Dick Sam Alessio

To Frank, Mary ferrarelli and the extended Alessio family. We are saddened by the premature passing of your brother. He is now in heaven and no longer suffering, he will continue to love you from there as he always did while on heart. Our thoughts and payers are with you during this very difficult period.

Deepest condolences,

Biagio and Josie Oliverio

We were very saddened to hear of cousin Dick’s passing.
May he rest in peace.
Peter and Sarah Stambene

The way Dick handled his many health challenges with strength and courage should be an inspiration to all of us who were lucky enough to have known him. May he now Rest In Peace. Our sincere condolences.

Lui & Carmela Mazzei

Tribute to a Friend

I have had the good fortune to share a 50-year, close friendship with a remarkable person, Dick.

Dick had many incredible qualities. He was very outgoing and enjoyed the people around him. He loved a good prank, even if it was on him, and he instigated many himself. He was seriously concerned about the well-being of the people he cared for and was generous to those who were down on their luck. To me, his most notable quality was how, despite the physical challenges he had suffered throughout his life, he never let them define him.

I first met Dick in ‘73. I was at a mutual friend’s house when I heard the high-pitched scream of a small engine and then saw this little motorcycle barreling towards us. You see, Dick wasn’t quite old enough to get a driver’s license so he would get around on this noisy little Honda 50. I remember him getting off his bike and then trying to wiggle the helmet off. After some twisting and turning, the helmet popped of his head, and this mop of thick black hair exploded out from under it. He greeted me like he’d always known me, and like I should also know who he was. I remember noticing, even then, that he had an incredible confidence about him. We all spent the afternoon doing what young teenagers do… absolutely nothing and having a great time doing it. Then, with amusement, I watched him try to tuck all that hair back under his helmet, screwing the helmet back and forth until it squeezed back onto his head, and he rode off.

Eventually, Dick began attending the same high school I was at, and a group of us started hanging out together. We didn’t know it yet, but we were about to have the time of our lives. Some of us started getting cars, our parents were giving us more freedom (or losing control of us, depending how you look at it), and life was to become one big party that would last until our 20’s. We didn’t hold back for a moment. If we weren’t working or in school, we were together, out all hours, day and night. On the weekends, we wouldn’t head home until the sun was up, and it was often Dick who would suggest we go fishing or go have a coffee in Banff before going home.

My memories of those times are nothing short of joyful, but looking back now, I can’t help but think that, sometimes, the rest of us were a bit thoughtless not to consider that it must have been hard on Dick, physically. For anyone who doesn’t know, back then, Dick had both his legs but walked with a pronounced limp. Something was wrong with his foot, but we never knew exactly what it was. We tried asking him many times, but Dick was always vague in his replies. He would dismiss it as a slight inconvenience that would all be resolved with an upcoming surgery. He would then change the subject and ask you how you were doing, following up with, “what do you want to do? Are you hungry? Let’s go get something to eat!” Before you knew it, it was all about you. I believed that Dick didn’t want to be defined by “it” and he made sure he wasn’t. He did a good job of that. For the most part, that Dick might have had a physical problem or disability, never crossed our minds. Besides, he never stopped to rest, he usually walked so fast, you had to work to keep up with him, and I never ever remember him complaining or not participating in everything we did, other than possibly skiing or a few other sports. Even when he didn’t actively participate in sports, he was there and making friends with random people. Honestly, Dick could make friends with a serial killer.

On one such occasion, Dick got a lead on a party, and he decided we were going to crash it. Crashing parties wasn’t totally unusual, but we travelled in a bit of a pack, so our arrival caused a stir. The music stopped, and we were met with some hostility that looked like it was about to erupt into a full-blown fight. Dick stepped up and calmly asked our adversaries where they had met before. Confused, and wondering if they had actually met, Dick kept threading the story along until he found a common connection, and “bingo” we were all good.

Although we typically didn’t drift far from our usual hang outs, Dick would be the one to pull us out of our comfort zone with some crazy idea. One time he decided we needed to go to a bar. We were underage and a little apprehensive, but Dick had a way of talking everyone into agreeing with his ideas. Now, Dick was familiar with the bar scene, having been around his dads’ hotels, but to the rest of us, it was all new. This venture was both exciting, and terrifying.

Once we were sitting at a table, in a packed, grungy bar, Dick yelled out, “a round of draft” as a server walked by. He did it like he had done it 100 times before. The server promptly asked for ID, which was what we most feared. We all went wide eyed and speechless… except for Dick, that is. He calmly asked if the owner was in. Of course, Dick knew the owner’s name and that he wouldn’t be in. He went into some story of how the owner and his dad went way back and how they just had a beer together at his dad’s place. Then, in the middle of the conversation with the server, Dick stood up and yelled out, “Hey Bob”. Some guy looked up and Dick waved to him. We were all in awe and wondering how he knew this Bob guy. As it turned out, he didn’t. Bob obviously had no idea who Dick was either, but he figured he must know him, so he waved back. The server, looking just as confused as us, went and got our beer. Dick had confidence and an incredible knack for making people comfortable with him.

Seriously, Dick could talk his way out of anything…except speeding tickets and he got a lot of those. He drove his car like he drove that Honda 50. Because of all the speeding tickets he got and the situations he got us into and out of, he gained the nick name “Dick u-pazzo” which we just shortened to “u-pazz” (the crazy one).

Another one of Dick’s talents was getting deals, and Dick always “knew a guy”. As impossible as it sounded, “Dick’s guy” always came through. One time I was telling the boys that I had to buy some tools and was stunned at the cost. Dick says, “I know a guy who can get you some Snap-On tools… cheap.” I doubted this. Snap-on tools are the Rolls Royce of tools. They are not sold in stores, and you can only buy them from a handful of franchise owners. The next day, however, Dick showed up with the tools I needed, along with the Snap-On bill, all for a price that was less than it would have cost me to buy inferior ones. I was stunned. Dick just said, “I told you. I know a guy”, Those tools are still a prized possession in my toolbox. A few years ago, I was decluttering my basement and came across the Snap-on bill from back then. I couldn’t help but shake my head and just laugh to myself.

Dick did often go in for surgeries on his foot and would end up walking on crutches for long periods of time. You would think that during those times he would slow down, but no. He moved just as fast on crutches as without. The crutches also brought a new source of entertainment for all of us. If we weren’t hiding them on him, we were using them for sword fights or jousting matches, much to Dick’s amusement. The worst thing we use to do was “re-adjust” the crutches when Dick wasn’t looking, so they would be different sizes, or we would remove one of the screws so that when he leaned on it, the crutch would collapse. Looking back, it was probably mean, but out of everyone, he would get the biggest laugh out of it.

About 10 years ago I had a small procedure on my own foot, and I was given crutches to go home with. By the time I got to my car, which was parked right in front of the clinic, I was out of breath, my arms hurt, and I had just about fallen over 3 times. I couldn’t help but think about Dick, how we never gave him any special consideration, how hard it must have been for him, how he never complained once, and how well he kept up or even set the pace for us.

Dick was also very generous. If you were in need, Dick was always there to help you out, and I know he continued that practice throughout his life, especially when he was in the hotel business. Dick made many friends by being there for them when in need. With us, what was his, was ours, for as long as we needed it. One time, a few of us were going to drive down to Disneyland in Dick’s pride and joy, his 69 Chevy Impala. At the last minute, a long-awaited appointment with a top surgeon came up, and Dick had to cancel. Instead of asking us to change our plans or take an alternate, less-reliable vehicle, Dick insisted that we take his car for as long as we needed it.

We eventually all grew up, and Dick moved to BC. Shortly after, Dick’s leg was amputated below the knee. Talking to Dick, he told me everything was great, but I’d heard that before. I went out to see him, a few years later, and was stunned at how well he really was doing. With his prosthetic, he walked with no limp, and the few activities, like skiing, that he couldn’t do previously, he could suddenly do. During our visit, Dick insisted we see everything there was to see, and he was our guide. He drove us all over the place. According to Dick everything was just down the road, when it was actually a long way away. Dick still drove like a mad man, which made me somewhat nauseas but also made me smile and think “yup, still u-pazz”. The visit was like old times; a lot of fun.

We continued to see each other, every few years, and then the crushing news came in that he had fallen off a ladder and his leg had to be amputated, right up to his hip. I couldn’t help thinking how cruel and unfair it was for him to go through another setback. I know it was a difficult time for Dick and his family. I finally got out to see him, once he had recovered. I remember how I felt when he greeted me at the door. I was heartbroken to see him standing on his crutches with his leg completely missing, but he was in good spirits, and as we headed inside, I was again amazed at how fast he could manage going up those stairs. Going back down was horrifying to watch. He came off the top floor and onto the stairs without any hesitation and went straight down, like water flowing down a stream. He had to show me his modified car, and he still drove like u-pazz, which made me smile.

We kept in touch and saw each other on occasion, but then life seemed to get in the way and kept preventing us from getting together. I ended up moving to NZ, and covid restrictions kept me from coming back for 2 years. Whenever we talked, Dick would tell me everything was going really well, but something in his voice made me think I must swing by and see him on my way to Calgary.

In March of last year, after more than a decade, I finally saw Dick. I was struck at how much he had aged and how thin he was. He was no longer driving nor using his crutches. His only form of mobility was a scooter. I did smile to myself once we got in the house and I saw him zip around the coffee table, in-between the island and the kitchen table, full throttle, forwards and backwards. I thought, yup, still u-pazz.

I had a collection of music from our era that I had playing softly in the background while we sat at the kitchen table and spent hours catching up. Every time a song would start, he would look at me, and we would both smile as the flood of memories washed over us. Before I left, I found out from his family that he had been in the hospital for some time, and they almost lost him. I couldn’t believe I was still falling for the old, “everything is great brother, how are you doing” thing.

I was able to visit him in March and then again in July of this year. Even in the few months between visits, I could tell that he was still getting weaker and thinner. The last time I was with him, my wife and I actually saw him keel over with obvious, excruciating pain written on his face. My wife asked, “Dick, are you ok”? He straightened right up and said, “Oh-Yeah, good. Hey, do you guys want a drink? Come-on, pour yourselves a drink.” Typical Dick.

When we said good-bye, I was worried that it might be the last time I would see him. I told him I would be back in the spring, and he said he would hold me to it, but it wasn’t to be.

Hearing that Dick was back in the hospital and wasn’t expected to live more than a few days was heartbreaking for everyone, especially his family who sat by his side. But Dick, true to his character, wasn’t going to let doctors or any disability define him and fought on for 2 weeks.

Thinking about what he must have been going through brought tears to my eyes. I just couldn’t comprehend how he had the strength to keep fighting and then I got an image that made me laugh and cry at the same time. I envisioned an angel at Dick’s side saying “Dick, I am here to take you to a better place where you will have no more pain”. Dick looks up and says, “What are you talking about? I’m doing great! How are you doing?” Before long the bewildered angel forgot why she had come and left without Dick.

We were all hoping and praying that Dick would prove the doctors wrong and get well again and we are all saddened by his departure. But part of me is also relived that he will no longer suffer. After all, he gave me enough fond memories to last several lifetimes. Whenever I hear one of those songs, I will just close my eyes and think of Dick and re-live our time together.

Ritz