2-27-14 - Ward Ruscoe, like a brother

Farewell Ward Ruscoe whom I grew up with, dear friend and what a friendly guy. Died in his sleep early Monday morning February the 24th after years of dealing with prostate cancer. I first met Ward in the fourth grade and we became immediate friends. He spent a lot of time living in our house as we got older. I had twin beds and one of them was his. His mother was a teenager when he was born and he was often living with his grandparents who taught us to play bridge which we did a lot of, winning the first tournament we were in. I remember us coming home from school to go over chapters of bridge books, deal out hands and discuss them. Ward was smarter than me and better than me at everything including bridge. I played tournament tennis and he didn't play much but he could beat me anytime he did. He could have been a pro golfer - I didn't do golf. He was great at pool and pingpong. Excellent brain, hand, eye coordination. We started drinking and smoking together at fifteen but he quit way before I did. We both played guitar and sang songs and spent a lot of time exchanging them and playing together. We all enjoyed hearing him sing again in Fort Worth last year. I'm so glad I got to spend a lot of time with him the last couple of years when I was in Texas for months at a time due to my mother's age and eventual passing. One trip he built a step in the garage where the slab had sunk. He did it not just for mother but for all of us. Mother had called getting up there her exercise but finally, at 98, it got too hard. He was so close to mother and my sister Susan. Like a son and brother. The two trips to Houston, the last with Katrinka, were solid fun hanging out at home with Ward, his wife Beth and daughter Annie. He proudly showed us pictures of his daughter Carrie in the military in Virginia and told about how he cried when she went to Afghanistan and how he cried again, relieved when she returned - always heart on his sleeve. In high school when I wanted to talk to Ward I'd often just walk over to the phone, sit there and wait for him to call which, if I got that feeling, would usually happen within a minute. I kept getting the urge to call him recently and kept putting it off. I keep thinking, darn why didn't I but it really doesn't matter much in the big picture. As Einstein wrote in a letter of condolence, physicists know that all time is simultaneous and I'll paraphrase the saints to say what's actually real in us neither dies nor goes away. Once I said to Ward over the phone that it's weird how we hardly ever call each other. He said, "That's okay David. I always know how you are."

There will be a memorial service for Ward Friday evening, Feb. 28, 5:30 pm at St Mark's Episcopal church on Bellaire Blvd in Houston

Photos of Ward and daughters and us by Ray Rimmer