Scores of people packed into the big front room at Pres House on Wednesday afternoon to remember Robert Hicks -- known to many in Madison as Cosmo -- and share anecdotes about their encounters with him. Even if you are among the unfortunate few who missed the opportunity to encounter him yourself, the fact that almost all those Cosmo stories were greeted with laughter instead of tears gives you some idea of the impression he made on people. So does this: Those in attendance were laughing with Cosmo, not at him.
Since his death on Monday, March 31, Cosmo stories have been proliferating online, in a long and heartfelt discussion on TDPF and at The stories told at Wednesday's memorial gathering reflected many of these themes and much of their tone. But there was also the story of how he was born Robert Hicks on a foggy night 50 years ago out in Kirkland, Washington. There were stories about Cosmo at Steep 'n' Brew, and Hawk's, and some of the other joints he favored with his presence. Stories about how genuine and real and compassionate Cosmo was. Tales of his generosity. At the end of every story shared, laughter and applause. I first encountered Bob Hicks 30-something years ago in one of the hallways at Madison West High School, and didn't know what to make of him. I remember sensing some possibility that he might be capable of exhibiting almost any human behavior imaginable. For a scrawny freshman two years his junior, he provoked a kind of instinctive wariness. Well, more than that. In fact, the dude freaked me out -- intimidated the bejabbers out of me without doing anything more than being there. Walking down State Street to the Pres House for the occasion, something brought me to a standstill. Something was different. It wasn't obvious at first. Was it the roadwork that was going on? No, but something was missing. And then, in an instant, there it was. The absence of any possibility of running into Cosmo. Not just then, but ever. In the context of State Street, this felt wrong. More than that, in the context of Madison, it felt wrong. Cosmo was one of those people who make Madison Madison. Not every city enjoys the privilege of being home to distinctive individuals such as Cosmo. Not every city makes room for people who stand out from all the rest of us, as did Cosmo -- who now joins the pantheon of those personalities who made Madison more Madison by their presence and whose absence diminishes Madison and feels wrong. In contrast, everything about Wednesday's gathering felt right. There were photos of Hicks as a young boy and youth who grew up to become Cosmo. There was one of his jumpsuits, a pair of his jeans, one of his hats, one of his leather jackets. There was that well-worn Sting-Ray bike he rode, with its monkey bars and banana seat. There were all those stories. There was all that laughter and applause. Mind you, Robert Hicks is survived by his mother and step-father, a brother, four sisters, nieces and nephews and step-siblings and caregivers and friends and acquaintances who mourn his loss. There will be tears during the funeral service for Hicks on Saturday afternoon in Rio. But when your family and friends and neighbors and acquaintances and passersby gather to celebrate your life, as people gathered Wednesday to celebrate Cosmo's life, would you rather your life be celebrated with stories that provoke tears? Or would you rather be celebrated in tales that meet with more laughter and applause, as well as a few tears? Even if you never encountered him, you might be able to guess Cosmo's preference.
