[Pages S1610-S1613]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]

REMEMBERING CASEY RIBICOFF

<bullet> Mr. LIEBERMAN. Mr. President, last year we were all saddened
to learn of the passing of Casey Ribicoff, a remarkable woman and the
wife of former Connecticut Senator Abe Ribicoff. In honor of Mrs.
Ribicoff, I would like to have printed in the Record the moving
tributes that were given at her funeral by some of those who knew her
best.
There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in
the Record, as follows:

Senator Chris Dodd--Casey Ribicoff Eulogy

(Tuesday, Sept. 20, 2011)

Thirteen years ago, I stood in this same spot to say
goodbye and pay tribute to my friend and political mentor,
Senator Abe Ribicoff.
Peter, I am deeply honored that you asked me to share some
brief comments this morning to celebrate the life of one of
the smartest, most generous, elegant, funny, and downright
fascinating people any of us ever met--Abe's beloved partner,
Casey.
I first met Casey Ribicoff in 1974, during my first run for
Congress in Connecticut.
Senator Abe Ribicoff was himself up for re-election that
year and he invited me to campaign with him in New London. I
was excited. The former Judge, Congressman, Governor, Cabinet
Member, and Senator, was a larger-than-life figure in
Connecticut, and had been an influential force in American
politics for the previous 30 years.
My parents, who were deceased by 1974, had been friends and
colleagues of Abe Ribicoff's for many, many years, and I had
been in his presence on numerous occasions.
Now, there were many appropriate adjectives to describe the
Senator--able, thoughtful, perceptive, conscientious,
courageous, and eloquent, to name a few. Funny, fun-loving,
joyous--how shall I say this--were not exactly the words that
jumped out to you when you thought of the Senator. Abe
Ribicoff was a very serious guy.
So, on that fall day in 1974 when I first met Casey, right
away, I knew this woman was different--a vibrant, vital force
in any room. But on that day in 1974, something else was
different--Abe Ribicoff was different. Different than I had
ever seen him before. On that day, so many years ago, it was
wonderful to see the effect this striking vivacious woman had
on Abe Ribicoff.
I remember how much he laughed that day. In all the years I
had known him, I had never seen Abe Ribicoff have as much fun
as he was having with his lively Casey. What a difference she
made in his life.
That year, 1974, Abe Ribicoff was running for what he and
Casey knew would be his last term in the United States
Senate. I would wager that those last six years were among
the most enjoyable in their lives together. Casey and Abe
traveled widely, while deepening friendships with people
Casey brought into Abe's life and people with whom Abe had
developed a strong relationship in his public life.
When that last term was up in 1980, Abe was so gracious to
give the nominating speech for me to succeed him in the
United States Senate.

[[Page S1611]]

Standing there with Casey, in the Bushnell Auditorium in
Hartford, Connecticut, listening to Abe's speech, I felt her
warm hand reach down to hold mine. Without uttering a word,
Casey instinctively knew how much I missed my own parents on
that very special day.
Now, as touching and sensitive as Casey was, she also had a
glorious sense of humor.
Several weeks after that nominating convention, I was with
the Senator and Casey. I remember the Senator saying to me,
``Chris, I'll do anything I can to help you win election to
the Senate.''
Excitedly, I replied, ``Well, Senator, Monday morning at 6
am, I'm shaking hands at the Greenwich railroad station--
would you care to join me greeting commuters?''
To which Casey, in a nanosecond, interjected, ``If Abe was
willing to do that, young man, he would have run again
himself.'' Abe roared with laughter. More than thirty years
later, I still start smiling when I recall that moment.
And, by the way, having just recently retired from
electoral politics, I now fully understand her comment.
But that was Casey: warm, funny and feisty.
After Abe retired, as so many of you gathered here this
morning will recall, he and Casey lived in Manhattan and
their cherished retreat in Cornwall Bridge, where they
enjoyed so many wonderful friends and times.
But they weren't strangers to Washington either. Abe and
Casey would come down every now and then--not to lobby, but
to see old friends.
Abe never once walked onto the Senate floor after he
retired in 1980.
Instead, he and Casey would have lunch in the Senate dining
room, where a stream of his former colleagues, Democrats and
Republicans, would gather to reminisce, and spend time.
Casey Ribicoff was as loyal and supportive a friend as you
could ever have. And if you were her friend, as so many of
you were, everything about your life was ``the best.'' Every
new job you got was ``the best.'' Every accomplishment you
achieved was ``the best.'' There is nothing quite like having
such an enthusiastic friend.
Now, I don't want to say that Casey was a gossip. So I'll
just say that Casey Ribicoff liked to know what was going
on--never in a cruel way, but always with a sense of fun and
curiosity.
She knew someone in every room, and always found a moment
to sidle up and say, in that low, melodious voice of hers,
``Sooooooo?''
For those few here who may not have known Casey, let me
translate that word: ``tell me everything that's going on.''
For those of us who have faith in life beyond this one, I
can easily imagine her deeply engaged in conversation, not
just with the bright lights of her own time, but with the
great personalities of centuries past. I keep imagining Casey
and Oscar Wilde getting along famously.
I called Casey a week or two before she passed away. I
wanted to speak with her in my new capacity as chairman of
the Motion Picture Association of America to get some advice.
I had this idea. With this year being the 100th anniversary
of Ronald Reagan's birth, there were political tributes to
his life and career, but it struck me that more than half of
the President's adult life was spent in the movie business,
at Warner Brothers--and the Motion Picture business might
want to recognize the President's years in the movies.
I wanted to write Mrs. Reagan to see how she'd feel about
such an event to be held at the Motion Picture Association
offices in Washington. But I was smart enough to call Casey
first.
I knew that Casey and Nancy Reagan had developed a great
friendship due to the fact that both of their husbands had
suffered from Alzheimer's. I knew that if Casey thought that
such an event honoring President Reagan was a good idea, she
would share that with Mrs. Reagan.
And Casey, in that unforgettable voice, immediately and
enthusiastically said, ``I'll talk to Nancy.'' And she did.
On November 14th, we are going to have an evening of
recognition for President Reagan, and how I wish that Casey
Ribicoff were going to be there.
Allow me to conclude these remarks on this note: it is a
common refrain these days that we don't have enough leaders
like Abe Ribicoff in Washington. I think part of the reason
for that is that we don't have enough people like Casey
Ribicoff in Washington these days either.
Our politics has lost a lot of its civility, because our
political community has lost so much of its humanity. Casey
Ribicoff had an abundance of both.
She brought intelligence, laughter, warmth and enthusiasm,
not just to Abe's life, but to his and her world. And she did
it with a natural grace and timeless elegance.
To her sister June and nephew, son Peter, her daughter-in-
law, Angela, and her grandchildren--my former Senate Page
Andrew, Jake, and Jessica--I offer my deepest condolences and
my deepest appreciation for the many gifts Casey Ribicoff
gave to so many others in her life.
____

Remarks by Peter Mathes

Every son likes to think of his mother as special . . . but
in my case, as you all know, it's absolutely true. She was
one of a kind, and as everyone has said, trying to capture
who she was and what she meant to us is simply impossible.
But if you were lucky enough to have known her . . . to be
someone that she loved, you know just how special that was
and how it can never be replaced.
You all know she had a strong sense of what was right . . .
and what was wrong. She seemed to always do just the right
thing and she had a perfect sense of style that defined her
life. . . . You can only imagine how stress free it was to be
her son!
I've heard some of you say that she could be ``tough'' on
you if she thought you were doing something she thought was
wrong . . . really? Welcome to MY world!
But she was only tough on the ones she loved, and her love
for me was unconditional . . . but she was always clear about
what she thought . . . from the color of a tie to what I
should do in any situation. She had strong opinions . . . and
the most annoying thing of all, and something that I would
probably never admit to her, was that she was usually right!
But It was this sense of ethics . . . integrity, character
and honesty that she instilled in me from an early age that I
am most grateful for.
As many of you know, my mother was a great listener . . .
she had the ability to understand and simplify everything.
How many times did you tell her a long, complex story only
to hear her say: ``listen, the bottom line is . . .''? And in
two sentences she was able to cut to the heart of the matter.
As I look out at all of you I see friends from every part
of her life. From Chicago to Miami Beach . . . Connecticut,
Washington and New York.
The fact that you have been in each other's lives for so
long is a testament to the kind of person she was . . . In
order to have friends like this, you have to know how to be a
friend . . . and no one knew that more than Mom.
She was loyal and devoted, and seemed to have an endless
capacity to love . . . and she cherished each friendship. . .
.
One of the great gifts that I received from my mother is
each one of you sitting here today . . . You became her
family you became my family . . . you became our family.
There was a recent piece in the Sunday Times about how the
word ``authentic'' is suddenly back in fashion. As I read it,
I thought about my mother and how, perhaps, this is the word
that actually best describes her.
But perhaps the biggest miracle that happened for my
mother, and for me, was when Abe came into our lives.
They had a love for each other that is rarely seen, and my
mother kept the memory of Abe and that love alive until the
day she died.
She never traveled without a photo of her Abe on the
nightstand . . . in fact she continued to celebrate their
anniversary even after he died.
And this year was no different. Even though she was so sick
she told us all about the day they married and we celebrated
together with a bottle of champagne just as they always did.
Abe was the love of her life and a second father to me . .
. And of all the things I learned from them, nothing was more
important than how they loved each other and how they
cherished and protected that love.
She showed me that when you are with the right person it
brings out the best in you, which is why she was so happy
when I married Angela. She saw in us that rare love that
she'd found with Abe and she talked about how this is the
greatest gift of all.
I'll never forget when I first told my mother about Angela.
Of course one of the first questions she asked was: ``What
does she do?'' I told her she was the head of ABC Daytime, so
she immediately hung up on me and hit speed dial for Barbara
Walters to check her out.
Barbara simply said: ``Yes, I do know her. She's my boss.''
So you know how happy THAT made her. Over the years she and
Angela were more like mother and daughter . . . in fact I
tell everyone that Angela became the daughter and I became
the son-in-law she always wanted! But the truth is seeing how
much they loved each other was a gift to me.
Like you, when I think of my mother I think of her spirit
and how she lived life to the fullest. . . .
The very first thing she said to the doctor when she was
diagnosed was: ``I've had almost 90 great years. . . . NO ONE
has had a better life than I''. . . . She was in control of
her life from the very beginning until the very end.
I've always been impressed with the way she lived her life,
but nothing was more impressive than watching the way she
chose to leave it.
Never once did she feel sorry for herself or question ``why
me''. She took the news as part of life . . . she couldn't
fix it so she simply dealt with it and moved on.
She spoke or emailed with many of you until the end, but in
the last months and especially in the last weeks, Angela and
I got to see this unbelievable strength of character first
hand.
She never complained . . . she wanted her life to be as
normal as possible. She continued to read 3 or 4 newspapers a
day and still had strong opinions on what was happening in
the world and what was happening in the world of fashion!

[[Page S1612]]

Angela and I were with her in her final hours. . . . Each
tightly holding her hand, telling her how loved and how
special she was until she took her last breath. It was an
indescribable gift for each of us.
My mother was the first person I saw when I came into this
world and I was the last person she saw when she left it.
And have no doubt . . . she was Casey until the very end!
She still looked beautiful and was as intellectually
curious as ever. . . .
And of course, she still wanted to hear the gossip from all
of you!
We gave her an iPad for Mother's Day and in many ways it
became her life line. She was emailing and reading on it
until the end. . . . But . . . her confessed addiction on it
was playing solitaire!
In fact, when I opened her iPad after she'd gone, the first
screen that popped up was the score from her last game of
solitaire. She'd had a high score . . . and it read: ``YOU
WON! Congratulations you aced the game!''
And that you did Mom . . . you aced the game of life and
made us all better because of it. I miss you and I love you.
____

Remarks of Angela Mathes

First of all Jessye, I have to say thank you. I remember
when Casey spoke with Rabbi Sobel and told him that she
thought it would be ``Divine'' if you were to sing ``a little
Duke Ellington'' . . . and I have to say that you took divine
to a whole new level!
Chris, Barbara . . . I can't tell you what it feels like
listening to you talk about Casey.
And now, what it feels like standing here and seeing how
many people have come to celebrate my mother-in-law's
incredible life . . . Thinking of how many lives she's
touched.
But as many of her close friends will understand, the first
thing I thought of was calling her to tell her what she
missed . . .
Although I'm sure, as usual, she already knows all about
it!
And if there's anyone here who doubts that she still has
that power, I'd like to remind you that she's been sending
small signs that prove you're wrong: like the earthquake in
New York the day after she died . . . and the hurricane 3
days after her burial!
As I was preparing for this tribute, I struggled trying to
find the words that best describe Casey . . . I had the same
problems I do when I try to describe her to people she's
never met.
One problem is trying to use ordinary words to describe an
extraordinary person.
Although for me, the biggest problem is that the first word
anyone hears is: ``mother-in-law''. . . . And it immediately
sends a chill down their spine. . . .
It's like hearing the words: ``teenage daughter'' . . .
Honestly, you can't imagine wanting to spend a lot of time
with either one of them!
But as many of you know, that wasn't the case with us . . .
Casey and I were very close . . . We spoke 3 or 4 times a day
for years.
I never felt like a ``daughter-in-law'' . . . Peter and I
were just ``the kids'', and as I used to tell her: ``you
can't get any better than that.''
We often talked about our mothers. About how much we loved
them and how much we missed them . . . and I remember asking
her one day to tell me what her mom was like.
She just smiled and said: ``she was DEE-lish!'' . . .
That when she walked into a room, everything seemed to
change . . . she made everyone in the room smile.
And I told Casey that THAT was actually the perfect
description of HER! Because it wasn't only about who she was,
but it was more about how knowing her enhanced YOUR life!
She was generous with her love to a lot of people, but with
me, she was generous in every way. And over the years she's
given me many very special gifts. . . .
Most of them came with a story, of how Abe had found it for
her, and now she wanted to share it with me.
She told me just how he gave her the gift . . . where she
wore it . . . why she loved it. Each thing represented part
of her life's story and for me it was a remarkable
experience!
But of course, this was Casey. . . . So each thing also
came with a set of explicit ``suggestions'': ``I always wear
these 2 things together . . . of course, YOU can choose to
wear it anyway you wish, it's up to you, but they do look
best together.''
Now for those of you who don't speak ``Casey'', let me
assure you, that it was NEVER EVER ``up to me''!
She taught me more, about the things in life I thought I
already knew all about, like the importance of friendship,
loyalty, and discretion. . . .
And she also taught me some very important things that I
never knew, like: Never wear a watch to a formal affair;
always wear your pins high not low; and never put moisturizer
on your nose . . . it clogs the pores.
Over the past 10 years, and especially over the last 5
months, she shared a lot of stories with Peter and me . . .
She said that over her many years, she ``collected'' a lot
of things, but what she treasured most was her collection of
wonderful friends.
You know how much she loved you . . . you were her family,
and I know that she'd be angry with me if I didn't remind you
of that.
But you also need to know that the way you supported her,
and supported Peter and me over these last difficult months,
has meant more to us than we will ever be able to tell you.
I'm sure that everyone here has some GREAT Casey stories .
. . and so you can imagine how hard it was to try to narrow
it down to just one or two.
She was beautiful on the inside and the outside . . . had
that great sense of humor, was so smart, so confident . . .
she didn't suffer fools, and you can only imagine that,
coming from an Italian Mother, how in awe I was at something
I'd never experienced before: someone with no-guilt and no
regrets!
Casey taught by example.
She showed us all how to live, and in the end, she showed
us how to leave this world with that same grace, dignity,
sense of humor and style.
And make no mistake . . . she NEVER stopped living life on
her terms.
One minute she was telling Rabbi Sobel exactly what she
wanted done at her memorial service . . . dictating her death
notice to Peter, and the next, she and I were in Akris buying
a few little jackets for her to wear in the summer!
One day about a month or so after she was diagnosed, she
called me at home about 9:00 in the morning to tell me she
had an idea . . . she was thinking of selling a few things on
eBay . . . eBay?!
She was 89 years old with lung cancer . . . ONLY Casey!
But Casey told Peter and me 2 things to remember for this
memorial:
First: try to hold it together.
And second: keep it short. Two things, might I mention, she
knew would be impossible for me to do!
She'd say: ``it's called: get real!''
So, for her, I'll try my best to ``get real'' and tell her
what's on my mind:
My Dear Casey,
Thank you . . . thank you for taking me into your life, and
into your heart. . . .
For always listening and giving me the best advice in
difficult times, and being there to make the good times even
better. . . .
For confiding in me, and sharing with me all the wonderful
moments of your life.
And for encouraging me, and showing me how to enjoy every
moment of mine.
I love you.
And I will think of you, and miss you every day for the
rest of my life.
Peter and I will always be your ``kids'' . . . and we will
keep you alive in our hearts forever.
____

Remarks of Barbara Walters

I am Barbara Walters and I am here to represent all of you,
her dear friends. She was something else, wasn't she? All the
things most people strive to be, she just was. Can't you see
her? Elegant. Smart. (She took computer lessons at 80). Fun.
Stunning: Black hair, red lips, big smile. Mmm, maybe too
thin, but that was part of her look . . . Tom Brokaw
described her as ``a great dame.''
She was the most loving mother to son, Peter and Angela,
the daughter-in-law whom she considered to be her daughter.
And grandmother to Andrew whom she called the perfect
grandson and also so proud of Angela's daughter, Jessica. And
then there was Abe . . ., the love of her life.
On her tombstone Casey has asked to have engraved, ``She
was his wife.'' Of her own life she said, ``I loved every bit
of it.'' When Abe was alive, he and Casey were probably the
most popular and delightful couple in New York. Casey herself
was very active. She was on the board of the Kennedy Center
and PBS/WNET. She entertained, enjoyed the theatre-dinner
parties and people. She was a great friend to women. How I
miss our morning phone calls. She brightened my day and she
would love to have heard about this morning. And who came--
and who didn't come!
But I want to talk now not of Casey's manner of living but
of her manner of death. It was last March when on one of our
frequent phone calls I asked routinely, ``What's new''? And
Casey answered, ``I'm pregnant.'' At age 88, that was a good
trick. I laughed and said, ``name the baby after me,
please.'' Then she went on, in the same tone, ``No I have
lung cancer.'' For a second, I thought she was still kidding.
But then, I realized, she wasn't. Said so matter of factly,
``I have lung cancer.'' I couldn't believe it. There were no
tears in her voice. No ``why me? Just that . . . ``I have
lung cancer.'' It had not been diagnosed until recently. It
was inoperable. She was not going to have any treatment.
``Just please'' she said, ``continue to call. Send the
emails. Let me know what's going on with all the pals.'' And
pals she had. She was the best friend when you were well and
a tireless miracle worker when you were not. Doctor's
appointments . . . she was there for you. She went with Bill
Blass for his every doctor's appointment. She was counselor,
friend and comfort to Jerry Zipkin, Glenn Birnbaum and Nick
Dunn. Thanksgiving: she took a table every year for all the
single guys who might be alone. The dinners became tradition.
She was their Auntie Mame. Now those four words, ``I have
lung cancer.''
Peter and Angela began to come in from California almost
every week. They wanted to share as many of Casey's good
days, as well as the bad that were to come. At first, she
could go out a bit . . . maybe to lunch. Then she might allow
a friend to pop over. That soon got to be too much for her.
But the phone calls were fine . . . she took them all . . .
until they also became too much. Exhaustion took over.

[[Page S1613]]

Still the emails back and forth continued . . . Less than a
week before she died, she was answering emails. ``How are
you?'' she would ask. ``How was the party?'' ``What do you
think of Michele Bachmann?'' From March to her death on
August I never once heard her sob. I never once heard her
complain. Or question her fate. When her son, asked in a
moment of intimacy, if she was afraid, she said ``no'' and
repeated what a wonderful life she'd had. Peter and Angela
were with her until the end. Thank heaven, she was never in
pain. As she lay in bed, looking frail but beautiful, Peter
held one of her hands, Angela the other. She knew they were
with her.
I am telling you all this because Casey not only taught us
how to live. She taught us how to die.
After her death, they found a secret stash of cigarettes.
Those damn cigarettes.
Oh my darling Casey, there isn't one of us in this sacred
room whose life you haven't touched, not one who didn't love
you. How could we not?<bullet>

____________________