Rick is a retired naval architect and shipyard planner who lives in Winter Harbor with his wife, Maureen, a retired hospice nurse, and their greyhound. A longtime science fiction reader, poet and active participant in the Schoodic Arts for All community, Rick began volunteering with Hospice Volunteers of Hancock County nearly a year ago, helping with office operations and the organization’s durable medical equipment program. Drawn to hospice through both family history and his wife’s decades of work in end-of-life care, Rick brings a thoughtful, quietly philosophical presence to the organization, along with a deep belief in the importance of quality of life, community support and meeting difficult realities with openness rather than fear.
Let’s begin with writing because it sounds like that’s become an important part of your retirement life.
It has. My wife participates in a Friday morning craft group, and while everyone else is needle felting or painting, I sit and write. I usually have a couple of poems going and lately I’ve also been working on some fiction. There’s a flash fiction contest coming up through the arts council in Machias, so I’ve been tinkering with ideas for that.
Was writing always part of your life?
Not professionally. My background is actually naval architecture and planning in naval shipyards. But I’ve always been a huge science fiction reader and eventually that led me toward wanting to write myself.
How did poetry enter the picture?
Around 2013, I decided I wanted to make writing an everyday practice. In the process, I found some online poetry groups and got hooked. Poetry appealed to me because it’s self-contained. You can sometimes complete something meaningful in a single sitting.
Kindred spirits here. I actually have my master’s in poetry and have spent the last twenty years teaching creative writing and literature, so naturally I’m curious about what you’re reading these days.
I’ve been revisiting Billy Collins, particularly his collection Whale Day.
On the science fiction side, I’m reading Peter Watts, whose work is very dark and very contemporary feeling. The first book in the series is Starfish, which especially appealed to me because my original degree was actually in oceanography. I grew up wanting to become the next Jacques Cousteau.
I also enjoy China Miéville, whose imagination is just astonishing. Disturbing at times, but astonishing.
You describe his work as “not Tolkien by any means.”
(laughs) Definitely not Tolkien.
You mentioned your mother and also your wife, Maureen, who I was fortunate to have met during vigil training. I’m curious how hospice volunteering came into your own life.
Maureen has been a hospice nurse for many years, and my mother also volunteered in a hospice office for a time. When Kathy reached out to Maureen about helping with vigil training, Maureen came home afterward and suggested I might enjoy volunteering too.
It wasn’t lost on me that I ended up doing essentially the same type of office volunteering my mother once did, though she was doing it in Auburn and I’m doing it in Ellsworth. It felt like a kind of symmetrical serendipity.
I’ve also seen firsthand through Maureen how meaningful hospice work is. It’s really a calling. I don’t think my own strengths necessarily lie in direct patient care, but I can absolutely help behind the scenes in the office and if that’s useful, I’m happy to do it.
What does a typical volunteer shift look like for you?
I work Thursdays from 10 to 2. A lot of my time is spent answering phones, directing calls, taking messages, helping with mailings and assisting with whatever needs doing in the office.
One major part of what I do involves the durable medical equipment program. If someone comes in needing equipment, I’ll help them locate what they need, bring them downstairs to the storage area, and fill out paperwork.
I also help organize donations, assemble equipment if needed and lately, I’ve been doing a fair amount of filing. It’s all considerably easier than building destroyers, which was my previous line of work.
I’ve referred several of my clients to the equipment program over the last couple of years and have always been struck by how valuable it is, especially because many people don’t realize it exists.
It’s an incredible community resource. We call it a loaner program, but really, it’s more about making sure equipment gets to people who need it. If someone needs a walker or wheelchair and we have one available, they can use it for as long as necessary. We encourage returns when equipment is no longer needed, but the real priority is simply helping people.
One interesting aspect of volunteering at the desk is realizing how quickly community needs shift. Lately, for instance, there’s been a tremendous demand for wheelchairs, and we haven’t had enough to meet it.
We also keep lists connecting people who need larger items, like hospital beds or ramps, with people who may be donating them. A lot of it becomes community matchmaking in the best sense.
Have there been any surprises or memorable moments during your year volunteering?
What stands out most is simply how welcoming and positive everyone is. Hospice work deals with difficult realities, but there’s also an extraordinary sense of support and purpose surrounding it.
To me, hospice recognizes that death is part of the continuum of life. People need support not only during dying, but also in helping loved ones move through grief and transition afterward.
Everyone I’ve encountered through the organization, Kathy, Bev, Amber, Julia, the other volunteers, has been incredibly supportive and compassionate. It creates an atmosphere where people genuinely feel valued.
You’ve had a exposure to hospice through Maureen’s work and your mother’s volunteering. Many people outside hospice still misunderstand what it is or what it offers. How do we change that?
I think volunteers themselves are one of the best ways. The more people who understand hospice and carry that understanding into their daily lives and conversations, the more misconceptions begin to fade.
People often assume hospice is only about dying, but it’s also about support, preparation, quality of life and helping families navigate incredibly difficult moments with more understanding and less fear.
For people who feel hesitant about volunteering because they’re uncomfortable around death or uncertain about direct care, what would you say to them?
There are many ways to contribute that don’t involve direct patient care. Administrative work, fundraising events, vigils, community outreach, office support, all of those things matter.
There’s also a really extensive library at the office for people interested in learning more about death, dying, caregiving, or advance directives. Sometimes just beginning the conversation is meaningful.
And I know there’s growing interest within the organization in helping people think proactively about end-of-life planning through Five Wishes and advanced directives. Those conversations are important too.
Has your involvement with hospice changed the way you think about your own life?
Very much so. Hospice has made me think far more deeply about quality of life versus simply length of life.
Whenever healthcare decisions come up, part of my thinking now is: if we pursue this test or treatment, how does it affect the quality of the experience itself? Hospice helped sharpen that perspective for me.
It also helped normalize conversations around death. Before hospice, I think I approached death the way many people do, by trying not to think about it too much.
Hospice turns the light on before you walk into the cellar, so to speak. You realize there’s guidance, experience, and support available. You’re not walking into something completely unknown.
Being close to hospice doesn’t erase fear or uncertainty, but it helps people approach end of life with less isolation and a little more openness. It becomes part of the larger process of living rather than something hidden away.