My name is Daniel Kevin Richards, aka Dano, of Phoenix, AZ, and this is my obituary. It was a work in progress until September 13, 2023.
I arrived in this world in the Spring of 1948 in Galesburg, Illinois, just before high noon. I was promptly presented to startled parents William B. Richards (44) and Patricia S. Richards (39) and their two previous children, Constance Joan, and William T. Richards.
I considered myself a Boomer generation love child, but my siblings seemed to think otherwise. Still, my brother Bill had 10 years on me and my late sister Constance had 15, so you do the math.
As a kid, I played pick-up baseball at H.T. Custer Park simply for the love of the game. I spent my days with kids like Hod Johnson, Gary Bruington and Otie Thierry on teams sponsored by The Pastime Club, Ellis Jewelers and The Galesburg Warriors.
I saw Satchel Paige take the field with the Kansas Monarchs, and was the bat boy for the 1962 Illinois American Legion State Champion team. The only thing I loved more than baseball was reading “The Hardy Boys” and the entire “Chip Hilton Sports Series.” I loved books; had so many I never did find a $100 bill slipped into one by a friend about 10 years ago. Someone’s going to get lucky at my estate sale.
In high school I was awarded a slot in American Legion Boys State of Illinois, which may have been my highest academic achievement. I attended ASU but lost interest a few years in and went to Europe instead.
I returned to Phoenix eventually and worked in the construction industry for decades. Along the way I took a few detours. I investigated professional balloon animal-making and medical device sales, but found no future in either.
I hit my stride as a construction project superintendent, bringing major structures to life all over the U.S. from Savannah, GA to Oceanside CA. I found great joy moving around the country and seeing the quirks of each place. Rural Pennsylvania was the Land of Tattooed Ladies long before it was fashionable anywhere. In California, I lived at the beach and temporarily attained the status of “Bronzed God.” In Baltimore, I finally learned how to float — in a hotel swimming pool.
On a hiatus from construction, I found myself at a mountain cabin on the Mogollon Rim. It was here that I invented the fine art of catch-and-release squirrel, chipmunk, and blue jay fishing with nothing more than my wits, some peanuts in the shell, and a bit of nylon line. I invented the sport and take full credit.
I finally retired after I couldn’t find a place to stay in Alabama to build a chicken processing plant, which was not on my bucket list anyway. So I got in my truck and drove back to Phoenix, where I landed in a 55+ community. From my new home base, I refined my skills as a pest to the HOA and prodigious giver of gifts.
My trademark Christmas present was socks wrapped in newspaper and left on the front porch, but I also shared my love of books by Terry Pratchett, raccoon hats from Canada with real faces, Killer Bunny slippers from the Monty Python fashion line, and in my final days, Croatian/Slovenian Povitica coffee cakes shipped from Kansas that weighed more than a Norwegian Forest Cat.
I never did get around to a wife or kids, but in 2009 at the age of 61 I met the love of my life at the community swimming pool. Saundra Bryn was a lover of cats and all things bright and beautiful. We shared laughter and tears and made plans for a life in retirement. But the heavy hand of fate put its fingers on the scale and after too short a time, our health sent us in different directions. She passed away a few months before I got away myself.
I told my big brother Bill not to make a big deal over all this, and to direct anyone so inclined to donate in my memory to Hospice of The Valley in Phoenix, AZ. I fought like hell to stay out of there but on the third try it took. So, this is the part where I thank Bill for being my rock, for showing his love for me in so many ways, and for sticking with me no matter what stupid-ass path I took, right to the very end.
Laughing with abandon until the tears come was probably my best trait. I hope you all practice this daily, along with my patented taste-treat — ice cold beer and fudge, with or without nuts.
