In Memoriam James McDowell Richards 1931- and Bonnie Gay Richards ne McClellan 1938-
On the Occasion of the 10 Year Anniversary of their Deaths
I am the oldest son of James and Bonnie, Michael (John) Richards, and I’m writing this memorial letter about them on the 10th Anniversary of their untimely deaths in the same week of January 11, 2011. Yes, 1-11-11.
Due to the sadness of their deaths at the same time, I managed to reached out to close relatives with news of their passing, but was overcome after with the emotion and the burden of both parents dying together, and under such unusual circumstances. This letter seeks to make amends by reaching out to their friends as well, with memories of their life and death. I’m afraid it is a story of sadness, in a time of sadness.
I received word of their passing as next of kin in the middle of learning Urdu at the US Foreign Service Language School in Virginia and could no take more than a week off without missing my pending deployment to Pakistan, and possibly losing my commission, as I was still on probationary assignment.
Their youngest son Thomas, from north of San Francisco, and I both rushed to Green Valley, Arizona to see “Mac”, 79, in the hospital and make final arrangements for our mother, age 72.
In a story that is all too familiar this year, my father started having difficulty breathing mid-week in the first week of January, 2011 He saw his family doctor, who sent him home with a diagnosis of asthma. Both my father and mother had a history or respiratory problems. His condition rapidly deteriorated and he was rushed to the hospital by ambulance, intubated, put on a ventilator, and never regained consciousness.
Tragically, my mother was also sick with the same respiratory illness, some kind of pneumonia, and passed away while waiting for a ride to take her to visit my father in the hospital. She may have fallen asleep while waiting in the early hour, smothered in her sleep, then her heart failed, before her ride found her already dead?
Emergency measures for my father were ended several days later after conferring with Thomas, their middle son Stephen, and other family about his final wishes. Technically, he passed away five days after his wife of 50 years, but was on a ventilator 3 days before she died. All agreed he would not live well or long without her companionship, knowing that she had died, even if he recovered. Then again he might have had things he needed to say after his wife’s death.
Both of my parents passed without suffering like some suffer with Covid-19 pneumonia, by the Grace of God. My deepest sympathies, knowing this pain, to those with loved ones who have died of Covid-19 Pneumonia.
We were able to hold a memorial service for them both, which was well attended, at the Green Valley Presbyterian Church. Stephen, the middle of their three sons, was in Australia doing doctoral studies and could not make the trip in time. Both were cremated according to their last wishes, and their ashes were laid to rest in the Central Presbyterian Memorial Garden, alongside my father’s father and mother James McDowell Richards Sr. and Evelyn Knight Richards, in downtown Atlanta, GA, the church my father attended as a young man while his father was President of Columbia Seminary in Decatur, GA- himself another hard working achiever.
Bonnie is survived by her sister Judy, and Judy’s two children Charles and Laurie Winkle. She grew up in the rural mining town of Pioche, Nevada, where her father ran the local pharmacy, and moved to Salt Lake City with her parents Percy and Violet, to attend the University of Utah. This is where she met psych grad student “Mac”.
James is survived by his younger sister Kemie Nix of Peachtree City, GA and his younger brother Charles Richards, of Stone Mtn., GA, and nephews and nieces Mary Evelyn and John Nix and Emily and Michael.
My father retired as Professor Emeritus from the University of Alabama, Birmingham Medical School where he held the title of Chief Research Scientist. He worked on devising medical research programs, including treating Asthma. James was a prolific researcher and published hundreds of articles in his long career which also included work as a professor at Johns Hopkins University. My father was an adequate provider, and lived for his work, not his family; he had a distinguished career but died disrespected.
Bonnie worked as an early childhood education professor and educator at Coppin State University. Medical issues cut short her academic career, but she continued to volunteer and work for immigrant rights and women’s rights with the Green Valley Democratic Party. Both of my parents contributed well to society.
Part of the tragedy of my parents death has to do with the environment and border economics. My parents lived in a home that was not healthy for them. They retired to Southern Arizona in hope of a clean, dry climate and relief from respiratory problems. Sadly, they moved into a housing development that was across the highway from an open pit mine that generated volumes of toxic dust during heavy winds.
They were failed by the healthcare system too. My father went to his doctor, only to be sent home to die. He fell a month earlier before Christmas, after becoming disoriented, was taken to the local teaching hospital- given his life long commitment to medical education- and his injured hip was biopsied. A nurse I talked to at the same hospital where he died hinted at the possibility of medical error, the biopsy infecting him with resistant staph which may have contributed to rapid deterioration. I raised the issue with one of his doctors who became defensive, uncooperative. Was it a diversion? I had to take him off life support, not knowing; that’s true torture.
Finally, and most disturbingly, there is the likelihood of government complicity in their deaths. I learned some time after their deaths that I was under “investigation” as a “national security threat” for my position that torturers should face legal consequences, during the time of my parents’ deaths. Other relatives have described frightening visits from officials demanding they become informants; others told vile lies. I know my parents would have forcefully rebuffed such foolishness. I have also come to know these people use extreme violence to get what they want, or else silence threats, like immigrants or BLM. Of course I am no threat, nor were they.
I visited my parents for Christmas 2 weeks before their deaths in late December, 2010, and we shared heartfelt conversations, a rapprochement, and amends. I have since been made sick with pneumonia on the day of the release of the Senate Report on Torture, December 9, 2014 and every anniversary as a death threat, and lastly in April on top of Covid. I regret to say I fear mom and dad were casualties in the “war on terror” and the same “national security” state that pushed DHS to torture, then orphan children at the very border near my parents home; I fear I contributed to their suspicious deaths, by bringing American intel/security sociopaths to their door.
A year earlier, at Christmas, 2009, was the last time all five of our family were together for several days. We ate Christmas dinner together, and took our last family photo. We were not a close family. Ghosts from their own family’s pasts haunted both of my parents, which may have been the bond that drew them together and kept them together. They were both educators, psychologists, but if they wrestled or bested any of their demons, they never shared. Mother ended up passing away as a hoarder, I also regret, with father living in bad conditions along side.
They shared in the prosperity of the country, were high functioning in their work, less so at home, broken in part by their families, their unwillingness to face their own emotional wounds, and their damaged society- toxic waste, broken medical systems, poverty at the borders, national security partisan thugs. They left wounded children who struggle with the same issues. Yet they found their way back to Church in the end, were politically active on behalf of those less well off, and for justice and equality, and contributed as they were able, like many.
They died too young, their last decade deleted. They join a whole generation who are dying too early in 2020, for the same reasons. Mac and Bonnie fought the good fight, and go to be with the Saints- educators and martyrs.
I have an hour-long video taped interview of each of them that I hope to find later, which I will provide to those of you who wish. Once again, please forgive the lateness of this memorial- I hope it all makes more sense now.
Michael Richards, Geneva, Switzerland, January 11, 2021 Michaelfire@yahoo.com 1-321-595-0926
WorldConsul 