One of my favorite Russ stories involves gopher killing. Russ had a long-standing hatred of the gophers that had invaded the garden. Each time I would see him he would regale me with his latest stories about his attempts to eradicate the fat little rodents, and all the while Marge would be standing behind him waving her arms and trying to get him to stop telling me (the animal lover) about his murderous intentions. I watched him throw objects at them if he saw them in the garden, and once he even egged Kevin on to slam a golf ball toward one who had wandered into the yard. It’s scary to remember how close Kevin came to hitting the furry body with a Titleist. One day he went into great detail about how he got a gopher bomb, scoped the hill for gopher holes and plugged them all up, then slipped the bomb into what he believed to be the last remaining gopher hole. He took great pride in saying how he sat on his patio, lit a cigar and began to celebrate his victory against the vermin … except he missed one gopher hole. As he’s sitting there a mushroom cloud began to rise over the hill. I’ll never forget how his face fell as he exclaimed “It looked like Hiroshima on that hill!” Poor man. Each summer Rick declares war against a particularly stupid groundhog who insists on burrowing under the barn. The groundhog digs a hole, Rick fills it in, the groundhog digs it out again. Last summer Rick came home with the gopher bomb, and Russ’ Hiroshima story immediately came to mind. I hate to admit that I absolutely dissolved into giggles at the thought of Russ smoking a victory cigar moments before the mushroom cloud appeared.
It goes without saying that the hardest blows Jim, Kevin and I have been dealt are the loss of our dear parents. I remember how supportive Russ and Marge were during dad’s illness and after his passing, and how they always looked after mom when she was living alone. It comforted us to know that the best friends and neighbors anyone could ever hope for were just a few steps from mom’s back door. They were a huge support to us when mom got sick, and I honestly don’t know what we would have done without their comfort and support. We all knew that they put aside their own sorrow at mom’s illness and passing in order to be there for the three of us. We will never forget everything they did for mom, and for us.
It was shortly after mom’s passing that I was at the house, performing the horrible task of cleaning, sorting and purging. I was watching my boss’ black laborador at the time, and had him tied up in the back yard. I hear Russ yell “Hey Dorothy, is this your dog?” When I joined Russ in the back hard he was sitting with a grin on his face, playing with the dog and ignoring my red-rimmed eyes and sniffly nose caused by the obvious crying I had been doing in the house. Russ and I sat together for quite some time, chatting about life, catching up on all the family news, sharing stories about our parents and scratching the dog’s head. Somehow just sitting there together, chatting and drinking sodas and petting a dog, Russ made the most heart-wrenching task easier.
Russ was such a special person who will always be loved and valued and treasured by the Lee family as someone who was an important and vital part of our lives. The memories of him are innumerable; the impact he had on our lives immeasurable. Marge and Russ are so much more than friends or neighbors – they always will be part of the Lee family. I miss Russ terribly and think about him often. He taught us all a lesson in how to love life and live it to the fullest, how everything can be an adventure, how to turn lemons into lemonade. I cannot believe that he would have been 70 years old today – while the rest of us aged he seemed to get younger. I will never forget Russ running around with that silly grin on his face, finding everything exciting, neat or funny. I will especially getting the Russ hug – the big bear hug with the “Hiya sweetheart,” followed by him throwing his head back and giggling evilly, saying “Ahhhhh, I love it!” and giving his body a quick quiver. He will truly be forever in my heart.
/from Dorothy
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