Congratulations to Rick Bonasch, Director of Technical Assistance at Rise Community Development, recipient of our 2023 Lifetime Dedication to Community Building Award!
The Lifetime Dedication to Community Building Award recognizes a person who:
Has demonstrated a long-standing commitment to community building work.
Has exhibited leadership, vision, and a commitment to action and results.
Has catalyzed outstanding impact in community building policy, investment, and/or community change.
Has worked to challenge the status quo in the St. Louis region.
Humans of St. Louis storyteller Lindy Drew met with Kerri Bonasch, Rick’s wife, to learn more about Rick and his passion for the community. Here’s some of what Kerri had to say about Rick and his life’s work.
Rick and I often talked about how we had a wonderful life here together. There were always things to do. St. Louis has problems, but every city has problems. It's the people who matter. The people are what makes St. Louis special and unique. We had so many nice things happen to us here. We came to call them ‘St. Louis Moments.’ Like, when we were deciding if we were gonna move here and we went to a game. I remember I went to put money in a meter, but I didn’t have any quarters. Somebody came up to us, and I asked for change. They responded, “Ah, don’t worry about it. Here are four quarters. I got a ticket here once.” Another time, we wanted to go to a Cards game and funds were low so we were gonna buy bleacher seats. I was kinda crabby that night until someone came up to us saying, “You look like you need tickets,” and they handed us two box seat tickets. Things like that happen all the time here. When Rick got sick, our neighbors gave us at least two meal trains, mowed our lawns, and scolded me once I tried to mow the lawn — I needed to because he was in the hospital a lot and I had a lot of pent-up energy. This is the first time I’ve ever lived alone. Neighbors have raked the lawn, shoveled snow, fed me, and even offered a little prayer service at our block party in his remembrance three days after Rick passed away. It was a testament to the community spirit in our City. Some of the people he worked with still come to visit. And all the cards people wrote and the donations to RISE and the music program at St. Gabriel…. Rick used to play guitar and give lessons. He never charged. He just asked that his students donate to a music program of their choice.
📷| Courtesy of Kerri Bonasch
Rick got in a car accident when everything went south. The doctor said it had nothing to do with it. But he had to catheterize himself and from the day of the car accident until he died, for four years, he had a bladder infection. The doctor kept doing the same things but expecting different results. Let this be a lesson to somebody. And the lesson is to get a second opinion. We had a big fight about it, actually, but he didn’t do it. He liked and trusted his doctor. It turns out, my husband had an aggressive cancer. During the pandemic, when they finally did find it, he got COVID, so his chemo was delayed. Then when he could get chemo, it didn’t work. It was January 10th, 2022 when the doctor did a biopsy but never called us with the results. The care he got after he was diagnosed was unbelievable. I just finally wrote to the oncologist to say thanks.
The doctors at Missouri Baptist did everything they could. When the chemo didn’t work, we had to wait six weeks — one for his body to recover and because the hospital didn’t have enough staff. During that time, his cancer doubled in size and then they couldn’t remove the tumor because it was close to his blood vessels. They called our son and I to a conference room about 45 minutes into the surgery to tell us. We opted for radiation and the tumor shrunk. In July and June, we thought maybe we’d have a chance. But then it spread and went to some horrible places. Rick suffered immensely, but he was a warrior. Every time he got radiation, that took care of it. But, finally, it got in his bones. It’s hard to watch someone you love die. But you’re part of an honor guard walking someone you dearly love home.
It was a peaceful death. Our son came home and was with us through the last days. We played music. We talked to him about our favorite memories and how much we loved him. All his friends came. It was sad. I drove Rick by the Doorways project he had been working on. He knew this project wasn’t just about places to live, it was building community and he was really happy about that. He knew it was gonna be finished. After his memorial service, some people said, “We didn’t really know what he did. Now we do.” When you say “technical assistance,” people think it had something to do with computers. It’s a shame his work had to stop. But sometimes your work is done.
Although Rick was born in Michigan, both he and I grew up in California. I’d lived for a time in Cincinnati and already knew I liked the Midwest. After our first visit to St. Louis, we were amazed at how green it was and how nice the people were. And it was the river, the architecture, the living history we fell in love with. We lived here from 1986 to 1989. Our first apartment was in Creve Coeur — Broken Heart, Missouri, is what I called it — and we’d find ourselves in the car, driving through the City like, “Look at this. Look at that.” It was all the things there were to do: the Botanical Garden, the Zoo, the Great Forest Park Balloon Race, and the Fourth of July under the Arch. Rick actually got into architecture school at WashU with scholarships but decided not to do it. We went back to California, but I’d still visit St. Louis in spring when the trees get this green sheen. And then there was the beauty of fall. And all of the festivals. Then there are the cathedrals. We’d go into these churches and they’re like something you’d see in Europe.
When we talked about moving back, I didn’t want to live in California anymore. Our jobs were there, but there were hours spent in traffic, our rent was astronomical, Rick was often away from home driving hours spent in traffic. After seven years of marriage and finding out I was finally pregnant, it wasn’t sustainable to be on the west coast anymore. It was time to make a change. So one day we were driving home listening to the radio and we heard people were starting to move to Idaho and Colorado. I said, “You know, we don’t have to go back to St. Louis. But if you were gonna go somewhere, where would you want to go?” I didn’t know whether to hit him or to cheer when he said, “I want to go to St. Louis.” A few months later, we were here again, found our first house on Neosho, and never looked back. So many good things have happened to us here.
“Halloween and Mardi Gras in St. Louis were his favorite holidays.”
📷| Courtesy of Kerri Bonasch
Rick’s dad would have his wisdom teeth pulled without novocaine, and Rick was as tough as his dad but in an immense amount of pain. Still, he worked up until two weeks before he died. He didn’t want to stop. I made a workstation for him in the basement and, thanks to COVID, he was able to work from home. When he couldn’t get down the stairs anymore, we moved his computer into the living room. He’d go to meetings via Zoom and if a signature was required, a colleague brought it for him to sign. But, in the end, we were filling Rick with so many drugs. You know, you tell people “it’s okay to go” even though you really don’t want them to. But when it’s no longer any way to live, it’s what you say. Rick’s last two weeks were when it really got tough. Rick started hospice on a Friday. By Sunday night, it was clear the end was coming on faster. In those moments, it was really just about being together. But our son and I knew and still feel his legacy.
For the eulogy my son wrote, he said, “When describing St. Louis to people from out of town, Dad always lit up with stories of neighborly acts of kindness, community acts of solidarity, and underdog scenarios of people from the biggest small town coming together to form parts of the bigger whole.” The other night, I was telling a friend, I knew Rick was that kind of man and that’s why I married him. If something happened to someone, we’d come together and it didn’t matter who they were. He was always doing community development, helping to rebuild neighborhoods versus ripping them apart. There was an opportunity here to do well by doing good. It became ingrained in us. Our anniversary would fall at the end of September, so I’d go visit friends, but he would work around the clock to finish those tax credit applications with the rest of the RISE crew. He had a strong sense of duty and community service. All for one and one for all.
- Kerri Bonasch for Rick Bonasch, Director of Technical Assistance at Rise Community Development
