Blog: The Passing of a Los Gatos Son

Ever since we moved to Los Gatos in 1978, my wife and I have done almost all of our dining out right here in Los Gatos … after all, where could you find a better selection of outstanding restaurants?

The one consistent exception has been Original Joe’s in San Jose. When Penelope and I first met, our neighborhood was downtown San Jose, and after finishing a long week at our respective jobs, a great Friday date was meeting at OJ’s: cocktails in the crowded bar while we waited for our name to creep up slowly on the maître di’s list. No reservations taken, and payment only in cash. That was OJ’s in the '70s.

Our relationship with OJ’s was cemented forever in 1980, when the new waiter on the scene was Randy Ritchie. As we got to know Randy, we learned that he was just my age and had grown up in Los Gatos. We also learned that his personality was simply unforgettable. He remembered everything about his loyal clientele. He loved kids, as we learned when Patrick was old enough to join us occasionally out for dinner. 

When Danny was born, the family connection was complete. As the boys grew up, OJ’s was the place to go for birthdays and at Christmas season when we would visit “Christmas in the Park” next door.

My own birthday is in July, so we would usually combine Father’s Day and dad’s birthday with a visit to OJ’s, where Randy never failed to put together a birthday rap, shouted out to the whole OJ’s dinner crowd.

I have saved a very nice collection of OJ’s take-out bags with those precious lyrics that Randy would scribble in the back room even while providing top service to his five tables.

One year we mentioned to Randy that we were planning a trip to the Cayman Islands to visit Patrick, who was living and diving on Grand Cayman. Before we knew it, the plan was set for Randy to come along … and what a wonderful Christmas that was! Through the years he shared every major family event with our boys: graduations, new girlfriends, first cars. 

But sometimes it was hard to dig back the other way, to get behind the curtain of Randy’s life. It is especially hard to learn now that we didn’t know he was sick, an illness that took him away from us last week.

As I’ve gotten into my 60s, it’s the time of life when the passing of relatives and friends is not a rarity. But this one has hit me especially hard. Maybe it’s because I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. Maybe it’s because I don’t know who cared for him at the end. Maybe it’s because he was not only part of my life, but part of the fabric of my whole family.

We went to OJ’s last night for dinner. The wait was just as long, the crowd just as noisy, the food just as good as always. There was even a waiter who, from the back of his tuxedo, looked sort of like Randy. I missed him terribly. But I also felt something. I knew I was in the place where Randy spent the happiest days of his life. I also knew that some part of him will always be there, and that I will still be able to visit his spirit.