Richard Arthur Smith left this world on September 26, 2020. Dick was born on October 1, 1935 in Plattsburgh, NY. He was the son of Richard Edward Smith and Hilda Hammond Smith. Dick spent his school years in Utica, Westport and Pulaski New York, graduating from Pulaski High School in 1953. Dick attended Brockport Teaches College and the State University of New York in Oswego, New York following his graduation. He enlisted in the United States Air Force in 1955 and served until 1959 as an Air Traffic Controller, with stations in Mississippi, Oklahoma, California and a short stint in Churchill, Manitoba, Canada. Following his honorable discharge from the Air Force, Dick worked for Burroughs Machines before settling in to a long career with the United States Postal Service. In 1962, he married Patricia Law in Montpelier, Vermont. They lived in Montpelier and Berlin, Vermont and had 3 children; Rich, Ed and Gloria. Patty left this world in April of 1979. Dick then worked as Assistant Postmaster in Northfield, Vermont for years and as Postmaster in Plainfield, Vermont until his retirement in 1991. Collectively, he had a 30 year career with the Air Force and the Post Office. Our Dad had many life experiences and saw many places; knew many people and carried many inner burdens. Like all of us, he succeeded in some areas and struggled in others. As is the case in this worldly life, some people understood and some did not, and some burdens were events a person recovers from and some were not. Ultimately, success can be found in the impact that one has on others and the learning and growth that their life brings to those that they love. Dad would be the first to acknowledge his mistakes and short-comings and to realize that some life events are between a singular person and God; that no person or force on earth will right the wrongs or change history. Perhaps the greatest lesson he provided those able to see it was that no one person is perfect and that in the personal struggle that we all have with our demons, all we really have is the effort that we make to own our choices and to keep trying to do better. For parts of life, the events were of the type that no person can fully recover from them, and then for much of life, Dad taught a lesson in how to dust off, get back up and display a fierce loyalty and an endless appreciation for forgiveness, kindness and love. Redemption comes in many forms, and hope is often the only thing that one has to hang on to. My hope for my Dad is that he finds the peace that has alluded him on this earth and that he knows that his life had an impact on others (it did on me); that his ability to face blindness, a memory that betrayed him often, solitude and a lack of outside contact in this COVID driven world did not go unnoticed. He was not alone-you never really are if even one person holds you in his or her heart and you have a faith that does not bend in the face of difficulty. He found great pride and peace in sharing a love of history with his oldest Grandson, knowing that his other Grandson was carrying on the Smith tradition in the Post Office and that his Granddaughters were strong, smart and the kind of souls that would change this world one day. Most of all, my Dad taught me that we can carry regret and know that it will never go away, and at the same time, not give up. I watched him change over the years and open his mind and heart more, which in the midst of true reflection, is not always easy. Not a day went by when he did not thank me for being there and when we didn't both utter the line, "That's what family does". He had my back when I needed it, and I had his-I'm thankful for that opportunity and the chance for us to find peace with each other. We shared an affinity for Jack London's writing. I think partly from the sheer power and truth of his words and partly from identifying with the life that he led and the battles he fought. Perhaps the quote that represents my Dad's approach to life most accurately is: "Life is not always a matter of holding good cards, but sometimes, playing a poor hand well". May you find peace and a better hand in the next life. Thank you for helping me to learn that imperfection and pain are often the best teachers, and that if people stick together and learn to balance accountability and forgiveness, you can make it a pretty good day after all. Love you Dad. See you in the next life. The family will hold a private, family-only service.