I have so many vivid memories of Rickey. Most of you have known My sister over the past seven years, since she and Bob moved to Fayetteville, so I thought you'd like to hear about her earlier life. Our parents, Syd and Bella Ryman, were born in Toronto, and raised their family there. I'm the firstborn and Arthur came along just 16 months after, but Rickey was born over four years later, when I was 5-1/2. She was always my baby sister and I felt very protective of her. As you can imagine, she was a gorgeous baby, with porcelain skin very much like Sarah's, strawberry blond hair that our mom combed into banana curls or ringlets, and twinkling blue eyes that stayed just as bright all her life. From the beginning, Rickey was vivacious, outgoing and sociable, always with a coterie of friends. She recently reconnected with Jody Kerzner, a special friend since they were five or six. I'd like to share part of Jody's message to Rickey. She writes:"You were my first best friend and I loved you in a purer, more simple way than I have loved any friend since. I remember how we loved laughing and our foot tickling contests. I remember sleeping with you in your single bed and giggling for what seemed like hours while Rhonda studied. I remember dressing up and serenading each other with Johnny Angel on the stairs in your house.You are the first person I knew with real strawberry blond hair—so much more interesting than my boring black. Your father was an audiophile—the first I ever knew—I still remember his blissful face as he lay on his couch in the living room with his headphones on listening to classical music. And your mother made chicken fricassee—a dish I still don't really understand. I remember her scolding me for bringing matzo crumbs into your house before Passover. Those were happy years, happy times.You live far away and we grew apart gradually. But when I think of the best moments of my youth and childhood you are in them and the love I felt then is still alive now."For me, that sentiment says so much about Rickey. She had a gift for happiness--for enjoying each moment and spreading that joy to everyone around her. Even when she married Bob and moved away to Massachusetts, Rickey kept us close to her heart. She never forgot a birthday or missed an opportunity to bring us souvenirs from trips abroad. She was a generous and empathetic gift-giver, who could choose exactly the right piece of jewelry or style of sweater. For years, we depended on her to pick our mom's birthday and Mother's Day gifts. But the greatest gift she gave us was the love she generated and inspired in her husband and children.A few days ago Bob, Sarah, Ben and I watched a video taken at our family cottage on Lake Simcoe north of Toronto. Ben was about 2 and Sarah 6. They were playing with their cousins Rachel and Emma out in the front yard. Ben was enjoying a vigorous ride on our hobbyhorse, Springer, and then on two chairs that he lined up to make a Choo-Choo train. The adults were relaxing on lounge chairs - all except Rickey, that is. When Ben tired of Springer, he coaxed his mom for a piggyback ride. I can't tell you how long the ride went on, but Rickey kept galloping around that yard, fueled by her son's squeals of delight. Then Ben wanted a fellow train traveller, so the two of them sat on those low kiddy chairs and did "all fall down" for another extended stretch. I don't know where she found the strength, but Rickey kept popping from the chair to the ground again and again, energized by Ben's exuberant laughter as only a mother could be. Bob and I agreed that we had never seen Rickey more relaxed and happier than during those family vacations at Lake Simcoe. Rickey was holding down a high pressure job at State Street Bank in Boston, but she and Bob made time to bring the kids to Canada every summer, so they could spend time with their Bubby and Zaidy, their aunts and uncles, and their dear cousins. I count those days among the most precious memories of my life, and measure my dear sister's life not by the number of days but by the love she gave
