By Nalani Fujimori Kaina, RCAC Board of Directors President

“…death don’t have no mercy in this land,

Death will leave you standing and crying in this land.”

Grateful Dead, Death Don’t Have Mercy

On Saturday, March 28, 2020, we lost Rural Community Assistance Corporation (RCAC) Board Member Richard Elías. He passed away in his sleep. His death was sudden and shocked us all. We are heartbroken and his loss is deeply felt.

When Richard joined the Board of Directors in 2015, we made a new friend who encouraged us to be bold and to be brave. He would challenge our basic assumptions and pushed us to think harder and care harder for those who make the rural West work. Richard was wise, kind and compassionate with an underlying bit of mischievousness that always kept us on our toes.

For most of us, Richard was our Board member from Arizona. As a fifth generation Tucsonan and seventh generation Southern Arizonan, we knew that when he spoke, he spoke with the heart of his community in mind. He always had a story to share about his dad or mom, or a community member who inspired him.  We could ask a question about somewhere in Arizona and he would likely know something about it. As a former self-help housing grantee, he always spoke with nostalgia and gratitude toward RCAC and the critical assistance he received when he, in his own word, “had no idea what he was doing.” He was also a former beneficiary who aimed to give back and for him, that was serving on the RCAC Board of Directors.

Richard, though, wasn’t just the guy who made faces when he disagreed with you, shared salty plums with lemons with you, was an eternal Dead Head, and enjoyed a Manhattan before dinner. He was a well-respected Pima County Supervisor and was the Chair of the Board of Supervisors. In Tucson, he advocated for affordable housing, quality education, clean water, and the Sonoran Desert Protection Plan. He made things better for his community. He easily moved in the political circles of Tucson and in Washington, D.C. People knew him in Arizona and he knew people in Arizona.

Yet, for us, he was Richard, the Board member from Arizona who always made you smile and who would light up when showing you his latest cactus flower pictures or talking about his wife, Emily or daughter, Luz. He was Richard, who advocated and spoke for those who lived in the rural West. He was Richard, our friend and colleague, who always had a little bit of a rascal twinkle behind his eyes.

In February, at our last Board meeting, I remember saying goodbye to him. He was wearing a denim jacket which personified his rebelliousness and of course, was getting ready to head out for a smoke. He gave me a hug, a little longer than usual, as we somehow knew it was going to be a while before we would see each other again. He stepped away from me and turned around, walking towards the glass doors, and waving his hand high in the air as he always did when saying goodbye.

Adios, dear friend, you are deeply missed, but we know you are dancing around the sun…

“Well, everybody’s dancin’ in a ring around the sun.

Nobody’s finished; we ain’t even begun.

So, take off your shoes, child, and take off your hat.

Try on your wings and find out where it’s at.”

Grateful Dead, The Golden Road