As a child, walking through the squeak of the Sturgis gate, the thing that made my eyes most glad was Rich at shortstop. With his easy smile and always remembering some little thing you said last time, he made it like home; you mattered, you belonged. For a few years in the 80s I lived at 4th and 65th, from our little upper well/balcony a ball could be thrown and land on the Sturgis field. There, I listened to hear echoes of Rich singing, incongruous for our young ages, songs from the 40s, Rich made all of us laugh from the best part of ourselves, I think we all wanted to just go up to him and embrace him; maybe we did in a sense, children or not. Wish we could have gone on and on, on that field Rich? Sometimes I do too! Rich, who I close my eyes to see
John H. Michel
John H. Michel
