Ronald "Rich" Richardson

Ronald Wayne "Rich" Richardson, 78, of Annapolis, IL, passed away on January 30, 2026, in the comfort of his home. Rich came into the world on March 26, 1947, at the Naval Hospital in Pensacola, FL, the son of Arthur Wayne and Margaret (Fern) Richardson. Because his father was a career Navy man, Rich grew up as what people call a "Navy brat." But Rich was never a brat. Even as a boy, he was steady and kind, the one who looked out for his younger siblings and carried responsibility in a way that felt natural. He was also a natural athlete. As a young man, Rich became an accomplished swimmer, winning trophies and titles, and discovering what it felt like to discipline your body until it could do what most people could not. And while that drive made him strong, it also made him curious, because he was never content to be impressed by how something worked. He wanted to understand it.

That curiosity followed him out of the pool and into the garage. From a young age, Rich was a grease monkey, learning the ins and outs of mechanics right alongside his dad. He learned how to listen to an engine, how to fix what was broken, how to use his hands to solve problems, and how to keep going until the job was done. Over time, those lessons became more than a skill set. They became part of who he was, a man who did not panic when something went wrong, because he believed there was almost always a way to make it right.

That mindset shaped the biggest decision of his young life. During his senior year of high school, Rich enlisted in the United States Marine Corps, and after graduating from Escambia High School in Pensacola in 1965, he left for Parris Island, SC, for boot camp. The Marine Corps took his work ethic and his willingness to learn and forged them into something even stronger, and when he had the opportunity to choose a specialty, it made sense that he followed the path he already loved. He headed to helicopter mechanic school in Memphis, TN, where his mechanical instincts could become real expertise.

Memphis was where Rich crossed paths with Greg Wells, and the two became the kind of friends who stay friends for life. Before long, Greg and his wife, Sharon, invited Rich to Illinois, feeding him good food and giving him a place that felt like it could become home. When Vietnam took Rich away for thirteen months, they did not let him go without a lifeline. Sharon encouraged him to write to a pen pal during his deployment, her friend, Lana Crane.

So Rich wrote, and Lana wrote back, and somewhere in the middle of war and distance and waiting, a relationship began to form. Their letters became a thread of normalcy in an abnormal season. While Rich's experiences in Vietnam would change him in ways only those closest to him could fully understand, those letters also gave him something else, a promise of home that he could carry in his pocket. Rich served his country with honor, earning 21 Air Medals, the National Defense Medal, the Vietnam Service Medal, the Vietnam Campaign Medal, and the Combat Aircrewman Badge. Later, after returning stateside, he was recognized as Marine of the Month at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, serving as a helicopter crew chief mechanic.

When his service brought him back to the United States, the next step of his story was the one his heart had already chosen. Rich drove to Illinois to meet the woman who had been writing to him all those months, and what began as ink on paper became a life side by side. Rich and Lana were married in July of 1968, and from that moment forward, Illinois was not just a place he visited. It was home.

In the years that followed, Rich stepped into long days and real responsibility, and he carried both with the quiet confidence of a man who knew how to provide. He worked at Case Manufacturing, the Crawford County Highway Department, and the Texaco refinery in Lawrenceville, finding satisfaction in jobs that required reliability and skill. One of the highlights of his years with Texaco was competing in tanker driver "Roadeo" competitions, winning in Lake Geneva, WI, and in Houston, TX, and taking pride in doing his work well, not for applause, but because excellence mattered to him. When Texaco shut its doors, Rich simply adjusted course. He spent time driving for Rock Island and CCX, and later, he returned to the refinery once it became the Indian refinery. Change never scared him. He just kept going.

The last official stop in Rich's career came at Ameren/CIPS, where the nickname "Ricco" became as familiar as the man himself. He served as a shift supervisor there, respected for his calm leadership and his quiet competence. He was proud of the crew he worked with and of the responsibility he carried each day. When the plant closed, he retired in December of 2011, bringing an end to his formal working life. Retirement simply brought one part of his life into fuller view.

Long before retirement, Rich had already stepped in to take over his father-in-law's farm. Farming was the work he enjoyed most, not only because it put him outdoors, but because it called on everything he loved. It was long days and real responsibility, but it was also machinery to maintain, problems to solve, and a sense of purpose that fit him. He especially loved the mechanical aspects of the job, the way effort and know-how could keep things running, and the way a man could look back at the end of the day and know he had accomplished something real. He believed in doing what needed to be done, whether it was on the farm, through his service on the Eaton Water District board, or as a member of American Legion Post #1130.

But if you want to understand Rich, you can't stop at what he accomplished. You have to look at how he loved. No matter what he was doing, he was always working to make others better. In his home, the kids did their chores before they could have fun, because Rich believed responsibility was part of joy, not the enemy of it. And when they made mistakes, he did not rush to punish. He turned mistakes into learning opportunities so it wouldn't happen again. He was the kind of father you did not want to let down, not because he ruled with fear, but because you knew how much he cared. That care was practical. Rich wanted to provide what his family needed and wanted, and he took that calling seriously. He set the bar high for his children, and in doing so, he gave them more than a childhood. He gave them a blueprint. They saw what it looked like to be a husband and father who led by example, who protected what mattered, who showed love in action, and who made time for his kids in ways they would understand later.

And because he lived that way, his love extended beyond his own household. Over time, he became a father figure to many, not because he asked for the role, but because he naturally filled it. He quietly showed up, again and again, and people felt valued simply because he made time for them. It makes sense that he became "Grandad" to a lot of people, because he carried himself like one. You could count on him to be there. You could count on him to stay calm. You could count on him to be patient. And you could count on him to brighten a room with that warm smile we will always remember. He had a way of making ordinary moments feel lighter, sometimes with nothing more than that smile, and sometimes with music turned up just a bit too loud, filling the house the way he filled a room.

Underneath the joy, the work ethic, and the way he showed up for people, there was something deeper holding him together. Rich's faith was real, and it mattered. He was a member and former trustee of Mount Olive Baptist Church, but it was not church involvement that convinced people he walked with Jesus. It was the fruit of his life: love that showed up early and stayed late, patience that made room for others, and integrity that held like bedrock. You did not have to wonder what shaped him. You could see it. And because of that, though we will miss him, we know we have not lost him. We know exactly where he is. With Jesus.

Rich is survived by his wife of 57 years, Lana Richardson; by his children, Cher (Justin) Childress and Dallas (Molly) Richardson; by the joy of his life, his grandchildren, Kalee (Peyton) Allen, Brayden Childress, Harper Richardson, and Macallister Richardson; by his sister, Barbara Parker; by his brother, Phillip (Vickie) Richardson; by his brother-in-law, Lyle (Denise) Crane; as well as several nieces and nephews. He was preceded in death by his parents; his brother, Don Richardson; and his in-laws, Clarence and Ruth Crane.

A time of visitation will be held from 2:00 to 4:00 p.m. on Saturday, February 7th, at the Prust-Hosch Funeral Home in West Union. At 4:00 p.m., military honors will be rendered, followed by a memorial service officiated by Heidi Piersall. Memorials may be made to "Transitions Hospice", with memorial envelopes available at the funeral home.