Ricardo Presnell: From Kim Holtan Lang

Songs in the Key of Ricardo

The Reverend Doctor Ricardo Davis Presnell. Ricardo. Card. Rico. Ric. The Wiggler. Ricky Dee. Boo Boo. The Man. The Boy. The Reverend. The Rev.

I knew Ricardo by many names and am sure there were many I didn’t know. He was expressive and multidimensional, and not just in name. His life was crammed full of high level experience, people, love, adventure, profession, passion, and vitality. He was our Ricardo. The man I loved to share. Sharp, funny, beautiful with an infectious laugh and insatiable curiosity. He had many faces and voices: robust laughing Ricardo- rubbing his hand back over his head and giving me THAT look; straight faced Rico- with perhaps just a curl to his upper lip; the wiggy wiggy woo woo silly Ricardo; early morning Ricardo, caffeinated, focused, and planning the day’s mission; crisp, clipped professional Ricardo (the little bitty piece I saw); dancing his little skip wiggle dance Ricardo; outdoor Ricardo, too vast to describe; and the god forbid if I’ve had the misfortune to displease him Ricardo, ruthlessly silent and stonefaced. My Ricardo. Our Ricardo.

I can’t believe his life is complete. Mine is now so fragmented and disrupted. My memories flow, a small pulse in Ricardo’s vast song. Our collective memories are Ricardo’s symphony. He may be gone, but we keep his song.

I remember the first time I laid eyes on Ricardo, skiing at Mad River Glen. I’d never seen anything like him. He was fast, really fast in that point ‘em straight alpine boot 205’s javelin skis kind of way. He was the most beautiful, baddest, blackest skier I’d ever seen in my life. Not a common Vermont sight in 1978, to say the least. For those of you unfamiliar with Mad River Glen, it is a small ski area nestled in the Green Mountains. Hard, steep, narrow, and gnarly with abundant trees, stumps, rocks, and hunks of random ice. The kind of terrain that beats a body up, 20 year old Ricardo’s kind of place. Back in those days the tree skiing was not as known or popular as it is today, still Ricardo knew the shots. We bonded as skiers that first day, skiing hard until the very last chair. That night I ran into him at the Alibi (Middlebury’s dive bar). We drank beverages, we danced, we shared stories and friends. Sound familiar? Like so many of you, it was the pattern our friendship was to take for the next 32 years. Can he really be gone?

That first spring of our friendship he took me on my first ski hike after the lifts closed for the season. Skis on my shoulders hiking straight up the mountain, I quickly realized I was in trouble. I was skiing strong, but this task required some mental fitness that I had not previously considered. I eventually fell into the rhythm of his gait and boot pack. A new part of me began to sprout. Ricardo was a pivotal, powerful influence in my life. I discovered much about myself through him.

Our friendship deepened with many college exploits. Ricardo had the best music. A bunch of us would crash some normal people’s party usually wearing funk outfits and the omnipresent sunglasses (“ya gots ta have on your sunglasses”). They’d be milling about, probably bored, no dancing. Ricardo would swiftly yank off whatever was droning on the stereo and replace it with one of his notorious “bad tapes.” The mothership landed and everybody must dance. It was contagious so dance they did, no longer bored or normal.

I loved Ricardo, always will. His friendships were a communal inspiration. We weren’t satellites in Ricardo’s orbit, we were stars in the same constellation. The beat goes on. In places I can’t imagine. Molly Stevens said to me, “You can’t die in your bliss if you’re not living your bliss.” Life is movement, a pulse, a beat, a dance. If you’re not in it you’re not living. Show up, do it, be it, feel it, relish it. Dance it!

I want to my finish my piece with my happiest day. Ricardo became a minister of the Universal Life Church so he could marry Gil and me. Reverend Ricardo noted in our ceremony that a circle of friends is a family. We know this. Ricardo’s friends were his family. And through Ricardo we are all family. The Reverend married us outdoors, Vermont’s fall foliage blazing beneath Mt Mansfield. During our vows I swept my arms towards the mountains and said, “This is my Cathedral.” It felt so right having wild-hearted Reverend Ricardo officiate! He ended our ceremony with these words: ”I pronounce you man and wife. And may your single track be endless and powder bottomless. You may kiss the bride.” That winter we went to Utah and skied with Ricardo. As we skinned up a gorgeous ridge on a bright sunny day Ricardo turned to me, smiled broadly and swept his arm out across the Wasatch and said, “This is my Cathedral.”

Ricardo gave me my happiest day in my Cathedral, and on my saddest day he left me forever from his.

Peace be with you.

Kim Holtan Lang, Burlington, VT