We were very sad to learn that our dear friend and author Richard Richards passed away peacefully earlier this month. He had a clever sense of humor and wit that will be missed. It was an honor and a delight to help him publish his books.
Professor Richards had many accomplishments with his latest efforts resulting in two published books ‘A Philosopher Looks at The Sense of Humor‘ and ‘Poems that Almost Got Away: Reflections on Death and Life‘, and many iris hybrid introductions. During his lifetime, Richards was deeply involve in everything iris and contributed regularly in the form of presentations of his latest findings and seedling introductions at regional and local chapters of the American Iris Society, namely The San Diego Iris Society. His award winning irises included tall bearded irises ‘Amethyst Winter’ ‘Marty Richards’ ‘Easy Being Green’ and ‘Classical Brass.’ He also introduced a species cross iris unguicularis ‘Zzyzx.’ His hybridizing program focused on a producing a true green iris. While his program produced many greenish examples, they also came in a variety of other colors, such as the dramatic purple irises he introduced. Due to his exacting standards, every introduction had to be tall and sturdy with many buds. Richards was also an expert on Pacific Coast Native Irises which he also hybridized for fun and introduced ‘Clarice Richards’ in honor of his mother who encouraged his passion for growing and hybridizing plants.’
About Richard C. Richards in his own words
“I meet death occasionally for lunch, but we only talk about trivial things. We’re not really good friends, but we tolerate each other. Many of the poems in ‘Poems That Almost Got Away’ deal with death. That is a respectable topic for a philosopher, a poet, or anyone else who wants to understand this crazy disease called life, and not simply to get through it with as little thought as possible. Death to me is a concern, but not a preoccupation. I meet death occasionally for lunch, but we only talk about trivial things. We’re not really good friends, but we tolerate each other. Sometimes I joke. Sometimes you cannot tell whether I am joking or not. Neither can I…sometimes.
I remember little of my conception and birth. I assume it took place, but I was not in a position to appreciate it. It was all just a whirl of chromosomes and genes. Plus a rude exit into the world at Moscow, Idaho. They tell me it was in 1935. They could be wrong.
I had what was, compared with children today, an idyllic youth, spent in an atmosphere of no TV and other digital devices, mostly because they had not been invented yet. We roamed the fields and woods near Boise, Idaho, fished, and threw rocks at Neanderthals, who were plentiful at the time.
A move to Santa Barbara, California, after the late, great WWII introduced me to the world of thinking, stimulated and occasionally threatened by some really great teachers at both Santa Barbara High School and the University of California, Santa Barbara. At the latter I discovered my true vocation, but became a philosopher instead. UCLA put the cap on my bottle of education, and I spent nearly forty years teaching at California State Polytechnic on a one-year temporary appointment. I got all the mileage out of that appointment I could.
My first marriage produced one son, Randal, who produced nine grandchildren, who produced four great grandchildren so far. A wonderful marriage to Marlene “Marty” Richards added immeasurably to my life.
The philosophy of humor has interested me for years, and with retirement, I decided to write the book, A Philosopher Looks at The Sense of Humor. It has a serious intent and a humorous approach. That way I can offend a larger number of people: both the humorous and the serious.
My funeral occurred several years ago, but it did not take. But I got to put the fun back in FUNeral.” — Richard C. Richards, La Mesa, CA