One of the things I love most is to hear other people’s stories about Rick. It is so cathartic for me. I’d like to dedicate some MeZine space to your memories of Rick. No matter how big or small or funny or stupid, I’d love for you to share the memory with us. Or you can just read mine. That’s ok too.
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My Brother, My Hairdresser

When I was in Kindegarten I got a part in the school play. I think I was a tree — not a starring role, but a role nonetheless. This play was my Academy Awards and, like all up-and-coming Hollywood stars, I had to get myself a stylist. Luckily, I knew just the person for the job: my 4 year old brother, Rick. Like all well-paid and dedicated stylists, Rick woke up early to help me glam up for my stage debut.

Rick would always get excited about projects and I imagine this one was no exception. I can almost feel his sense of purpose as he grabbed the scissors from the crayon drawer, his 4 year old mind racing through design concepts. Perhaps he went through the paper the night before to look for hairdos that would inspire his vision (this was well before Google or the internet), or maybe he was inspired by something he saw in a cartoon, I’m not sure. All I knew at the time is his artistic vision would turn me into the most beautiful tree on the stage of many short, plaid pants-wearing cardboard trees.

Now, this happened a long time ago and I cannot profess to remember the details. But through my mom’s many re-tellings of the story, I gathered that Rick’s hairdressing days came to an abrupt end that day. As for my hair, well… the large bald patch never really caught on with the masses. Neither, apparently, did my acting.

COMMENTS

2005-09-23 11:37:38

Duck wrote: When we left college, I had to stay overnight in the dorms to fly back to Colorado. I said goodbye to Rick outside and went back into our room, and he had left me a note. It was just wishing me luck in moving to NYC and starting my first job and he left for me the sprinkler key they had given him in his first job at PCC - he loved PCC. He said it meant a lot to him and he had kept it those years since. I put it on my key chain that night and still have it there today. It was kind of a lonely last night in those quiet, abandoned dorms and Rick had left me a note. It was really, really nice. Now it is kind of quiet and lonely again, but I am glad to have the sprinkler key from that day.

2005-09-26 06:45:57

Incognito wrote: Speaking of PCC. I was a student at PCC in the summer of 87, when Rick served as a proctor. Of course, then, he was Mr. Crawford, because he was a proctor.

Since PCC first-year students are 8th graders heading into their first year at new high schools in the fall, it was natural for us to want to try to meet and get some “inside tips” from the proctors who attended those high schools. There were two proctors from Attleboro that year, Rick and Deb Amaral (Miss Amaral, that is…) Two of us who were to be attending AHS in the fall had several really funny and comforting conversations with Rick and Deb. There was “top secret” teacher information and “what was good for lunch” data. There was information about cafeterias and social order and well — you know, all the things 8th graders worry about when they’re headed to high school. I knew that there were many similar conversations happening between proctors and students at PCC that summer — but it made me feel special and much more at ease about the prospect of high school to have had them.

Many years later, I ran into Mr. Crawford. At a bar. Unfortunately, I don’t think I resisted the natural urge to call him Mr. Crawford. Because we were then just people who ran into one another at bars, or who saw one another at parties — I don’t think I ever told him — or Deb Amaral — how much it meant to me that they were willing to take time to talk to a dorky, intimidated high school student… But they were — and it meant a lot to me.

I stop in at Mezine here and there. I’m glad I stopped in this week. Clearly, the testimony of Rick’s friends and family prove that he was an astounding individual.

2005-09-26 12:09:15

EOC wrote: When Rick and I first met, he had just quit smoking for the gazillionth time, but this time he MEANT IT and gave me his Zippo lighter as a token of our newfound friendship. I of course would blow myself up if I ever attempted to refill it so once it ran out of fire stuff it was just kicking around. Then I thought my boyfriend at the time threw it out because he was always a little suspect of Rick and my affections for him. Go figure. I forgot about the Zippo until Rick and I moved to Veery Road and found it in a bag. At this point, Rick had resumed smoking so I gave him back his Zippo. If you love something and set it free it comes back to you! So Rick and his Zippo were reunited. The funeral director guy (who I have made a likeness of and stick pins in because he was tres terrible)gave me the contents in Rick’s pockets. One almost empty pack of Marlboro lights, a receipt for Dunkin Donuts (One pound of coffee and one donut, time 9:37pm) and his Zippo. I still can’t fill it and I don’t think I want to.

2005-09-26 14:01:19

B wrote: I have two more memories, but I’m going to post them separately. (Everyone loves a post)

Slycee Jenkins was performing for one of the first times at a private party in Attleboro and I went to the party with my parents (<i>quelle horror</i>). Rick dedicated the Gordon Lightfoot song, “Sundown” to my dad because dad was a fan. But he started to sing the lyrics the crowd burst out laughing.

The first line is:

“I can see her lying back in her satin dress
in a room where you do what you don’t confess.”

Not the lines you want associated with your dad.

And the second….

After a night of partying one night when he lived in DC, Rick and a friend and were walking back from the bar to their apartment. They were a little toasty and they found themselves talking with a rough character who was walking their way to the bus. The guy started talking casually about the gun he was carrying, so by the time the threesome got to the bus the fact that he had a gun was well established. To Rick and his friend’s surprise (although probably not to anyone else), they got mugged by their new friend who made off with not quite $15 ($3 of which was Rick’s).

So Rick and his friend were walking home and getting more and more angry that they were just taken advantage of, so they walked back to the bus stop to confront their mugger. The mugger then beat the crap out of the both of them and– to add insult to injury– relieved Rick of his beloved authentic Red Sox hat.

2005-10-03 13:26:24

Duck wrote: The day I resigned to move to Massachusetts, I was on-line with Rick. I e-mailed him that I was nervous about quitting for some reason, and that I would have loved it to get fired - get severance and save the energy about having to resign. Anyway he said I should go about trying to get fired, and we had a bunch of humorous ideas. One that I remember from him was to go into my bosses office and say, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

When my boss would say yes, I was supposed to say “Second’s up, sucka!” and walk out.

2005-10-05 10:03:29

EOC wrote: That’s perfect.

2005-10-07 18:56:16

Strummer wrote: I have a couple of recurring memories of Rick. They’re not too funny or unusual but they encapsulate Rick for me. I’ll try to describe them so perhaps you all will know what I’m talking about:

Walks into the room, calculated slight droop of his shoulders. Bald head. Tall, thin; but healthy. Shaved yesterday maybe (both head and face). Tall; cool (yeah, cool though I’d've never told him so). Big smiling face when he sees you. Made you feel good; like he was genuinely really happy to be in your company. “hey _____ (insert your name here.” Extended hand, firm handshake.

—-

The Tuesday before Rick died I was off. Around noon I said to my wife, Maura, that we should have Rick over for lunch sometime (He works a mile away). She said, “call him right now.” I did and he said he’d be over in 20 minutes. I told him where our house was. After 30 minutes he called and was way past our house. I said I’ll go out front and wave to him so he wouldn’t miss us.

I went out front with my daughter Amber and we watched him drive right by in Erin’s Saturn (which I think he hated). We waved but he never saw us. I can still see that tall bald guy looking direclty ahead, driving by while cramped into that little car. I can still remember laughing out loud. He looked so funny.

(The next time around he found us.)

I hope you all are holding up okay. I miss him every day. Indescribable. Such a great person. A great friend. Uh.

2005-10-11 13:32:21

Duck wrote: This is kind of a long explanation, but one time a few years ago, a group of us went skiing and we were playing a word game in the car called ghost. One person says a letter and the next has to say a letter that is leading to a word, but you cannot end a word. So one person says C, the next says A, and if the next person says T, they lose and get a letter (like in horse, but it’s the letter G for ghost). But you had to say a letter that lead to a bigger word (for example, after c and a, you could say u which would suggest cauldron, or caulk). One round Rick was 5th, and the letters went N-I-N-J and Rick was next, boxed into ending the word ninja, ending a word and losing. But he tried to bluff and said I. When the next person challenged him to name a word that started n-i-n-j-i, he said defiantly “Ninjifski!”

(post deleted by accident, it was a story about a telethon)

2005-10-14 14:01:26

Bassface: I’ve been laughing for 20 minutes picturing Rick on the phone. That is too funny. So Rick.

2005-10-20 10:42:30

Joe M wrote: I have so many memories of Rick, that sometimes it is hard to keep track of them all, but here is the first of what I hope to be at least a few posts.

I forget if it was Junior or Senior year of college, but Jay and I finally motored our way up to Bates to hang with Rick. It just happened to be Paul Newman day (or maybe weekend, I forget) where one attempts (key word) to drink 24 beers in 24 hours. I think Rick made it to about 21, I made it to 17, and Jay a few less than that. At some point during the madness, we went for a walk looking for a party that Rick heard about. As we were walking by the football frat’s party, I decided we should just go to their party. They didn’t like the looks of us three scrawny guys, so they wouldn’t let us in. Wisely, I challenged a bunch of them to a fight and really would have done some serious damage if Rick and Jay hadn’t dragged me away from what would have been an ugly scene. The next morning, sitting there with the absolute worst hangover of my life, I remember thinking then that that weekend at Bates with Rick would be something I would never forget.

2005-10-21 10:15:46

Duck wrote: Every year Bates would get bleacher tickets and run vans down to a Sox game in the Spring. One year when we were at Fenway, Rick got up to go to the bathroom. When he got to the aisle, one of us called out “Hey Rick - get me a beer,” and someone else asked “Rick, can you get me a popcorn?”

Hearing this, everyone in the bleachers started calling out - “Hey Rick! Get me a ….” Hundreds of people yelling “Hey, Rick!” For the rest of the game whenever Rick would leave his seat everyone in the entire section would call out to him by name “Hey Rick!”, “Getting a hot dog, Rick?”, and when he returned everyone would say to whoever they were sitting with and say “Hey, Rick’s back!”

2005-10-21 20:01:34

Paul wrote: Duck let me know about this site and the postings. I think about Rick frequently and it causes me to pause in this incredibly hectic world we live in.

I hadn’t seen Rick much over the past 5-10 years, and he was never one to call or stay in touch, which makes his passing all the more hard and bizarre. I miss him and can’t believe we won’t be getting together for a couple beers and to share laughs.

I met Rick at Bates and we had a blast from then on. When I think of Rick the image that comes to mind is him laughing, leaning forward — looking at the ground.

We had such good times with our friends. The same good times everyone has — bar stories, sitting around doing nothing with buddies, road trips, golf rounds, late night conversations about life.

Rick was a unique person - incredible depth while appearing totally care free. The only times I can remember him being truly pissed off were the DC mugging when he lost his Red Sox hat and the injustice he felt one night in college when he was in the emergency room in the early morning hours after cutting his hand at a party, and he gave Duck and I the only money the three of us had to buy him some food and rather than bring him what he’d wanted, Duck and I left him, bought some food, ate almost all of it, and then gave Rick only what remained. Doughnut holes will always be funny to me because of it.

2005-10-25 11:28:09

Julianna wrote: I don’t really have a story to tell or a memory to share. I came by to see what everyone else had been sharing. I miss Rick a lot today.

In the past I have thought to myself, “This is it..the worst day in my life so far and evermore” but if I had the chance to talk to Rick,.. well it could still be the worst day but I would at the very least feel like an alright person because I had at least one really great friend.

Since my only alternative to talking to my really great friend is listening to his really great songs, that is what I have been doing. It turns out, it is possible to have conversations with Slycee Jenkins songs. Pretty funny ones too.

Miss you Rick.

2005-11-08 10:12:23

B wrote: Lately I’ve been struck by the finality of Rick’s death. I remember last year during election night we both sat at our computers, hundreds of miles away from each other, and IMed each other in-between the frantic reading of polical blogs and frantic watching of Fox News (and sometimes the frantic crying of his little daughter). Strummer and I even blogged a little here in the former Vent. When I went to bed at 2 AM, I had a small red wine hangover and we still didn’t have a president. It was a blast.
I miss him.

2005-11-10 07:28:54

Duck wrote: I feel like recently the subconscious hope that all of this isn’t true is starting to fade, and in some ways the digestion of that is a much larger hurdle. It’s unbelievable to me still.

2005-11-14 15:11:10

B wrote: I remember Rick getting all giddy when he emailed conservative journo Jonah Goldberg, for whom he had great respect. He even forwarded me the email because he was so excited.

2005-11-15 10:14:01

Lily wrote: I miss disagreeing with his politics and I miss listening to you all argue about it all.

2005-11-21 14:48:33

Jeff wrote: I logged into my Friendster account for the first time in like a year this weekend and I had totally forgotten how funny our testimonial exchange was. For example, when describing Rick in my testimonial about him, I wrote:

“One day I was walking around and I saw Rick at the store.”

In return, Rick penned this testimonial about me:

“Jeff is one of those incredible people that makes you wish Arsenio Hall still
had a late night talk show.”

I miss that dude….

2005-11-21 17:35:38

Incognito wrote: speaking of friendster, i just checked my aol mail for the first time in months and i had an email from rick@vroop.com date, nov. 3 and i couldn’t see much of the subject line, only, “*rem. . .” and i was a little freaked out for a second, but then i opened it and friendster was reminding me that Rick had invited me to join.

If anyone was going to break into email from the after world, I think Rick would be the one to do it.

I miss him, too.

2005-11-22 14:29:02

B wrote: His friendster account is still active. It freaked me out when I. checked the site.

I’m sure Rick, with help from my aunt Susie, will hack in from the other side if there is a way. He’s probably working on some code now and rubbing his head.

2005-12-09 06:48:30

Mike A wrote: I was talking with Tommy the other night about Rick and how we all miss him. I was hoping to be spending this Fall and Winter back from California, just picking his mind about these new songs I’ve been writing, maybe collaborate a bit with him.

We were at CarlÍs studio on Saturday night and played a little bit with Steve and Adam and recorded some stuff. It was a lot of fun but thereÍs always someone missing it seems. I find myself asking: “What would Rick think about this song?” He’d tell me when I did good and when it wasn’t working. He liked “Penance” a song I wrote out in California and we ended up playing the other night. He also liked “Reservoir” quite a bit and I remember an IM he sent me onetime: “Gonna dig myself a February grave– F-n great line.” Another song that was banging around with BAE was “Cain and Abel”, a song about two friends estranged over a battle about a girl. He liked songs with an edge, lyrics that hit home with people.

I hear his voice when I’m writing lately saying Scap it or yeah, that’s pretty good. He’s still there as a mentor. I’m not sure how religious Rick was but he responded to the spiritual stuff and all you had to do was talk to him and you’d sense that part of his personality. I can’t help but think that my Mom (who passed away in October) might be in some lounge in Heaven listening to Rick’s new band.

I have many Rick stories but my favorite is one night after a Slycee / BAE gig, we went back to his apartment behind St. John’s Church and were hanging out, having a few beers at his kitchen table. I had an old acoustic and I started playing A-G-D. Rick started improvising lyrics and soon we had a song called Carl’s got leather pants on.î. It was an instant crowd favorite and although never recorded, it was a catchy, silly tune ƒone that Erin, Jackie, Carl, Pete, Tommy, Steve, and I will always remember (I think they were all thereƒ) from that great night. It was fairly representative of many after-show parties at that place. Music, friends, beers, laughs: he loved it all.

I also have another distinct memory. I was teaching at Feehan, living at home, reacquainting myself with the Attleboro area after returning from Boulder, CO after two years away. I headed to Johnny MacÍs (Where else?) on my own to see if anyone was around and low and behold Slycee was playing as a cover band, I think. I couldnÍt believe that Rick Crawford, the former 800-meter runner from Attleboro was in a band. I had a beer with him after the set and told him of my recent purchase of a 4-track and my hope to be in a band some day. He told me to give him a call to play sometime if I got some songs down. Needless to say, I did, and two years later BAE was opening for Slycee on the same stage. He was there supporting our efforts the whole way.

I remember visiting Rick while he was pursuing his freelance writing career. He had the whole setup in that old apartment and I was so jealous of a guy who got to write full-time. I was always picking his brain on how to make this transition, to take a chance with my writing, and get out their and make a career of it. His work was a big influence on me going to USC to pursue my Masters in Professional Writing. I’m still envious that I never got to go full-time like he did. He took chances with his career. I always respected that because I always seemed to play it safe.

2006-01-09 13:16:46

Mindy wrote: You don’t know me, and I know it’s a bit late, but for what it’s worth I wanted to send my condolences to you and the rest of Rick’s family. I knew your brother many years ago when he was living in DC—actually it was 14 years ago and I can’t believe it’s been that long. We spent quite a bit of time together in the few months before he moved back home. In the scheme of things we really didn’t know each other for very long, but I have thought of him often over the years. A few years ago I stumbled upon MeZine and have enjoyed checking in every so often to see what you all are writing about. When I checked in last Friday, I was stunned to learn about Rick’s death. It’s pretty obvious from the posts here how many lives Rick touched and I just felt like I needed to say “here’s one more.” Except for the day he left DC—which prompted floods of tears and which I remember vividly—all of my memories of Rick are happy and fun and have made me laugh many times over the years. I had more fun with Rick in the few months I knew him than I have had with many other people I’ve known for years. Despite many promises to keep in touch we didn’t, and I frequently regretted not trying harder because I missed the great conversations about books and music, listening to him play the guitar, and just generally being silly. I thought a lot about Rick over the weekend, I shed some tears and smiled a lot and now I’m sorry that I never had the nerve to email him after I found this site, just to say hi. Anyway, please accept my deepest sympathies.

2006-01-10 06:31:19

Jane wrote: Thank you, Mindy, for writing. Just know that it is never too late. We so appreciate anyone who tells us stories and memories of Rick.
Jane Crawford, Rick’s Mom