To Dad, as a thank you from your son;
What is life? I believe an obituary is just that. A last hoorah to let people know he existed and a last goodbye for those who loved him, or perhaps a hug, a small note of many years well lived, to show people how a person thrived. You should leave this world with a life worth remembering, otherwise it wasn’t worth living. My dad was not much of a father to me, you couldn’t say he told me what to do or guided me. He wasn’t strict. Not that he could have been because I am as stubborn as him, there were no rules. But he was so much more, to me he was my best friend, the greatest friend anyone could ever have, no one could ever come close. He’s the greatest person I ever met. He gave me more than anyone should have and then some. Without him not only would I never have existed I would have never been able to live my dreams. Dreams he didn’t have or couldn’t live because he cared about us so much. He gave up a lot, like becoming an astronaut, playing guitar with Johnny Cash and possibly being a stand in for John Wayne, although he was a bit too short. He was a simple man; he lived life giving without wanting anything in return. He didn’t want many gifts or belongings or fancy things. He just wanted to live comfortably and not worry. He wanted the same for everyone. He’d give you the shirt off his back, if you like white button ups with wrongly embroidered monograms on them that weren’t his initials and with a slight food stain from who knows where. He never met a ham he didn’t buy. Never had a ham he didn’t give away. Everyone always said his hams were the best, how does he do it? And all I can say is because he loved doing it. He loved cooking, his favorite things were chili, and chili cookoffs. If you asked for some chili, he would cook you ten gallons or more if it was going to be a long winter or just a regular September. He loved chili cookoffs even if he lost, which he rarely did. His chili was the best, until recent years when he lost some confidence because everyone started putting weird ingredients in, like hotdogs, tuna fish and bananas. His was still old-fashioned, everything but the kitchen sink.
He was a cheesemaker most recently at Kolb-Lena cheese. He loved making cheese, he cared so much about the product. It was quality, he loved real ingredients like real milk instead of powdered stuff that someone thought was cheaper. He won United States Champion Cheesemaker in 1997. He could tell you a great cheese by squeezing it. He would bring cheese to every family gathering. He also would buy cheap cheese for me, as I caught him once and said why don’t I get the good stuff, he laughed, and said, I didn’t think you’d notice. When I first went to college, I had my carry-on luggage full of cheese, 40 pounds or so, that he made, and the lady at the airport counter asked me “what do you have in there, gold? And I said, “Yes!” family gold.
My dad had many joys in life, eating ice cream like he was a kid in a candy store, any John Wayne movie for the 500th time and cooking being his favorite thing to do. He was a “very respectable individual” he would often say to himself, while we all surely agreed. In his younger years he would race Galaxy 500’s and Gran Torino’s and might have enjoyed some time in the company of police officers, but then who hasn’t. He always talked about growing up on a farm and how apparently running over a thousand snakes with a hay baler wasn’t a very good experience and may have led to his fear of snakes, seeing that many snakes cut up in hay while trying to put them in the mound.
He traveled often, mostly because of me. I made sure he did so he could see the world I got to see because of him. I wanted him to know he could have dreams and live them too. He traveled to Hawaii, Alaska, Jamaica, Mount Rushmore, Tennessee multiple times, Muncie, Indiana, Las Vegas with Family whom got him into too much trouble and many other small undisclosed locations. He had hope to return to Switzerland where he once lived in a cheese factory for a month to learn the techniques.
He often talked about how he felt from others, how they mistreated him and how he felt hurt. Even all the way back to high school, and I would always say, it wasn’t his fault. That everyone is great in their own way, some have much money, some have many things, but my dad had just enough and was the greatest dad to me. His flaws were his strengths that others couldn’t see. He was kind, strong, stubborn as an ox, a little bit crazy, probably legally insane at times, but that’s what made him, him. He loved everyone. He wasn’t a very affectionate person physically, he’d never say “I love you” unless you forced it. But if he cooked for you, that was his way of giving you a hug, letting you know someone was there for you, and he was always there. He made a mean Hurt Soup, like the kind only love can make, didn’t matter what was in it, as long as it was made with his love it would cure anything. Much like his mom, who would always give me orange juice in a mayonnaise jar with a blue lid when I was sick (or pretending to be), that was just plain orange juice, but til today, if I’m sick, and I put orange juice in a mayonnaise jar, it cures everything.
In the end it’s more than anyone could understand. It’s everything and nothing all at once. You live, love and grow, then you slowly fade away when it just started to get great. Life is uncertain, there’s always ups and downs, lefts and rights, riches and poors. You can be in a mansion or a muddy puddle and no matter where you are, if my dad was beside you nothing else would matter, nothing else does matter but who we love, and we all take it for granted sometimes. But the memories will always be there as if he never left. We will always smile or laugh as if he’s telling us the same jokes, and he will always be part of us and how we live, because that’s what it’s like to know someone great and that’s how it feels to be loved.
Dad, there will never be another you. Thank you for everything. - Ryan
Rickey was preceded in death by his parents, Lloyd Rufer and Helen (Riese) Rufer; his sisters, Geraldine “Geri” Maurer and Delores “Dori” Rufer; and nephew, Scott Maurer.
Rickey is survived by his daughter, Amy Christine Nelson; son, Ryan Nicholas Rufer and niece-daughter, Tammy (John) Kohlenberg; grandkids, Cady Nelson (Dallas Knutson), Kaleb “Wannabe” Nelson, Dakota, Zachary “Stringbean” and BreAnn Kohlenberg; brothers, Donnie (Connie) Rufer, and Gordie (Margie) Rufer; and close family, Dan, Sylvia, Lucas and Rebecca Maurer; Sue, Nikayla and Cameron Maurer; David and Josie Buckingham, Samantha and Jake Langkamp; Jason, Jocelyn, Allena and Lavinia Rufer; Jared, Caroline and Olivia Rufer; Melissa, Zane, Charlotte and Cassandra Hagstrom; Amanda, Bradley, Avery and Tristan McPherson; Carrie, Dustin, Louis, Levi and Layton Nath; Cody, Schalon and Noelani Rufer; Jonny and Rachel Rufer, Jerry and Mariann Rufer; cousin from another dozen, Lynn Leffler, and most importantly Elmo.
A visitation will be held on Thursday, July 3, 2025 from 9:00 AM – 11:00 AM at SHRINER HAGER GOHLKE Funeral Home. A time of remembrance and sharing stories of Rickey’s life will begin at 11:00 AM. Burial will follow at Greenwood Cemetery.
Condolences may be sent to the family at: shgfuneralhome.net.
