There were three lunch periods and ours was the last. And every day, in a loud, high-pitched, squeaky voice you could hear anywhere in the lunchroom, Ricky would be asking, “do you have any more lemon meringue pie?” Finally, the lunch ladies started saving a piece for Ricky. Ever playful and good natured, in junior high school and through the 11th grade, Ricky was a scrawny 98 pounder on the wrestling team. And then, almost overnight, Ricky grew tall, filled out, and with captivating blue eyes that appeared as though they could pierce your soul, along with his thick jet-black silky hair, turned into an Adonis. But not just physically, in every way Ricky matured into a very special, sensitive, caring, and enlightened spirit. Ricky was in my closest group of friends, and he was one of the first to go at the young age of 33. Mark, Doug, Dave, Paul, Scott, we all attended his funeral. After the burial, back at Ricky’s house, standing in the front lawn, we regaled each other with our favorite memories of Ricky, often laughing loudly. Others at the wake looked at us with a certain level of discontent, and we knew they were uncomfortable with our behavior. But that’s the way my group rolls - none of us would allow it to be any other way. And we know Ricky would have been saddened if it were otherwise. We are a playful group and will continue to be so in this or any other life. Serious we are, but we don’t take ourselves seriously. We all loved Ricky and are deeply wounded by his passing.