We Lost a Warrior

By Chris Cimino

As I'm sitting down to begin writing this post, I realize my thoughts are still quite scattered. Those of you who have followed me over the last few years know I also started a podcast called Middle Age Warriors with my friend, Rick Sommers, right before the pandemic set in.

I recently celebrated my marriage to Edmi DeJesus here in the NY/NJ area with friends and family. Rick and his lovely wife Valerie were in attendance and I was so happy to see them there.

Rick was diagnosed with MS over 25 years ago. Recently he was having more and more difficulty with walking and many basic things we take for granted everyday. It meant the world to me, seeing him sitting amongst my other great friends and family on this happy occasion.

I had lunch with Rick just about a week before the wedding to catch up in a more one on one scenario. As Rick was losing some of his energy and focus we mutually came to the conclusion to shut down the Middle Age Warriors podcast after 100 episodes. While we frequently texted throughout the week, our actually seeing each other and conversing, as we did weekly for the podcast, was becoming fewer and farther between.

.. Our last Diner lunch..... he loved his diners.

I remember saying goodnight to Rick as the wedding was winding down and giving him the usual hug. As friends, we came to the point where would often end a conversation with an " I love you man". What I didn't know at the time, is that it was going to be the last time I would ever see Rick and say those words to him.

Edmi & I went on our honeymoon to Portugal and returned home about 8 days later. On the Friday morning I saw a voicemail from Valerie on my phone. While I am close to Valerie as well, random phone calls were not usual. Much of our contact would be couples dinner out or visits to each others homes.

I immediately became concerned that Rick was not doing well or had severely injured himself in a fall, which were happening more frequently.

When I returned Valerie's call, I was sitting in my garden which has become my haven for peace and tranquility. She very quickly said "I have to tell you something". What followed was I in no way prepared for. When I heard the words "Rick passed away, Chris." I remember feeling numb. I felt nothing at first. Maybe disbelief. I don't know. While I knew something might be wrong, I never imagined he could have died.

Our last texting exchange was as I was getting ready to leave for Portugal at the airport. It read, "hope you guys fly safe and have a wonderful, stress free journey!" We talked about getting together when I returned to compare notes on Portugal. Just another example of his neverending thoughtfulness.

As Valerie spoke, it went from a rather cool mechanical explanation of things, to where we both ended up trying to speak through tears. I just couldn't grasp it. The conversation started feeling like a horrific dream.

Without going into great details, apparently both Rick and Valerie contracted Covid and began feeling symptoms a little less than a week after my wedding. MS is a very tough illness. The longer you have it, your immune system is certainly compromised. Rick had previously had Covid, and while it put him in bed for a bit, he recovered pretty decently. Whether the protection from the last immunization had waned or Rick's MS was leaving him very vulnerable, the virus ran rampantly through him this time and he was gone in a few short days.

Just like that...... The reality of the finality of death, no matter how often I experience it, often too soon, just sends such a cold heavy weight onto my heart.

The death of a person is an event of sorts. There's the dealing with the shock, the sadness. A rapid attempt to reflect and start talking about memories and experiences with the deceased. You cry, you laugh, you might get angry. You might go through a wake and a service over a day or two where people are gathering. Sometimes it almost takes on a pseudo party or celebratory feel. Then everyone leaves and goes back to their day to day lives.

The true reality comes the next day, and the next one, and the next one and they are not coming back. That might sound silly to some, but if you've experienced the loss of someone close, that feeling of it being permanent is always a process for me that only time slowly eases.

It's been a few weeks now since I've heard the news and it still hurts. Edmi and I have occasionally found ourselves smiling or laughing over reminiscing about some of our moments with Rick. I felt like I needed to express more about this person. About our friendship. About him.

I made a quick post of some special photos we took together on social media, but I haven't really been able to express what I'm truly feeling. Hence, I'm trying here. I also intend on doing a final Middle Age Warrior tribute to Rick, but that is going to take me a bit longer to put together.

A bit of history about Rick and I. In the mid 1980's I worked as a broadcast meteorologist for a company based in Flushing Queens called Compu-Weather. One of our clients was WBLI a radio station out on Long Island. We provided weather forecasts for them and it was there that I first met Rick, as he would often be the DJ at the time of our weather report.

One of our other clients at Compu-Weather was Shea Stadium, home of the New York Mets. We would provide daily forecasts and updates during rain delays etc. In return, Compu-Weather received four field level box seats to every home game. They were used for clients, but often the staff would get the chance to go to a few games a season. I remember it being 1985 and I was given two tickets out of the four to go to a game.

I went with my Dad, but didn't know at the time who had the other two seats. I assumed it was just someone else from the office. Instead, when I turned around, it was Rick and his wife at the time. This was our first meeting in person. In the world of radio, unlike TV, you often don't know the face behind the voice. So we had to introduce ourselves to each other. In a strange way I was a little star struck. Rick was a well known radio personality across Long Island and I was excited to finally meet him in person.

We talked quite a bit during the game. We were all long suffering Met fans at that point. I do remember a foul ball knocking a beer out of his hand and joking about choosing priorities in that moment. When the game ended however, we went our separate ways and I rarely had any contact with Rick for years after.

Moving forward, in a more than 10 year period, both of our lives went in many directions. The year was 1997 I believe. I was asked to emcee an event for Holy Name MS Center in Teaneck, NJ. In what I thought at the time was a strange coincidence, Rick was sitting at my table. I remember him saying something about being a co-chairperson. With that, I assumed he was there supporting the MS center, which was doing some great work for those with multiple sclerosis.

We did a lot of catching up on our lives and careers. He was now with Valerie Smaldone, the most famous voice of Lite-FM in NYC radio. We had a nice day and promised to be better at keeping in touch. I left that day not knowing that Rick had recently been diagnosed with MS. In typical Rick fashion he humbly kept that to himself.

In the years that followed Rick and I would occasionally connect, but we were still far away from the depth of the friendship that was to follow. Rick had a plethora of various jobs outside of radio. He was the backup PA announcer for the Mets at Shea Stadium for a time. He did a stint at Madison Square Garden in the same capacity for the NY Rangers. In fact, I was always jealous of the fact that Rick was at game 7 when the Rangers finally ended their Stanley Cup drought.

A bit after that, I believe Rick was burned out by the broadcasting industry and he decided to go back to school for his Masters Degree in Social Work. Certainly a noble profession, but also typically not one in which you are buying fancy cars or second homes. I think this was the first time I realized there was something special about the character of this guy.

Rick was very excited about the concept of his working in a field where he could make a difference in the world one person at a time. He later would jokingly say, "well it's taking me a little longer than I planned". Rick's sense of humor always came through, even in some of the darker moments.

He didn't stay in social work for too long. His first stint, or at least the only one he told me about, was at an old age home. Here Rick dealt with people who were depressed or preparing to leave the world with some grace. I think that experience was tough on Rick, but at the same time, he would try and take something positive from it. Later on in working alongside Rick on our podcast, I did find he had a bit of a fascination with death and the process. I'm not entirely sure if it was from that experience or not.

In the Spring of 2009, Rick left social work and took a job with SAG-AFTRA. This is a union for actors/performers, but also for all news related on air folks. Rick took on the position of Broadcast Liaison. If anyone was ever cut out to be a liaison, it was Rick. His demeanor was always calm and stable. He was an amazingly good listener and knew how to be empathetic.

During his time at SAG-AFTRA our friendship really began to blossom. We would often meet for lunch outside his office building at The Smith restaurant and kick the can around about life. Dealing with the changes of values and perspective as we slipped into middle age deeper and deeper. Rick would often joke about calling ourselves middle age at 55 to 60 years old. He would say " I guess we are going to live to the ripe old age of 120". If only.

During our lunches we would often discuss putting together a middle age guys perspective type of talk show. We wanted it to speak not only to men, but to women as well, hoping we would learn to understand each other a little better as we evolved deeper into our lives. The "we" being men and women, not Rick and I, in case that was confusing.

At this point, both Rick and I were going through many challenges and changes. During those years, I lost my Dad to mesothelioma. My son had a battle with cancer. Then my wife was diagnosed with her rare blood cancer which took her from us in about 4 years from diagnosis.

Rick was always there to listen and support. The thing I learned about our relationship during those years was just how great a listener he was. How much he genuinely cared. During those life struggles you also have feelings and thoughts you are not always proud of, or want to feel. Rick never judged. He always allowed me to feel safe and comfortable sharing those most personal things with him. To me, this is what truly defines a friend.

In the meantime his MS was beginning to show signs of progression. Eventually Rick gave in to using a cane for support. Then that became a walker. Then a walker on wheels and finally the "high end model" as he would call it, the walker with the seat, when needed.

Fairly early on in this challenge to Rick, something happened at the end of one of our lunches. We were seated outside and there were some cables that were covered by rubber mats. The cables were supporting the outdoor heaters. With the floor not being totally level Rick tripped and went flying face first into a table full of people. There was a brief gasp. Then my quick assessment, he was not outwardly injured or bleeding. Without missing a beat, he picked his head up and looked at everyone at the table, and in his driest cheeky tone said, "anyone know a good lawyer?".

Needless to say, that put everyone at the table at ease and they quickly came to his aid as did I. This was just a microcosm of what was to come and yet Rick never wanted sympathy or attention. He battled and continued to do his best to live his life "normally" and as fully functional as possible.

In the days when we could actually get together to record our podcast at my apartment it was always a fun event. We were both unemployed and really helping each other get through that uncomfortable phase together.

Unfortunately, like everything else, Covid hit and put an end to the physical gatherings. However, at least a few times a week we connected on Zoom calls and kept the podcast going.

My wife and I both had smiles on our face when we remembered how every time Rick visited, he would always come bearing gifts. Often rather abstract or random. It might be two pears and a bag of pea pod chips. Sometimes he would offer up a shirt he never wore, or a book he thought I would enjoy. It was always something. He would make me reach into the trunk of his car like a grab bag, never knowing what I might find until we got up into my apartment for the reveal. It was Rick. "I can't come to your home empty handed. It would be a "Shanda". It's a Yiddish word. Look it up.

One of the last things Rick helped organize at his position with SAG-AFTRA was coordinating a very special day for young people. He devoted an entire Saturday to mentoring young students interested in a career in broadcasting. It was a really inspiring program that Rick always invited me to be part of, along with many peers in the industry. Watching Rick's face fill with pride and a sense of accomplishment on that day, brought joy to my heart.

I honestly am still at a loss for words, although I've certainly just put down quite a few. I suppose I delved more into Rick's background a bit so you might have a somewhat better understanding of who he was.

He was a handsome and very talented man who's smile could light up a room. He was caring and empathetic to others, always extending a helping hand. However, in the end, what Rick was to me was just a pure friend. I treasure the time we spent together from watching a sporting event, sharing a meal, or recording 100 podcasts as a team.

Thank you Rick for your friendship, your love and thoughtfulness. The void you have left will hopefully be partially filled one day with the great memories you also left behind. Right now, it still hurts deeply.

Rest in peace my friend. I hope to one day see my fellow warrior again.