I am not usually comfortable making public my feelings about people, but I feel a need to say something about my friend Richard Simino, who died in April.When I first moved to Glover, Richard was one of the first people I met.His wife, Becky, was the daughter of the farmer whose land I bought, and on which I eventually built my cabin, and later, my house.I went to work for Richard, for $10 a day, and “found,” as they used to say.Found was always lots to eat, beer at the end of the day, some Red Man or a cigar or two, and plenty of woodsman’s wisdom.Much of what I know about logging I learned from Richard.
Later we worked as partners for a while, and later still, he worked for me.My working life has been spent in the woods, but Richard was certainly the finest woodsman I have known.He could slide a tree down through the canopy, with unerring accuracy.His saws always ran and were sharp.He could get out of any mud hole, off of any stump.Usually he was smart enough to avoid them.
He was a tinkerer and could fix anything.He could get riled but usually was easy-going.He had a million stories, often with a point to suit the occasion.
One of seven brothers, Richard was in the woods on a skidder, far in northern New York, when he was 12.That prospect would scare the crap out of any 12-year-olds I have known.He survived, and prospered, built a wonderful homestead with Becky, helped innumerable friends and relatives, became a superlative finish carpenter when his eyes would no longer protect him in the woods, and for his entire life, worked as hard and well as any other.
If you have ever worked in the woods, you will understand when I say:”Wherever you are, Richard, load light and go often.”
