Richard "Rick" William Seidel
Remembering Not What Is, but What Once Was
If you were designing the prototypical example of a person who did not deserve to die before their natural time, what would it look like? It would very likely take the form of a compassionate individual who dedicated their career and life as a whole toward making others’ lives better. It might also consist of a dedicated husband and father, who took special attention to the details and ensured he was the best safety net that his wife or son could ever hope for. This person might care deeply about animals, so much so that he constructed a cat tree with his bare hands from carpet and wood so that the feral cats he helped rescue would have a place to watch the sun rise. And he might be gentle, yet extremely strong, insightful, but rarely pushy, and have the best sense of humor without being brusque or over the top.
Rick Seidel exemplified so many of these qualities and helped make the first part of my life the absolute best I could ever have hoped for. There was never a day in my life where I doubted in the slightest how much he cared for me or my mother Laurie, and I was always excited to hear the garage door open shortly after 5:30 pm when he arrived home from his day as a clinical psychologist at the local hospital. So incredibly frequently would we sit down to the family dinner the three of us shared and he would break out into this big smile and tell us, “you know that (anonymous to us) guy/gal I’ve been seeing for so many weeks now? Today they came in and told me what great progress they have made by implementing the skills we have been working on.” His face said it all at these times – this was so rewarding for him, and in my opinion that above all else really showed who he was.
Unsurprisingly, the above personality traits made for a father like few others. I will never forget so many of the memories the two of us shared, from reading books together to shooting hoops in the driveway to sitting courtside at Roanoke College or the Salem Civic Center, him doing play-by-play for the Maroons or ODAC tournament and me pouring over the live stats page, trying to find useful tidbits to pass to him to enhance the coverage. So many people in my hometown recognize his iconic call for when a three-point shot would find its mark – “Nothing but the bottom of the net!” He taught me an innumerable amount of lessons over the years, none greater than his outlook on approaching problems. “It’s just like shooting a basketball,” became the famed adage that still makes my mother and I smile, “it’s all about putting in place the proper process, focus, and effort, and the result will take care of itself.”
He applied this methodology to everything in his life, as a husband, father, clinical psychologist, sports broadcaster, amateur golf caddie, and everything in between. My friends still remark fondly about his dry but warm sense of humor that made him feel like one of us boys despite any age difference. He absolutely loved doing things with my group of friends, from teaching us intricate poker games he learned during his college days to coaching my basketball teams and traveling all over Virginia for our games. His kindness was evident in everything he did, and I believe he had the most gentle heart I have seen to this day. We probably read every kid’s sports book ever written together as a child, and it was not uncommon for him to choke up just a little bit as the hero overcame a personal obstacle to help his family or triumph over tough odds. It was the same with movies, and I credit my capacity for absolutely weeping at Matt Damon being told in Goodwill Hunting that “it’s not your fault” directly to my dad (in the best way).
I’m sure the things I see in the world or in myself that remind me of him will only grow and intensify now that he has passed. I feel his energy and excitement in basketball arenas already, in particular the moments of anticipation leading up to tip-off where the arena is rocking and I picture the two of us sitting at the scorer’s table, him testing his headset and me refreshing my live stats. I also picture us up in the stands, as if it were an ACC tournament of old, playing one of our favorite games – him naming a pro player and me trying my best to guess which college they went to (he had a steel trap of a memory for those). I see his face with any image of a father playing catch with his son, which we did with every sport’s ball I can think of – he was a southpaw with a great arm, who loved tossing a football out into the waves for me to try to make a spectacular diving catch before getting rocked by an aquatic linebacker. And I see him every time I even glance at one of the dark, green, leafy vegetables that he somehow enjoyed more than many other, tastier foods.
My sincere wish at this point is that wherever he is now, and in whatever form, his spirit has found peace at last, because I can think of no one more deserving of that. This was a man who dedicated his life toward improving those of others and had immeasurable success with that effort. My dad may have passed on last Sunday, but the impact he left on his community and the people around him most certainly remains with us still. So many people in his community will forever remember the impact he had on them and many credit his work for a dramatic betterment in their lives. And I personally will never forget how happy he helped make the first stretch of my life. Dad, I will always love you and I pledge to continue living my life as best I can to live up to your example, because after all, it’s just like shooting a basketball. Rick Seidel was the prototypical example of someone who did not deserve to be taken away from the world this soon, but his work, his legacy, and his memory will live on far longer in everyone who had the pleasure of knowing him.
- Nathan Seidel, 10/30/2024
It is with much sadness that we announce that Dr. Richard “Rick” William Seidel, 64, of Roanoke Virginia, passed away peacefully on October 27. Rick lived a life serving others in their time of need. Words cannot express all of who Rick was—father, husband, son, friend, therapist, mentor, researcher, leader, writer, broadcaster, animal lover and teacher. With a distinguished career as a clinical psychologist and gifted therapist, he helped others improve their mental health throughout his career in CA and VA.
Rick is survived by his wife of 36 years, Laurie Seidel and by his beloved son Nathan Seidel. He is also survived by his father, Robert Seidel, his sister Cindy Crum, his brother-in-law Scott Walker, his sister-in-law Carol Walker, and many dear friends and colleagues. He is preceded in death by his mother, Sylvia Seidel, his father-in-law Eugene “Grampy” Walker, and his mother-in-law, June Berry Walker. A Duke Blue Devil through and through, he treasured his friendships with his Duke friends over the decades and their gatherings to reminisce about their BOG days.
A devoted and loving husband and father, Rick was dedicated to his family. He enjoyed traveling and genuinely loved the Bay Area and northern California. He was happiest doing whatever Nathan was interested in. Countless hours were spent reading books together. While he didn’t play golf, Rick became the world’s proudest caddie to his son and the best rebounder and shooting partner at the hoop.
Rick grew up in Alexandria, VA and graduated with academic honors Phi Beta Kappa and Summa cum laude from Duke University with a double major in Psychology and Economics. He went on to attend the University of Virginia, where he earned his M.Ed. and Ph.D. from the Institute of Clinical Psychology with Adult and Family subspecialty. After his internship in Palo Alto, California, Rick launched a clinical psychology career that would take him from serving veterans at the Palo Alto VA Medical Center at the National Center for PTSD, to serving as a Clinical Psychologist and Director in the Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Medicine at Carilion Clinic for 29 years. He provided training and supervision in both the Family Medicine Residency and Psychiatry Residency Programs and taught medical students as an Associate Professor of Psychiatry for Virginia Tech Carilion School of Medicine. He led and participated in 13 research projects and grants and was published in 12 peer reviewed articles. Rick was a master trainer in the Stanford University Chronic Disease Self-Management Program and was instrumental in bringing a program steering committee for this work to Roanoke. There was so much more he wanted to do.
Rick loved to play basketball and practice martial arts, earning his Black Belt from the Jhoon Rhee Institute. While living in the Bay Area, he turned his passion for all things sports to broadcasting, a hobby that would travel with him coast to coast. He began as a sports broadcaster for the Stanford University Cardinal Women’s volleyball and Men’s basketball teams and after moving to Roanoke he became the voice of the Roanoke College Maroons men’s basketball team. He provided live broadcasts for many years of ODAC Men’s Basketball tournaments, the Amos Alonso Stagg Bowl, the NCAA DII and DIII Softball Championships, and was a college football “stringer” for ESPN radio. He enjoyed preparing for each game, doing the play-by-play, and offered outstanding interviews with team coaches for his listening audience. And along with many awesome color partners, Nathan joined his dad in the broadcast booth.
Parkinson’s Disease, a chronic and progressive neurodegenerative disease, is the cause of Rick’s death. May there one day be interventions for preventing and curing this disease. We are deeply grateful to Michael Jeremiah, MD, for his medical expertise, compassionate care, and support of Rick and our family during a long, painful journey. We also thank the Good Samaritan Hospice team for their compassion and layers of support.
Rick will be missed dearly and will be forever in our hearts. His life made a difference in countless people’s lives, and his contributions in mental health and chronic disease will continue to benefit others. We will always miss hearing his voice on the radio, doing play-by-play with such joy. In lieu of flowers, please consider making a donation to the Michael J. Fox Foundation to help eradicate this disease.
A commemoration of Rick’s life will be held privately.
Arrangements by the Electric Road Chapel of Simpson Funeral Home.
