the spice of life

When we were getting family photos done a few years back, some of us realized no one had decided to coordinate colors for our outfits so we were all pretty mismatched.

Poppa said, “Variety is the spice of life. We’ll just be extra spicy!”

Life will be a little less spicy without Vic Ritter. His humor, warmth, and playfulness were unmatched. It was a gift to be his granddaughter, and to spend the last few days celebrating his life and remembering all he was to so many.

Poppa was precisely the kind of man you’d expect to meet when you pictured a small town mayor - kind, goofy, personable, and able to make anyone feel at home with him.

He lived a life that leaves a legacy of kindness, respect, and laughter. He taught me to laugh too hard and too much and too loud. To not take myself too seriously and to appreciate an inappropriate joke. To be patient and loyal. To eat meals together. That mundane moments with family are often more valuable that grand moments alone. That true faith meant loving your neighbor, showing up for your people, and helping whoever you can however you can.

He helped me learn to fish. We spent warm summer days on the dock or near the pond, in search of blue gill and rock bass that swam near the shore. He’d sneak you a sweet treat when the other grown-ups weren’t looking and was always encouraging you to take seconds (and thirds). He was always singing and humming, and he’s likely who I get my voice from.

And he was always up for a snack.