Posted: July 9, 2007
Mark Stirling - "Sterile"

Ricky "Rat" Russell.
When a tree falls in the forest, does anyone hear it?

We all know people that do it, you can see it in their eyes when your talking to them. Heck, I use to catch myself doing it all the time. I try to do it less now and it's all got to do with Rick...... Listen but not hear.

I have him hanging on my wall in the office with a little bit of stuff hanging off the picture of him, and a little bit of stuff hanging off of that, and stuff hanging off of it, and believe me, that reminds me of him. Anyone that's traveled or slept or worked with him knows what I'm talking about. It's the way he lived at his house, in his truck, at his camp, and its the way he collected information and FRIENDS...random and in the wildest place. Most of us thought he was a "little bit" of a pack RAT but he was more organized in his enviroment than most knew.
Ricky? He just knew. It was all in his head.

You didn't have to really know Rick, you just needed to be associated with someone who really knew him, and somehow he would remember, where we were, why we were there, how it happened, and tell you the story of how he met you, and just in case you forgot,he'd tell you the same joke that he told you when we met, again and again and again and laugh like hell. A full head throw back, mouth wide open laugh.

Thats my problem and where the story starts. I have a lot of memories with Rick. When I was in school I spent a lot of time talking with, and about him, to a lot of friends, cause thats just the way it was. He made an impression on people, so it just stands to reason that I would know a lot about him.... I don't mean the stuff that we all know, camps, competitions, what each of us drank, what we drive, nicknames for the last 5 years, who looks better nude, you know, what we all talked about, BUT..........

I mean the serious stuff........ and thats the difference, Rick knew all the important stuff about me, like where I lived, and how to get there. He knew my wife good enough to call and spend 30 minutes on the phone and all I would get was 10 minutes. Each of my kids names,and how old they were...and they knew him. Where I grew up and who my brother was - he only met him once. My mom and dad's names, and he never met them........ The S.O.B. actually knew me BUT, I didn't know him.

I thought I did..... He listened and I guess didn't. I didn't know how much I didn't know untill I got the call.

Rick just had a way about him. He listened, cared for, and remembered more than any one man should about each of us.

I go visit him fairly often and he'll hang on my wall forever. I still talk about him all the time. People see his picture, and want to know why all that stuff is hanging off it and it starts a story about a guy I knew, and how he knew something about everybody and how ... the most important lesson "the coach" was able to teach me came after his passing. LISTENING.

We all know him as "Ricky" our "woodsmen coach" and a good "friend". Glasses in the air for my good friend.

Mark Stirling - "Sterile"

Posted May 28, 2007
Peter Morse

I first met Richard Charles Russell in the fall of 1977 during Frosh at NSAC. He was Barry Russell's little brother, yeah right,....little!! I had only heard of Barry and the famed Woodsman teams, at that time.

When I first met this big, fuzzy, lumbering, loud person I didn't quite know what to make of him, until I went to my first Woodsman tryout, then I realized what he was all about. The guy will not quit! We would run laps around the bloody cornfield and he would keep going and going and going. That was Rick. Never quit what you've started whether as a Woodsman or in life, just keep going. I would have to say he carried that through to the end.

Rick and I spent 2 great years at NSAC as friends and teammates the good times we had are to numerous to mention whether it be frying steaks at 10:00pm Sunday evening after he returned from a weekend at home, road trips to where ever we decided we would go, or Woodsman trips to UNB and MacDonald College, we all have special memories.

I was Rick's first tenant at the house on College Road and yes the door was always open. He always believed the more, the merrier.

From the NSAC Schooner Softball Teams to the many Woodsman teams Rick was part of as either coach, participant, or both Rick had that special quality to make friends where ever he went.

I remember the day I received the news the rest is history and memories.

Thanks for the memories Rick.

Peter

Posted October 18, 2005
Joyce (Goodwin) Remley

It's hard to believe that Rick is gone. I met Rick shortly after starting at NSAC in January 86 on my first trip to the swine barn; when walking thru the door,he was chewing out a student for something....I really didn't want to find out cause I figured that he would eat you for lunch if you "pissed him off". But over the next 4 years as I got to know Rick as a friend, I discovered the most warm and caring person I had ever met. Rick touched so many people over the years, many of us never realized just how much. He will be missed, but never forgotten. I read this quote recently that I know Rick would have laughed at:

"Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting WOW...what a Ride"!!

I miss you my friend. Gone but never forgotten.

Posted April 14, 2005
Brent Wallace

I first met Rick Russell in September 1981, shortly after arriving at NSAC. One of my neighbors in Fraser House introduced me to Woodsmen and the “coach”. I made the team (barely) and had the Woodsmen related experiences that so many others have shared with Rick before and since.

A couple of years later I moved on to MacDonald College, but I kept in touch through Woodsmen, and I took some scuba-diving courses during a summer that I spent working there. Rick had started diving sometime in the early eighties. I landed a job that led me to Truro and found me renting a room at the “Hotel Russell”. Rick and I discovered that we had this passion for scuba diving in common, and our friendship grew. As the years passed we spent more and more time together enjoying scuba diving, hunting, and fishing. It was always an adventure when I headed out with Rick. I knew that it would be exciting and fun, and I looked forward to each and every time. I have many wonderful memories that I know will always be with me.

Rick was one of the most capable people that I have ever known. He always seemed to be in control of the situation. Many times we found ourselves facing challenges of various degree; from the time that we arrived ashore dead tired from a long day of diving only to find that the truck would not start, to the time that the outboard motor died three miles offshore. I was always glad that he was with me in those challenging situations. He always had confidence, and hope, traits that he kept right to the end.

One afternoon last May, Rick and I were in a boat, fishing in Fountain Lake. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining brightly on the lake. The water was sparkling and calm. Rick said “What a great day to be alive and what a great way to spend it! You know Brent, I wake up every morning and thank God that I’m here to enjoy another day.”

I knew Rick for twenty-three years. He was a true friend, and I miss him, but I am thankful for the time that I knew him, and I take something positive from the way that he lived and died, full of life and hope.

Posted March 17, 2005
Marlene Hiltz

We all lost a special person on July 3, 2004, but we can kept him alive by getting together and sharing our memories of Rick. He made AC a special spot for all of us who knew him. For that I would like to say

"Thanks, Rick. We miss you."

Posted Jan. 28, 2005
Alicia Parsons Lushington

Legends Never Die

On Sunday, July 4th, 2004 around 8:30am my husband checked our phone messages. He asked me to immediately return a call from a friend. I didn’t have to.... I knew. I made the phone call anyway, “We lost Rick last night”. Woodsmen all over Canada and beyond spent Sunday on the phone tracking down old friends and I was no exception.

I first met Richard C. Russell in February of 1992 at the NSAC Woodsmen Competition. That was the year before I came to AC. I remember thinking, “Who is this loud, big, old guy anyway?” Someone told me that he was the coach of the team. Rick would have been just over 30 then, not an age I find old anymore. After I came to AC and joined the Woodsmen Team, I began to realise that this big, loud guy was not just a coach but THE coach. He’ll hold that title forever for me.

I have many memories of Rick over the years. From the look of pride on his face and tears of joy in his eyes when we did so well at our first competition, to the way he thought he could cure my fear of heights by dropping me from the climbing pole and catching me before I hit the ground. From my first taste of his barbeque (it was chicken that had been partially cooked for a function before being rained out and he finished it for us at his house) to my last taste at my wedding last summer. From the way he accepted that his house was a gathering place to the way he quietly got up and left a party in his own house to go to bed.

Death is a very hard thing to comprehend. It is especially confusing to understand why such a young and vibrant person is gone. It has never seemed simple but never has it seemed so complicated as when I saw death through the eyes of my child. There has been a few occasions to explain death to my son over the years and he seemed really accepting of it. He asked lots of questions and we explained our views as well as other views he may encounter. We thought he got it.

My son is 6 years old. He didn’t know Rick well. When I got the news on Sunday morning I explained to him that Rick had died, “... you know, the guy who chops wood and cooked the pig at our wedding last summer ...” “Oh, yeah” he said. “He wore all white and looked like a cook didn’t he?” “Yeah, that’s the guy.” I said. “Was he there the time ---- cut his head with the axe?” he asked. “Yeah, that’s the guy.” “Oh” he said, “I’m sorry about your friend, you must be sad.”

When I got home after the funeral it was late and I was tired. I went to say good night to my son. He asked me if I got to see my friend again. I reminded him that when someone dies you don’t see them ever again. He looked at me funny. “That’s not true” he said. “Legends never die.” I don’t know why he said it or where he got it but I know a few people out there who probably think the kid had a point.

Posted Jan. 5, 2005
Ann Raper

This is a large fish which my husband, Harold Raper, had professionally carved at our camp at Fountain Lake in NS this fall. This was a project that he and Rick planned all last winter and were going to do it together during the summer. The fish now overlooks the lake and is a fitting tribute to a fine friend who enjoyed many happy hours at this camp.

Posted Nov. 9, 2004
Stirl "Jr"

I want to tell you a story; this story is about a ship. It was a small ship, and a small crew manned it. Only this ship was special, it didn’t act like a small ship, you see, the ships captain was the most fearless captain around. This ship would sail around and attack any it would meet. Every time they would find a ship the lookout man would cry down to the captain; “Captain, there is a ship ahead!” and the captain would call to his first mate, “Mate, bring me my red shirt, and we will attack this ship!” So he would bring the captains shirt, and they would attack the ship and win. This ship fought against the largest ships, against the most unbeatable odds, and would win, and always before every battle the captain would request his red shirt. One day after a particularly hard battle the first mate approached his captain: “Captain, may I ask you a question?”
“Yes first mate, you may,” said the captain.
And so the first mate said “Well Captain, I have fought beside you for many years, through many battles, against the most unbeatable odds, and we have never lost. But I have just one question… why do you request your red shirt before every battle?”
To which the captain replied: “Well first mate, we are a small ship, and therefore our odds of winning are also small, so I need my men to feel confident, and to do that, they must trust me. So when I am wearing my red shirt and I get hurt my crew doesn’t see me bleeding, I can be fearless, my men only see that I am still fearless, and that brings them courage, and they fight, and they don’t give up, and we win.”
Just then the scout looks down to the captain and cries “Captain, there are ships ahead… 4 maybe 5 of them… and Captain, there must be 50 CANNONS!!”
Distinctively the first mate gets up to get the red shirt when the captain stops him “Mate, bring me my brown pants as well.”

Leaders are people who overcome in the face of adversity; they inspire others to succeed even if not for themselves. They have a passion for life; they are charismatic, courageous and fearless.

Rick Russell always wore his red shirt (and I’m sure, his brown pants when need be). Ricky even to the day he died never let his team see him hurting, he was an amazing friend, a dependable teammate, and a courageous coach. He never let his team down. For 25 years the NSAC woodsmen team was on top, or never far from it. The team is one of the most respected and feared teams in the intercollegiate division, and it was our captain who made it that way. Ricky was the first one to tell you: “I am not the best.” Although we knew the old man was lying.
One day after a particularly hard practice I went to Rick to get help, the first thing I said was “I can’t do it, I am just not good enough.” He just looked right at me and said: “Stirl, no body has enough skill to succeed on skill alone, everybody who wants to be a champion needs to believe they can do it, and then, only then can they be successful.”
(I think that was the only real serious thing he ever really said to me?!!) After that, I knew what he meant when he said that he wasn’t the best. That was just part of who he was, part of his charm… if you didn’t understand something, he would explain it to you in a different way. That’s just what good leaders do.

I know that everyone who’s here has been touched by him in some way, even if you never actually met the man, stories of Rick Russell go further than most would think.
So I don’t want people to be upset. I want people to follow in his example; I want people to do what they can for themselves and even more for everyone else.

To the woodsmen team of 2005, I want you to go to your competitions with a red shirt on, and when your successful raise a glass to your coach, and when your scared, just think of him and have courage. He’d do it for you.

For inspiration
For gratitude
Out of respect
I love you Ricky!!

Well, it seemed like every Saturday for the rest of that summer, Rick would come into Walkers to buy some sort or wire, metal, screws, whatever, and then “bug” me about joining the team. I did tell him that I’ve never touched an axe, saw or chainsaw in my entire life – Heck, I had two brothers so I’ve hardly ever touched a lawn mower at this point! – Well that did not seem to matter to Rick. “Come on out to tryouts and see if you like it!” he repeatedly would say to me.

I guess all those Saturday morning conversations did me in, as I showed up for that team meeting Rick always started each year with. He talked of the sport, the friendships, the hard work, the team work and the years he personally has dedicated to the sport, as it was a passion of his. From that next day at tryouts, and every other day that follows, woodsmen has been a part of my life. From that first two grueling weeks of tryouts, leaning how to chop and saw, the many life long friendships I have gained, and last but not least, I met the man I want to spend the rest of my life with on the NSAC woodsmen team. Nothing but wonderful memories.

Today, I think of my three great years playing woodsmen for NSAC. (I am now kicking my butt I never tried out my 1st year!) I think of the five years I’ve been able to call Rick not just my coach, but also my friend. Rick coached me on many different levels, woodsmen being only one of them.

I give Rick the credit for my passion for woodsmen. Even though I’ve graduated and am now an “alumni”, I haven’t stopped competing. I love the sport, I love the adrenalin it gives you, and most of all I love the personal satisfaction you feel when you step off your block with a personal best time. If it wasn’t for Rick the summer of 1999, being the big, fuzzy, bubbly man that he was, I would never have joined the NSAC Woodsmen team and probably would have lived my life not knowing that such a passion existed inside of me.

I thank you Rick for being the coach that you were and the friend that you are. Thank you for showing me the “ropes”....for insisting I wear chainsaw paints when doing wood jobs.... for taking the time to get to know me on a friendship level....for finally understanding my fear of June bugs....for showing me that the best things in life really are free. I miss our talks, our heated debates, our Wednesday night suppers, our time spent together. Always thinking of you.

As a fourth-year Animal Science student, I was sent to the swine barn to talk to Rick about my project. He proceeded to take me under his wing and teach me everything he could - about pigs and, in his own way, about people. That knowledge and experience is priceless.

In true Rick fashion, he let me know that he was proud of me, not only for my work in the swine industry, but for whatever I did, and I will always hold that dear. But he was Rick, and so he also let me know when he was disappointed in me, and I learned a lot from that.

I had a very understated relationship with Rick. That hardly seems possible, but I don't know any other way to describe it. The things that were not said, on any topic, are as important as those that were.

He was larger than life. I dedicated my Masters thesis to him, and I think that the words I used there are probably best to say thank you and what I will miss the most:

To Rick: Thank you for sharing your knowledge, for your patience and confidence in me and for laughing at me when I needed it most.

What to write about a man who has touched so many of us in ways that many will never know nor understand…

Posted Sept. 29/04
from Sarah Turner

What to write about a man who has touched so many of us in ways that many will never know nor understand…Rick was a special person in the life of so many people. He had a way of taking us under his wing and challenging us to reach our fullest potential. As both his neighbour and a student in the swine barn during my final year at AC I learned a lot from Rick. His love for the swine industry was one of the leading influences in my career choice. He was always a voice of reason for me, a person that I could turn to for advice regardless of the topic and knew that at the end of the conversation I would be able to walk away with a clearer outlook on what it was I was troubled by. I will certainly miss the way he could bring me back to reality by calling me a “Cantankerous Old Biddy” (he would have used another B word here).

Rick was an amazing friend and a gifted teacher…I will surely miss him as I know many others will as well. However, it is a comfort to know there is a Guardian Angel with his strength and kindness looking out for us all.

As my degree progressed so too did my skills and proficiencies in the sport. Yet I still found it hard to gauge whether or not I had my coach’s approval as compliments were hard to come by. And despite our cool relationship I still very much desired to obtain Rick’s approval but wasn’t sure why?

It has taken Rick’s passing and my subsequent reflection on my time at NSAC in order to determine the reason for my desire of Rick’s approval. I received my first clue in my 3rd or 4th year when I saw another side of Rick. We had just won the Spring Meet Competition and our team was busy celebrating by cheering, back slapping and hugging. Meanwhile Rick was tucked away to one side of the room appearing to be unaffected by the win. As I moved closer to Rick I realized he was unsuccessfully trying to contain tears of joy.

Underneath the iron armour was an emotional side. Rick’s emotional side, I have come to realize, was not a chink in the armour rather the strength I had been trying to seek approval from. Rick’s strength was his passion demonstrated time and again when he devoted countless hours to a fledgling sport, to freely lending expertise and most importantly devoting himself to the people involved with the sport. From my experience I can not remember Rick expecting anything in return for his efforts.

I think this kind of demonstrated leadership is rare and it has inspired devotion of many woodsmen over the years, myself included. I still think about Rick regularly and can often feel myself doing things “double time” trying to live up to Ricks passion for life and always hoping for his approval.