To The Enormous Circle Of Ricardo Presnell’s Friends And Co-Workers:
Cards was an irreplaceable friend. His loss is nearly unendurable, and as I type the tears falling on my keyboard are reminding me that I’m still a rotten typist and also want to be careful of electrocution. Perhaps that might not be so bad, because it’s only now after the greatest friend a wuss like me has ever had is gone that I realize what I’ve lost. He was a force of nature, an irrepressible soul who instantly made everyone around him feel better, not only about themselves but about the world in general. I’ve never met anyone else like him, and the space that used to hold my heart is filled with longing for missed opportunities and the realization that the world is now a much, much poorer place for his passing.
When I first met Ricardo as freshmen at Middlebury College, I was amazed that a wonderfully personable guy like him would be at all interested in developing a friendship with a nearly antisocial Masshole like myself. He’d immediately become the center of a great group of friends, of all the classes there in 1976, and his personality was ridiculously contagious. We planned to room together as sophomores, but he ended up taking a year off to work for the Appalachian Mountain Club, and I remember the solo hike up the Tuck’s trail, in the dark, with a huge pack, to visit him for a few days at the Tuck’s cabin where he was stationed with Joe Gill, an AMC-er of astounding repute. I had never been that scared in my life before, as the darkness closed in and heavy snow began falling and wiped out the trail, but after sliding down a short hill into some trees on my back I saw the cabin’s single light, dragged my butt to it and there was Rick, giant smile on his face and offering me a beer. Nothing ever tasted as good, and the smiles of Rick and Joe as I recounted what I nimrod I’d been warmed me like nothing else. A few days of hardcore turns followed, also scaring the bejesus out of me, and I knew I’d found a lifelong buddy.
He returned to Middlebury the next year, and the stories that came out of the 4th floor corner room in Lang are too numerous, if not ridiculous, to catalog here. We’ll all be recounting them soon together! Rick’s studies in the tiny, but prestigious, Middlebury Geology Department started him on a path to becoming a force in geological exploration around the world, and I’m incredibly proud that I was able to associate with him.
After graduation, as he headed off to Denver and then Michigan, we stayed in touch, and in 1984 we met up again in Denver for my first western US trip, first to Crested Butte for the Al Johnson, and then to Salt Lake, where I began meeting the wonderful and wide circle of friends who also found themselves utterly entranced by Cards, and who I adore more than anything in this world.
A couple of years later, Pete Frew, Midd.’80 like me, began joining Rick and I for Salt Lake spring trips, and these continued for another dozen plus years. Pete and I became “Darryl and Darryl” and each voyage eclipsed the previous one in memorability. We’ll be reliving these also, I’m sure, but sincere thanks have to go out to Carlos and Laurie Braceras for putting us up during several of those years! How you two could put up with The Colons coming to town with such acceptance still amazes me.
I made a few more solo trips after Pete became more family-life organized, but I then ended up finding ways to convince myself that visiting was just impossible, a foolish notion that seems crazy now, and perhaps I was. Only last year, after the most incredible birthday party I’ve ever attended, Cards’ 50th, took place in “Mob” did I finally head back out for just a couple of days with Rick. He’d become even more electric, and his abilities on skis and his daily conditioning regimen were awesome to behold. Watching him make those powerful, wide-stance turns was literally inspiring, every time. It felt so good to see, it was like he wasn’t born into air at all, but into water, frozen or liquid. He never mentioned a thing about my slowness and inability to keep up, but just stood there calmly waiting with a trademark enormous smile and swinging his arms to stay warm as I struggled down…or up.
I’ll always even remember the late-night arrivals and departures at the airport, where a big hug would await my arrival. I really wish I could give him one more, and tell him how much I love him. No one who ever met him will ever forget the experience. His loss will weigh on me the rest of my days on this Earth. Love you deeply, Suckah!
Rich Lennon
Walpole, NH
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