In the spirit of the Stevie Nicks’ song, “The Edge of Seventeen”, the age of 17 is a threshold of opportunity on the doors to the adult life that lies ahead; 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 popular music of the day, especially the music of the Beatles was also a focused interest. Even though the Beatles broke up four years earlier, like many die-hard fans, he pinned his hopes on a 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 the bad polyester clothing of that era, tropical floral shirts and bell-bottoms. He and his buddies would put on their ripped jeans and sleeveless denim jackets and pretend to be the Hells Angels as they rode their bikes through the neighborhood.
The majority of his friends were artistic, avant-garde 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 and guide them to the top like Brian Epstein did for the Beatles.
Other past times including Friday nights driving around in cars and going to the local pizza parlor to do “Dada”. Dada (named after the art form) was basically ritualized group silliness manifested by absurd public behavior - i.e. fencing in the parking lot with plastic palm tree branches while someone played the violin in the background. 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.
Despite the outrageous tendencies of his friends, Rick tended to be shy, reserved and soft-spoken. Though short in stature, he had strong, gymnast-like shoulders. His medium brown hair, longish with bangs, usually hung in his eyes. His soft brown eyes were warm and seductive, almond shaped with perfectly lush curled lashes.
He was born in Dallas, Texas in 1957. Living in Tornado Alley, he was fascinated with the weather, often sitting as a little boy of nine on his roof watching the twisters touch down in the distant plains. 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. He practiced his future trade relentlessly often leaping off the roof of his house into the dry, terra cotta dirt.
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. He traveled a lot. For the first five years of his life, it was just his Mom and him at home most of the time, until his brother Ken came along. His mom, an accomplished cook, prepared delectable dishes like grilled rosemary lamb chops and broiled lobsters with drawn butter for her first born. Most of the time, he refused to eat anything. It would take an hour for him 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. These were the easy and simple days, unfettered by life’s uncertainty. Even many years later, he would wax nostalgic on these times.
At the age of ten, his family relocated to Camden, NJ, temporarily, to live with his Bopshe (Polish for Grandma), his father’s mother - 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, PA. 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 made 8mm films in the backyard. Stop-action animation or pretend battle scenes. He would walk long distances to the five and dime to purchase the latest edition of his cherished 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. Always a strong swimmer, he always had an affinity for the ocean and beach. 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, was extremely tired, and his skin was dry and cracked. 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 continued to physically decline. Because he was so lethargic and rather spacey (from uremic poisoning), his parents wrongly accused him of taking drugs. However, within weeks, blisters and cuts in his mouth and a burning sensation after he ate developed in his mouth. Though 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 often felt like collapsing on the highway. His mom took him to a dentist who could not determine what was causing his mouth sores. Later, during a routine visit with his allergist for his ongoing asthma, the doctor was quite alarmed and referred him to an internist. Lab results revealed a very high white blood cell count. Since there was concern that this could be Leukemia, he was admitted to a hospital right away. On the day of his admission to the hospital, upon 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 the admission, it was determined that he was in total kidney failure and he was transferred to Abington Hospital to begin hemodialysis 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 phosphorous rich foods) and a fluid intake of one quart of liquid daily. Translation: no potato chips, spaghetti sauce, bananas, citrus foods, too much dairy products and no more beer bashes with the buddies. This was hard for a teenager 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 his rebelliousness could cost him his life, so he needed to play by the rules in order to survive. Not that being hospitalized was all bad. Due, in part, to the stresses created by his medical condition, his parents were on the verge of divorce. His frequent hospitalizations offered an escape from the turmoil at home.
Staying in the hospital offered a respite from their fighting. Also, as a patient in the pediatric ward, a plethora of opportunities to meet female teenaged patients was available. He fell especially hard for a girl from Lansdale named Rae. She was an intriguing young girl, beautiful, intellectual but also with a troubled family life. The caretaker part of him wanted to help her and to love her. Their relationship was intense and passionate. Her relationship with her parents was turbulent. Since there was considerable geographic distance between their homes, they didn’t see each other as much as they would have liked.
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 nation’s bicentennial celebration. His preoccupations were less focused on the patriotic displays of 1976 but rather the incoming Paul McCartney concert in June he was scheduled to attend.
Several weeks later, in July, he was notified in the middle of the night that a kidney match was available at Peter Bent Brigham Hospital in Boston. Within hours, he was on a plane to Logan Airport, transported on a gurney, being prepped for surgery, and under general anesthesia. Hours later, 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. Living on his own was liberating feeling despite some medical setbacks that he suffered. The Freedom Trail tasted good indeed. He was befriended by some of his nurses who took 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 Boston.
During the separation from Rae, their relationship faltered. Her parents shipped her to a Boarding School in the country, the geographical distance proved too daunting. He became depressed grieving his lost first love. Walking in the Mall, he noticed women who resembled her. Often, he and his buddies would cruise by her house hoping she was home on vacation just to catch a glimpse of her. 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 working the television cameras and audio equipment but the theory and bookwork proved more burdensome. Flare-ups in his illness made it difficult to sometimes complete his courses. He would have to withdraw from the classes before finishing. Therefore, in the summer, he decided to take a furlong from school/work. He and his friend, Simon, took a two-week road trip 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 that 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 corticosteriod. Unfortunately, the drug caused 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 anyway. 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”.
A buddy of his fronted a fledging local rock band. The band wanted photographs of them taken to use for promotional purposes. The band enlisted him to take pictures of group at a rehearsal. At one particular rehearsal, he noticed a thin, blonde girl sitting pensively on the sofa. Later that night, the group all went to Denny’s. The girl was the cousin of the drummer. Everyone was sharing French Fries, 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”. Later, 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 to his nervousness and the loud decibels of Queen Music blaring on the radio. Her attention was captured 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. He tried to bribe his friends to relinquish their tickets, in an effort to impress the girl. They would not do it.
He asked her cousin, Frank for her phone number but he refused for several weeks. Finally, yielding to, pressure, Frank stated, “Her last name is Twining. Look it up in the phone book”. He asked her for a date to a Beatles Festival. She was a big Beatles fan too. When she said that she would love to go, he replied, “You would!”. Their first date was December 1, 1979.
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 inquired “Can I put my arm on the back of your chair; my arm feels a little tight”. He kept his arm there, strategically propped against the back of the chair, for about twenty minutes and then, took it away, shaking it vigorously, saying, “Boy that feels better.” She was impressed with his subtle and polite approach and smiled inside.
Ten days into their relationship, the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania notified him of a transplant match. He returned earlier in the evening from seeing The Who. He ruminated anxiously since he never told his new girlfriend about his medical problems. He was unaware that she already knew. Her cousin told her months earlier before they even met. Still in the lachrymose throes of post-op anesthesia, 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. Medical scares and subsequent emotional maelstroms veered up intermittently but ultimately strengthened the precious connection 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. Like the energizer bunny, “he keeps going and going!”