[Congressional Record Volume 158, Number 41 (Tuesday, March 13, 2012)]
[Senate]
[Pages S1610-S1613]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                       REMEMBERING CASEY RIBICOFF

 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?

                          ____________________