I cannot remember exactly when I met Richard Newman.
In high school I would be at my best friend Kim Smith's (Pellerin) house where her mother babysat the Newman boys. Richard would pull into the drive in a little Datsun truck and pick up his boys. I remember vividly how they were always so happy to see him.
I got reacquainted with him when Jeff and I married and settled in Franklinton. One of my first memories of Richard's playful side is when we were at a little gathering at the Franklinton Country Club pool. Without any warning, he picked me up from my chair and unceremoniously threw me in the pool. When I came up, he was so pleased that he had "gotten me."
Our relationship with the Newmans deepened as their sons played baseball for the FHS Demons. For eight consecutive years a Newman played, and Richard’s wife Marsha ran the concessions.
By then I had children, and Richard would often be at the games in his state trooper uniform, standing at the corner of the concession stand. Not much ever scared my boys, but Richard in uniform, pistol on his hip, watching an intense baseball game, was enough to scare two wild little Indians. They gave him a wide berth. Sometimes at gatherings at the Newman home he would slap his handcuffs on them and get them in line, all to giggles by my sons who realized he was really a softy at heart.
Richard fussed at me endlessly for driving too fast, allowing my kids to be loose in my minivan as I drove too fast, and every once in a while for fussing too much at an umpire. I realized years later that he had seen many things on his job, and he never wanted to see me in an accident and having the worst having happen to one of my children.
Once I was leaving their home at dusk and was in my usual hurry. They had pine trees everywhere, and I slammed into one when backing out. Stunned, I went to the door to call Jeff and let him know (this was before cell phones). I wondered how on earth the Newmans didn't hear my crash. When I walked in Richard was about to roll on the floor he was laughing so hard, with Marsha and the boys joining in. So much for a compassionate law enforcement officer!
However, when our friends Robert and Linda Crain suffered a home invasion and one of the suspects was reportedly hiding in my neighborhood, Richard personally came to my house to reassure me that I was safe and checked around my yard and shed. I was home alone with my young boys, and he knew I was terribly frightened.
Richard also fussed about how many projects I assigned to his boys when I taught them in school, and how my class was the topic of conversation at most dinners at the Newman home. Deep down, I know he appreciated the hard work I assigned and that I was a teacher who loved and cared deeply for my students, especially Scott and Ricky.
Richard was an avid fisherman and when he was still driving, he would ask my son Clay to go with him. Clay loves to fish and enjoyed the time with Richard until he got the truck and boat stuck and "turned into a pumpkin" with Clay having to take charge. Thankfully, "Big Dave" Pettit would come immediately and pull them out. Richard once told Marsha that he could not believe he was fishing with "little Clayboy," but they had some great talks out on the water.
For the past 20-odd years Richard bravely fought a battle with Parkinson's Disease with his dear wife Marsha beside him every step of the way. Many of us never really knew how seriously his condition was progressing because Marsha was always so positive and upbeat about it. She took the term "caregiver" to a new level and was with him every second of his journey. Just this past summer, barely able to walk around much, he came with Marsha to my son's engagement party so that he could meet the bride. He and Marsha were not able to stay long, but I am so pleased that he exerted the effort it must have taken to climb up the steep steps of our deck and welcome Emily to our Franklinton family.
Some will have not such fond memories of Richard, and that is partly because of his stern demeanor and his likely having written them a ticket. I will not remember that Richard. I choose to remember that "trooper-dog" who stated his position and stood by it; who hated having to work in the French Quarter during Mardi Gras; who didn't mind me dropping his name when I was stopped by another trooper; who carried crockpots of chili in and out of the baseball field; who, when scarecrows became popular in Franklinton, recognized his clothes all around town where Marsha had made a scarecrow for a group.
I choose to remember his passion for his sons and their sports endeavors, his love for golf, and his respect for not only his own parents but his inlaws, Mr. Carl and Ms. Jerry Dick, who adored him as well. I choose to remember a grandpa who loved Brooks, Natalie, and Audrina more than he knew was possible. I choose to remember a devoted husband who loved his high school sweetheart until his very last breath. I choose to remember that as a law enforcement officer, he was willing to put his own life on the line every time he got into his unit and drove away to work.
It is tough to say goodbye to a friend. Farewell Richard Newman. Thank you for your service and Godspeed.
Richard Newman obituary: www.era-leader.com/obituaries
