LEONARD ARTHUR HICKEY

Leonard A. Hickey passed peacefully on Wednesday, Aug. 17, 2005 at the age of 61 in Riverside, Rhode Island.
Leonard, the third child of the late Joseph and Louise (nee Barrett) Hickey, was born in Fort Frances, ON, on January 1, 1944.
He was employed as a postal worker in the Main Office in Providence since 1980. Len had been the coordinator of the East Bay Community Bike Path and was a graduate of the Citizens Police Academy.
He was a retired hockey referee for the A House RI Youth Hockey League, enjoyed playing cribbage and spending time in his workshop. He served as a Captain in the US Army in Vietnam and was a member of Post 10 American Legion in Riverside.
He married Donna (Ford) Hickey on October 22, 1966.
Leonard leaves to mourn his wife and his two daughters, Diane Gagne (Scott Turner) Plainville MA, Denise (George Roch) Riverside RI. and granddaughter Morgan Rocha.
He is also survived by his brother Edwin Hickey of Toronto ON and one sister, Edna Lambert (Gerald) of Fort Frances, ON, plus many special nieces and nephews.
A memorial service was held Saturday, August 20, 2005 at 10 a.m. at Riverside Congregational Church, Riverside RI. Sympathies can be relayed at www.projo.com
A simple man, a kind man, funny one too,
My Dad was all this and more, to all that he knew.
His off-beat sense of humour, he liked to express on-line,
“Got another good one from your Dad, today,”
I’ve heard more than one time.
He enjoyed using the net, keeping in touch with his buddy list,
Until, “that fool-thing” would break, then he’d call up us kids.
“Come over for dinner” he’d call and he’d say,
“Ya got a minute . . . let me show you this to you real quick . . . it’s been doing it all day.”
“I don’t know what I pressed, it just did that all on its own,
If you want to fool with it, be my guest . . .UP TO ME . . .out the window it would get thrown.”
He’d never ask for help out-right, it wasn’t his style,
But he would have a table-full at dinner time that way and that would make him smile.
The workbench in the basement, full of nuts, bolts, and dust,
It was a favourite escape of his from the bustle and fuss.
Need a bench made? . . . no problem, need a cabinet? . . . I’ll make two.
Here’s a coin clock, a medicine chest, and a baseball bat holder . . . it was no bother, I needed something to do.
If you needed it, he’d build it, if it were broken, he’d fix,
The “wow, thanks, Dad” that he got was well worth the occasional stitch.
The crib board in the kitchen, the cards ready–red deck, not the blue,
Always a great way to spend an hour or two.
“We need to move this game, your mother’s beginning to pout,”
Get Jake off the peg board again, I’m gonna count out.
A house full of people always made him laugh and smile,
He didn’t always show it, that wasn’t his style.
You were considered his family the minute you waked in.
You were an honourary Canadian to him; you were part of his kin.
The family in Fort Frances was never far away,
You knew who he was on the phone with when you heard him go “eh”?
It was as if he never left town, when he got on that phone,
You saw it in his wide grin, in his loud laughter, in his bright blue eyes, when he heard from his northern home.
A simple man, a kind man, a funny one too,
My Dad was all of this and more, to all that he knew.
–Diane Gagne