as if it was the last time they would see each other. Shortly after admission, it was determined that he was in total kidney failure and he was transferred to Abington Hospital to begin dialysis treatment. The delicate balance between life and death replaced the outrageousness of youth.
Acceptance of his diagnosis did not come easily. Having end stage renal failure required restrictions on diet (potassium and pharoses rich foods) and a fluid intake of one quart of liquid daily, which translated meant no potato chips, spaghetti sauce, bananas, citrus foods, too much dairy products and no more beer bashes with the buddies. This was hard to take and for a long while, he did not comply with the diet. The result caused deleterious consequences. He was hospitalized for Congestive Heart Failure and Pericarditis, an inflammation around the heart lining. Eventually, he began to realize that adolescent rebellion was getting him nowhere and he needed to play by the rules in order to survive. Not that hospitalization was all bad. Due in part to stresses from his medical condition, his parents were on the verge of divorce.
Staying in the hospital offered a respite from the fighting. Also, being in the pediatric ward offered a plethora of opportunities to meet lively teenaged girl patients. He fell especially hard for a girl from Lansdale named Rae. She was an intriguing young girl, beautiful, intellectual but needy and troubled. The caretaker part of him wanted to help her and love her. Their relationship was intense and passionate. Her relationship with her parents was turbulent. He suspected some type of abuse. She also used a lot of drugs: pot, crank, black beauties, Quaaludes. Although like a large majority of the 70’s generation, he smoked pot, but rarely experimented with hard drugs. Her parents immediately disliked him. Since there was geographic distance, they didn’t see each other as much as they would like. Most of their liaisons had to be covert, sneaking out of windows under cover of darkness. Rae was a member of a Witch’s Coven and one full moon night; the two of them participated in Hand fasting ritual – signifying romantic union. Rick was rather stoned at the time and was rather oblivious to the spirituality of the event. It was just something outlandish to do.
During this time, he was placed on waiting lists for kidney transplantation throughout the country: Minnesota, Boston, Brooklyn, University of Pennsylvania, and Albert Einstein Medical Center. It was the bicentennial. His preoccupations were less focused on patriotic displays of 1976 but rather the Paul McCartney concert in June. The concert was a peak experience and he was airborne with awe for weeks. Several weeks later, in July, he was grounded by a middle of the night phone call. A kidney match was available at Peter Bent Brigham Hospital in Boston. Within hours, he was on a plane to Logan Airport, on a gurney, being prepped for surgery, and under anesthesia. Within hours, he possessed a new, functioning kidney. The entire experience was like a fast moving Silent film. Post-discharge plans required remaining in Boston for three months. He rented an efficiency apartment in Brookline. Despite the medical setbacks, living on his own was quite liberating. The “Freedom Trail” tasted good. Some nurses befriended him and accompanying him on day trips to Marble Beach, Salem and Old North Church. JKF’s birthplace was within walking distance. He soaked up the history and the legacy of the place.
During the separation from Rae, their relationship faltered. Her parents shipped her to a Boarding School, the death knell of their relationship. He became isolative and depressed grieving his lost first love. Walking in the Mall, he singled out women who resembled her. Often, he and his buddies would cruise by her house hoping she was home on vacation and catch a glimpse. It was not to be.
Shortly thereafter, he decided to channel his depression into action by giving college a try. Since a little boy, multimedia was an interest thus Media Arts was his chosen major. He enjoyed the hands-on aspects of his major but the theory and bookwork was harder to master. Flare-ups in his illness made it difficult to complete his courses. He would have to withdraw from the classes. Therefore, in the summer he decided to take a furlong from school/work. He and his friend, Simon, took a two-week journey out to Indiana, then north through Canada to Niagara Falls, to Montreal, Canadian Maritimes, down the New England Coast from Maine. The problems of his world faded into abeyance, melding into the beautiful and scenic vistas the unfurled past the windows of his Vega.
The reprieve was short lived. Medical studies revealed that his kidney was rejecting. In an effort to save it, the doctors administered high doses of Prednisone, a corticosteroid. Unfortunately, this drug causes unpleasant side effects: weight gain, facial swelling, mood swings, night sweats. He was dissatisfied with his distorted, overweight physical appearance; his self-esteem suffered. All was for naught though when his kidney totally rejected. He returned to dialysis feeling discouraged and defeated. He was determined to make the best of it and hope for a second transplant. He immersed himself in his soul comforts, the Beatles, photography, rock concerts and hanging out with friends. His demeanor was downcast and grim though. Because he rarely smiled, his friends called him “Chuckles”. This kind of ribbing didn’t lighten his mood.
A buddy of his fronted a fledging local rock band. The band wanted photographs to use for promotion purposes. The band enlisted him to take pictures of the group at a rehearsal. At one particular rehearsal, he noticed a girl sitting pensively tucked under a tan cap. Later that night, the group by ritual all went to Denny’s. The girl was the cousin of the drummer. Everyone was sharing French fires, one of his forbidden foods; however, the girl was munching on onion rings. He politely asked, “May I have one of your onion rings?” She said “Sure”. As the group dispersed to their cars, the person who drove the girl was unable to take her home. Her cousin, Frank, a rather bossy individual and said to “Rick, take Patti home”. Feeling embarrassed and shy and at the same time saying “Yes!” inside, he agreed. Conversation was difficult due the Queen music blaring on the radio. Her attention was captured through the decibels when he shared that he was going to the Who concert next month. They are her favorite band and her interest was instantly sharpened. Years later, she found out this caused much stress for him, bribing his friends to relinquish their tickets, in an effort to impress her. They would not. He asked Frank for her phone number but he refused for several weeks. Finally, yielding to, pressure, Frank stated, her last name was Twining. Look it up in the phone book”. He asked her for a date to a Beatles Festival. She was a Beatles fan too. When she said that she would love to go, he replied, “You would!” Their first date was December 1, 1979, also happened to be the birthday of her deceased mother. She looked upon this as a good sign.
The defining moment that this relationship could evolve into something special occurred during a viewing of a “Hard Day’s Night”. He turned to her and asked “Can I put my arm on the back of your chair, my arm feels a little tight”. He kept his arm there for about twenty minutes and then, took it away, shaking it vigorously, saying, “Boy, that feels better.” She smiled inside. This boy is too cute! I could be really close to him, she thought.
Ten days into their relationship, University of Pennsylvania called him with a transplant match. He returned earlier from seeing The Who. He was freaked since he smoked some pot at the concert. He nervously told the anesthesiologist who was amused. This would not affect the surgery. He ruminated anxiously since he never told her about his medical problems. Yet, she already knew. Her cousin told her months earlier. Still in the lachrymose throes of post-op anesthesia, weeping, he bemoaned that now she would not want to be with him. She said, “I have always known”. He cried “Why didn’t tell me?” She said, “You never asked”.
So began a twenty-year commitment. The medical scares and emotional maelstroms veered up intermittently but ultimately strengthened the preciousness of their relationship. In 1984, he did lose his second transplant and returned to dialysis treatment, which has been ongoing ever since. Yet, because of his strength of character, resilience, and tenacity, he has surmounted these adversities with a zest for living and ever constant optimism.
He is tender to his cats that respond to him with affectionate purring. He treasures his precious record collection. They share a secret language and wry, twisted sense of humor that only the two of them can understand. He has supported and nurtured her through family, job conflicts and her own recent illness. She knows that he will always be there for her and her for him. He listens well and conveys the gentle wisdom of his life experience
Moreover, knowing his past struggles, he will never give up.