James B. Ricks, III writes " 10/23/01 Murphysboro, IL My sister Carter called me Monday night @ 7 PM CDT with the news that the OM had passed away. Pop had been sick since before Mom died back in '96 with prostate cancer, and after she passed on, he decided to discontinue his treatment. Being raised with lots of his logical thinking and common sense in tow, we kids gladly honored his request, knowing that he was probably not going to change his mind about the matter. He was stubborn like that. I remember walking down the basement steps at the house on Marcy Ave. (for the third time in 10 minutes), to retrieve him from the clutches of the incessant, hypnotic clamor of 50-80 WPM code that obliterated TV reception in the house (due to 'noise' from a poor antenna feed, he'd tell me) when the keyer fired off an XMIT, to get him to come up for dinner. His index finger would go up, signaling me that he was copying. After about 20 seconds, he'd say 'OK' without looking at me, still in the midst of a reply. He was 51 when I was born in '66, so there was always an age difference between us. I was never the eager student he was as far as propler schooling was concerned, but I learned early that when was explaining something, I'd learn a lot. We had a saying in the house, 'Ask Jim what time it was, he'd tell you how to build a clock' . Not suprising from a guy who was a structural and design engineer. He moved out to Seattle to live closer to my sister. While he wasn't on the air much past '97, his passion for radio was aparrent to not just us, his family, but also to most of his newer friends down here in Southern Illinois. As for me, I've lost the one real hero I had (the way it should be, dammit), but feel extremely lucky to have had him to aggravate all those years. God bless you, Dad -- and have a cold 807 with Mom for me. Sincerely, James B. Ricks, III Carbondale, IL"
