"Big Rick"

Imagine spending your childhood in a subdivision with 25 to 30 other kids your age, a year younger or a year older, all living within a three block radius. That was my neighborhood, Avonmore in southeast Edmonton and for me at least, life couldn't have been better.


Combine the abundance of like minded, similar aged boys with immediate access to wide open athletic fields, community skating rinks and a wild but explorable ravine and you've created the perfect backdrop for a childhood full of activity and adventure.


There were always friends available to walk with you to school, hurl spit-balls at once you were there, hang out at recess and of utmost importance, take part in every kids game or sport known to man, along with a few we made up. To summarize, I had a terrific childhood.


While everyone played with everyone else, certain people connected with others to form friendships. There were two Ricks in our group; Rick Adams and Rick Cruickshank. As young Mr. Cruickshank was a fair bit larger than Mr. Adams, he quickly became known as "Big Rick"; a label he never cared for but voiced no objection to. In those days political correctness wasn't in anyone's vernacular but I know we tried not to be hurtful.

From the age of 9 or 10 right up to high school, we played sports all year long. There was hockey in the winter, field hockey with splintered sticks and tennis balls in the spring, then baseball and football through the summer and fall. This was strictly pick-up stuff; no parents, no coaches, just kids.

One year we all decided to ask our parents for a $5 Mill Creek Pool Summer Pass as a reward for getting promoted to the next grade. We spent every summer day at the pool. Monday through Sunday, rain or shine, we'd show up at 9:00 a.m. sharp, then swim and play until they vacated everyone to clean the pool and grounds at noon. We'd retire to the surrounding grounds, scarf down our bag lunches and be ready at 1:00 p.m. to repeat the activity until they threw us out again at 4:00. During one of these halcyon days, I bonded with "Big Rick".

We'd just returned from lunch when some big clown I'd never seen before decided I should go out on the pool deck "sans bathing suit". I fought the guy as best I could but a seventy pound eleven year old doesn't normally fare well against a fifteen year old weighing in around a buck forty. As I neared the door, I heard my friends yelling at this guy to stop, to let me go, but no-one moved. Under the circumstances, I couldn't blame them. Then I caught a sudden movement out of the corner of my eye.

I knew "Big Rick", everybody did, but we'd never had much to do with one another. Yet here he was, stepping right up into the face of this Neanderthal. Big guy or not, Rick was a few inches shorter than my tormenter. He was not, however, intimidated. Before I could blink, Rick slammed his knee into the guy's groin, the bully howled in pain and released me instantly. I somehow got my trunks on and we all scrambled out the door and into the pool before anyone could react. The bully appeared moments later but he limped past us with neither a look nor a word.

Several things happened that day. As this took place in front of at least 10 kids from our neighborhood, "Big Rick" attained instant legend status, deservedly so. The incident would be verbally described for years to come by people who were there, people who weren't and people who wished they had been. Next, he became my best friend. Finally, other than the occasional "push-me-pull-you" melee, that was the closest thing to a fight involving Rick any of us ever saw. Given his efficient yet vicious reaction to a dire situation, no-one was about to test him.

With his size and his ability to handle himself, it might have been easy for Rick to be a bully but as I'd discover, it simply wasn't in his character. Still, he was a very different kid. In many ways Rick was like a 40 year old man trapped in a 12 year old body. While I was a Gordon Lightfoot/Bob Dylan "folkie" and almost everyone else I knew was into rock music, Rick favored Percy Faith and his Orchestra and you'd often hear him humming "Theme From a Summer Place" or some Sinatra classic. We were all about white tees, sweatshirts and jeans. Rick preferred pleated khakis, sweaters and dress shirts with button-down collars. We wore ball caps while for years, Rick sported a god-awful plaid "tam-o-shanter" golf hat my Dad gave him!


Big Rick was an exceptional athlete, certainly more gifted than me, but he took part in our pickup baseball or football games only occasionally. You'd be more likely to see him hitting dead straight nine irons for hours at a time along the crest of Mill Creek ravine. I wanted to play in the CFL. Rick wanted to win the Masters. Neither of us knew why we were friends and neither did anyone else, but it just kind of happened.

Rick and his older brother Bob were both adopted and unfortunately, they never got along. They seldom fought but they barely acknowledged each other. Rick's Mom and Dad were gentle, soft spoken people. I particularly remember marveling at what a genuinely nice man Rick's Dad was. He treated us all with utmost respect, like we were "little adults" rather than kids. I loved spending time at their house.

Alternately, my house was a zoo. It was me, my "outspoken" Mom, my Dad and my baby brother Bruce at home. But I had three grown married brothers with 6 kids between them, and it seemed like some or all of them, including their wives, were either there or on their way over. I longed for Rick's peace and quiet while he absolutely reveled in my chaos.

Most kids were intimidated by my Mom. She seldom missed an opportunity to voice her opinion, in a loud and direct tone, solicited or otherwise, the recipients feelings be damned. For reasons I never understood and still don't actually, Rick adored her and Mom, along with my older brothers, their wives and even their kids, always had a soft spot for him too.

My Dad was a gifted golfer, Rick idolized him and his feelings were reciprocated. Dad openly admired Ricks smooth, unhurried golf swing. Selfishly, I was relieved because their common interest took pressure off me to learn a game I didn't understand or appreciate until I was into my fifties, unfortunately long after my Dad's passing.

We both enjoyed looking after Bruce. A "surprise" to my parents, he'd arrived with little preamble. I remember Rick was worried during my Moms pregnancy, given her age. We were both concerned about not being able to "do as much stuff" once the baby arrived. To our amazement, once he finally showed up we both loved toting the little guy everywhere we went. Bruce spent many afternoons bundled up in his stroller, watching Rick and I toss a football back and forth or hit pitching wedges toward one another.

We took him to his first "kiddie's matinee". We were delighted to introduce him to the world of Looney Tunes, Quick Draw McGraw and, God forgive us, the Three Stooges by taking him to the Palace Theatre on Whyte Avenue for the Saturday matinee. Rick genuinely cared about Bruce. He looked at Bruce as the little brother he never had.

We went through elementary and junior high together but while Rick attended Bonnie Doon Composite High School in south Edmonton, I opted for Alberta College, downtown. We tried staying in touch but differing priorities, social circles and scholastic goals soon got in the way and the contact slowly eased off.

I married at 21 and of course, Big Rick was my best man. We sensed this occasion would mark some sort of passage for us, and while we enjoyed ourselves and celebrated the moment, it did. Except for one uneventful evening visit three years later, we never spoke again.

I tried to contact him a few times. Eventually a close mutual friend told me Rick felt his childhood had been extremely unhappy, and in many ways, it had. Further, he'd told this friend he was determined to avoid contact with anyone from those days and, Rick being Rick, he's done his trademark thorough job of it.

I recently found Rick's daughter Therese via Facebook, and it upset me greatly to find my dear old friend in poor health. That said, I take comfort in knowing he's not alone. He still has his wife and his amazing daughter has moved back home to help care for him, and for that I'm thankful as well. I understand time spent with his granddaughter is doing wonders for him; no surprise there.

Theresa tells me after discussing my wish to see Rick once more, he still has no interest in contacting me or anyone else from his childhood and in all honesty, I'm fine with that. I respect his decision.

So old son, this one's for you. Thanks Big Rick, for memories of a simpler, easier time. I'l never forget you.