Comments by Jamie Greene, Long-time Friend

"There's nothing nicer than a Tricer.”

That line of Rob's, spoken with a sly grin and a twinkle in his eye, will always remind us that he loved us and we loved him.

For over forty years, Rob was my best friend. I cannot recall a time in the last four decades when I was not sharing with him, consulting with him, venting to him, or laughing with him. He was there at every turn. And so, I’m not sure how to tell his story in five minutes, but I’m going to try.

Story: I met Rob Trice in 1985 within hours of moving into our dorm at UVA. In the few days that followed, Rob introduced me to many of the people who would become my closest lifelong friends. During that first year, Rob and I conspired to make more than a few questionable decisions. But our friendship was cemented during Spring Break 1986 on what was supposed to be a four-day hike on the Appalachian Trail. Rob was fond of the seven Ps: “Proper prior planning prevents piss poor performance.” We did plan for that trip, but none of the planning included checking the weather forecast for the week ahead. So when the front rolled in on the first night, fog enveloped the ridgeline, and the snow started to fall, we were unprepared. We had not packed hats, gloves, or jackets...needless to say this performance was definitely piss poor.

The rest of the details of that trip are funny but irrelevant. What matters is that by the end of that first year at UVA, I knew that I had found a lifelong friend who was smart, funny, and shared my love of the outdoors...a friend who effortlessly brought people together and who always managed to look on the bright side.

Story: Those of us who knew Rob from UVA sometimes struggled to reconcile the rugby playing goofball we knew with the professional success he enjoyed. We assumed that he took on a different persona when he was doing his work. When we lost him, we realized there was no other persona. We figured out that we all knew the same Rob - because no matter what, he was always being himself. No matter the connection, the country, or the language - everyone used the same words to describe him. Force of Nature. Kind. Smart. Humble. Generous. Funny. In the months since Rob died, I’ve read a ton of social media posts about him and how he impacted other people’s lives. I’ve talked with friends, shared stories and feelings and memories. People have shared how when he entered a room there was a notable shift, because the room got brighter. And how Rob loved being in the spotlight because he could make people laugh - and while he was there maybe show off just a little bit. And how he loved to focus his full attention on you - he heard what you said, he heard what you didn’t say, and he didn’t hesitate to call bullshit.

Someone named Mark wrote, “I just assumed Rob would go on forever.”

Me too, Mark.

Story: In 2012, after nearly two decades in the venture capital world, Rob and Wendy moved to Pescadero, California. On a professional level, he turned his VC and tech expertise toward agriculture. But at home he was a farmer and an entrepreneur.

Wait - Rob? A farmer? That was on zero bingo cards at UVA.

Anyway, in Pescadero he learned how to drive - and how not to drive - a tractor. He brought goats to his fields to reestablish native grasses. He bought and operated a food truck. Best of all, he made popsicles. Not just any old popsicles: Tricicles.

In the years after he settled in Pescadero, we didn’t talk much about the ag tech work he was doing. Instead, we talked about what he loved most: his family.

Rob’s pride and love for his family was central to who he was. He never failed to brag about his sister Samantha's achievements in the world of Montessori. I also knew all about his mom's rowing career and the scare that his dad gave everyone last summer.

And then there’s Wendy. I remember talking to Rob shortly after he met her. “Greene," he said, “I’ve met the one.” While many things in Rob’s life came easy to him, Wendy did not. She made him work for it. Rob told me about a woman who was smart, athletic, who knew horses and loved the West - did I mention smart? That’s why he had to work so hard. But work he did. And it paid off, because they married in July of 1995 and spent the next 30 years building a beautiful, rich life together.

Story: Last May, a small group of UVA friends met in Nashville for a mini-reunion. We spent two days drinking coffee, eating pizza, laughing about stories from when we were young, and sharing stories about our lives today. This gave Rob two whole days to show off the scars he had from the surgery to remove his thymoma.

One afternoon, as we were wandering around Nashville, we came across a sign outside the Whiskey River Saloon that said “Ride the Bull” and that’s all Rob needed to hear.

You know where this is going.

Despite the fact that he was feeling a little under the weather, Rob would not let this challenge go unanswered. And so, donning a cowboy hat and with Johnny Cash’s Cocaine Blues playing in the background, he mounted the bull and rode it for over 30 seconds. The bar is 8 seconds - aaand that’s Rob.

I will never understand losing someone so vibrant, so funny, and so fully alive. But I think that his passing has crystalized the degree to which people across the globe loved Rob, depended on Rob, looked forward to seeing him, and were grateful to have him in their lives.

Forty years is a long time. Long enough that a huge part of who I am is a reflection of Rob and his influence on my life. I carry him with me still, and will forever.

I am a better person because I knew - and loved - Rob Trice.