RIP RICHARD PAUL TERHUNE II
My parents Richard Paul Terhune II and Gretchen Reiche Terhune. This is honestly the best picture I’ve ever taken. The second best is also of them.
My dad passed away on Dec. 10th, 2021. It was unexpected and honestly has flattened me. I rise but shaky.
My brother Peter wrote his obituary with some help from me and our other brother Rich. You can read it online here but I’ve included it below due to the PPH Paywall. Here it is:
FALMOUTH – Friday, Dec. 10, 2021, Richard “Dick” Terhune said goodbye to this world and strode into the light to rejoin the love of his life, Gretchen Reiche Terhune. Dick was 86 years awesome and a resident of OceanView in Falmouth. Despite the brief illness that laid him low at the end, he was a six-and-a-half-foot hunk blessed with good health, great humor, chronic curiosity and an affectionate, adoring personality that brightened the lives of his beloved family and many, many friends.
Dick was born on Jan. 5, 1935—Twelfth Night, as this literature lover liked to point out—at Doctor’s Hospital in New York City. The only son of Richard P. Terhune and Lillian Rauscher Terhune, he grew up on 496 Park Avenue in Leonia, N.J. Despite playing football and basketball at Leonia High sans spectacles, he managed to letter in both sports.
Dick graduated from Cornell University in 1956 with a B.A. in American History and Government. He was a proud member of the Lambda Chi Alpha fraternity, and an admittedly so-so student who had the privilege of taking Intro to Russian Literature with the pre-Lolita Vladimir Nabokov. He also completed the four-month 18th Program for Management Development at Harvard Business School in 1969.
Dick served for six years in the 7th Regiment of the New York National Guard, earning the rank of staff sergeant (as well as the nickname “Sergeant A-hole Giraffe”).
The most momentous event in his life occurred at a party in mid-town Manhattan in 1957, where he spied the beguiling auburn-haired Gretchen Reiche across the room and thought “I’m going to marry that woman.” And he did! Dick and Gretchen wed in Portland on June 21, 1958, under the adoring eyes of Dick’s mother, Gretchen’s parents Howard C. Reiche and Laura Christine Knudsen Reiche, and a baleful portrait of then-vice-president Richard M. Nixon.
After brief stints in Manhattan and Stamford, Conn., Dick and Gretchen settled in Darien, Conn., where they lived for nearly 50 years, and raised their sons Rich, Peter and Charlie, along with legendary housecats Widget, Runty, Amanda and Charcoal, aka “Mr. Cartmell”. Dick’s career was spent primarily in corporate banking and lending with a who’s-who of New York firms including the New York Trust Company, and the then Chemical Corn Exchange Bank. He retired in 1996 as a senior vice president and director of the BZW Investment Division of Barclay’s Bank PLC.
Dick was an elder of First Presbyterian Church of Stamford, Conn. and made many dear friends there. He served on the Investment Committee, and with Gretchen co-chaired the campaign to acquire the church’s noted pipe organ. Dick was also on the Board of Directors of the Darien Community Association. Following retirement and a move to Falmouth, Dick was honored to give back to the community as director and treasurer of the OcenView Residents Assistance Fund. And he felt blessed to be welcomed by Reverend Geoff Parker and the congregation of Foreside Community Church in Falmouth.
Countless hours absorbing anecdotes of colorful ancestors from his Terhune and Rauscher grandparents kindled Dick’s lifelong passion for sharing family lore. This culminated in The Ribbon-Weaver’s Son, a compilation of Terhune history spanning three centuries. It’s a fun, fast-paced read full of intriguing characters and poignant reminiscences. And the crisp, lively prose is the next best thing to hearing him tell you these stories himself. Dick had a strong sense of himself as just one participant in a multi-character story stretching backward and forward in time. In Ribbon-Weaver’s forward he wrote, “you are not alone!” That comfort-from-connectedness explains why he enthusiastically encouraged his family and friends to delve into their own histories. It was also at the heart of his deep faith and study of scripture. All three—family, faith and scripture—consoled, comforted and buoyed him up to the very end.
Dick is survived by his sons Richard P. Terhune Jr. and his wife Linda of Stamford, Conn., Peter Reiche Terhune and his wife Hilary of Portland, and Charles Robert Terhune and his wife Alice of Scarborough. Grandchildren include Richard P. Terhune III, Sarah Ann Terhune, James Emory Squiers Terhune, Benjamin Alexander Reiche Terhune, Penelope “Pea” Daisy Terhune, and Sophia Laura Terhune. He is also survived by his first cousin, Martha Finlay and her children Beth, Dana and Brad, and their lovely families. Last but not least Dick is survived and mourned by Barney “Fiercefang” the Hemi-Manx, and Susannah Squirrel and her extended family.
Dick was predeceased by Gretchen in 2019, who has been waiting for him to rejoin her so they can continue their loving journey together.
A funeral and celebration of Dick’s wonderful life will be held at The Foreside Community Church, UCC on Jan. 3, 2022 at 3 p.m. The service will also be available by live stream at http://www.foresidechurch.org by following the links to online worship. Dick will be laid to rest in Portland’s Evergreen Cemetery, rejoining Gretchen as well as her parents and grandparents.
Dick’s family is grateful for the expert, compassionate care he received from the staff at Maine Med’s Cardiac ICU.
I wrote a eulogy for my dad’s memorial service which is below. It was hard given that I haven’t written much in the last year AND how do you encapsulate your father’s 86 years of life into a five minute speech? It’s hard not to include everything you want to say. But here it is:
I want to tell you about Barney my parent’s cat or as I used to call him: the Hateloaf.
About eight years ago my folks got an absolutely adorable kitten with fur as soft and creamy as a fancy latte. Mom wanted to name him Chris since it was Christmas. Like all kittens he underwent more name changes than a rapper and Barney was what they agreed on, so called because he was born in a barn like my brother Rich who came with the house in Darien where I grew up.
Though orphaned as a kitten Barney arrived in my parent’s home aka Cat Heaven, the best place a cat could live this side of the Rainbow Bridge. Someone once told my Mom that despite being a devout Catholic they hoped reincarnation was real so they had a chance to come back as a cat living in my parent’s house. Cats ruled above all else in Dick & Gretchen’s home, their every feline whim and want catered to; felines ran amok on tables and countertops, bowls and glasses of water left everywhere to slake their thirst, fed at their desire by two good and faithful senior servants.
Such a place is where only a cat like Barney the Hateloaf could be loved despite earning that sobriquet swiftly. He wasn’t a lap cat, had poor manners and a stubby tail he wagged and swung like a caveman with a club when you got too close. As for the aforementioned creamy, dreamy soft coat? The only ones who could pet him without injury were grandchildren Sarah, Sophia and Pea. Whose to say why but they and they alone were deemed acceptable to lay a hand upon the sacred fur of his majesty Barnaducce. Nevertheless my folks loved him and kept him in this lifestyle to which he became very accustomed.
Obviously, life changed a great deal for Barney and Dad after my mom passed away. Perhaps he counted his beloved Friskies Buffet cans and - Oh, Barney that is not my Dad who was of course a Fancy Feast man - but Barney realized how good his gig was and changed it up. Because Barney the Hateloaf began to allow being petted. My father had his own blossoming despite his immense grief; I called this widower Dick Terhune 3.0. Dad took up writing and left us his wonderful book The Ribbon Weaver’s Son (in fact Barney has contributed a chapter to my Dad’s follow-up book). Dad took to prayer and writing while Barney took to demanding scrambled eggs at all hours, lazing around the house and occasionally rubbing at your ankles if he thought you were holding some Greenies.
Like Barney, my dad experienced the loss of a parent at a young age. Dad knew how the world was threatening and fearsome to a shy soul . Dad knew there were unforeseen things out there that could trip you up. He knew that despite others not understanding him, Barney was entitled to love, nurturing, and a home in which to laze about and glare at humans. And Dad believed it was incumbent upon him in accordance with his beliefs to do so not for Barney but for all.
When my dad went into the hospital I took over care and feeding for Barney. Though he still regularly hissed at me, others noted he was allowing any and all to pat him often without being bribed with his own body weight in Greenies. A softening occurred inside this being that others claim was already there though I’d never really seen it.
We used to joke about who would get Barney when my dad passed away. And on that sad day our daughter Sophia demanded we do so. It was hard to take him from the home he’d known all his years but we made space for him in our house. I’m sure Barney misses Dad like we all do but knows I am the son of grandmaster cat people and he’s in the next best place to my folk’s house. Now we’re servants to a feline master who has a loud purr, loves shoulder rubs and is a Hateloaf no more but a Loveloaf supreme!
You may be wondering what this has to do with the man we are here to remember and grieve for. And if you knew him, you knew Dad loved taking the long way to get to a short point. So just hold tight.
Recently my brother Pete shared with me his new motto. Be forewarned it comes with a “technical term” as Dad might say. The motto is this: “Be Like Dick, Don’t Act Like One.” A simple saying that gets more powerful as I strive every day to live up to the memory of this shy, brilliant and hilarious man. Dad believed in what he called “one’s sacred duty” which to him meant taking care of those you love as best you can. And no matter what, when I needed it most my father was there to help me. Because of this devotion to his sacred duty he and my mother were more loved and respected than I may ever realize.
As he lay there in the hospital enduring unimaginable pain and suffering he remained kind, loving, bright-eyed and funny as ever right up until his last breath. I often told him in those last days and hours of his life that he was the best of us. He’d shake his head “No” because he was a humble man, but it was true because he believed in living by Jesus’ teachings especially when times got tough. He took up causes others might deem foolish or wasteful, knowing that everyone and everything in life on this earth wasn’t his by entitlement but God given for our betterment no matter how lost a soul may be, be it someone down on their luck or a weird-ass cat with a tail like a bollard and a hiss like a twelve foot King Cobra.
I miss my Dad so much it’s unbearable. You’re never prepared for the death of a parent, I suppose, but I thought we’d have at least a few more years together. I’m angry and sad, feeling robbed of the greatest friend and champion I’ll ever have. But I know he’s always near telling me to keep at it, take care of myself and my family. And I’ll tell him what I told him on his deathbed, “Dad, we’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. Barney will be okay but not make it easy for anyone. Thank you for going to that party where you saw a girl from Maine and knew you were going to marry her. Thank you for making a wonderful life with her for us and for everyone you knew. I know I’ll see you again someday but until then don’t let Mom keep you from that second or third beer or glass of wine because you sure as heck deserve it.”