Rick Hube, who died Dec. 21 in Florida of an aneurysm, was that rare thing in politics - someone incapable of malice. Or, for that matter, defeatism.
He seemed more than resigned to the role of minority membership in the state legislature and could, at times, seem almost to relish it. It's far easier to propose audacious policies and programs if you know that there isn't much chance you'll be tasked with coming up with ways to implement them. And he was always juggling more audacious schemes than he could keep up in the air.
“Hey,” he would say over the phone, not bothering to identify himself, since his sand-and-gravel voice was unmistakable. “What do you think about this ..."
And he would be off.
But that is not to say that he was not a thoughtful man or that he did not take his role as a legislator - and a member of the Republican minority - seriously. He didn't need the job, which seemed to make doing it well even more important to him.
And that meant all aspects of the job - from policy making to constituent service. If you were sitting with Rick in a public place, having coffee, you could be sure that a voter would come by with some complaint. And he would listen patiently, then make notes on a sheet of paper he would tear from my notebook (he never carried pen or paper) and promise to look into it.
“I'll get back to you,” he would say. And mean it. The last time I saw him make such a promise - no more than a month ago - the constituent was a woman who was having problems with her telephone bill.
“Why didn't you tell her to call Fairpoint?” I asked, after she'd left, confident the matter was in good hands.
Rick shrugged, and it was a big shrug.
“Comes with the territory."
* * *
He was a large man, and all his friends worried about his weight and what it meant for his health. But if he was large, the term “morbidly obese” never applied to Rick, no matter how heavy he got.
There was real athleticism in that big body, and you saw it on the golf course and when he skied. When you watched him, you were reminded of Paul Newman in the movie The Hustler, when he studied Jackie Gleason stalking shots around the pool table.
“Look at that fat man move,” Newman says, in admiration. Rick Hube moved that gracefully through life.
The legislature will miss his brain and his energy.
The rest of us will miss his very big heart.