Samuel Robert Riceman Chappell
April 17, 1992 - November 20, 2012

"I was one of Sam's coaches at CapTel. He was a truly wonderful guy who always had a smile for me. I'm sad that I didn't get to know him better and I'm terribly sorry for your loss. "

"We are greater than our selves. Each of us lives in great part in the minds and hearts of all who know and love us, dwells securely in those warm and welcoming places. Deepest condolences for your terrible loss. May the the love and appreciation your family and friends felt and feel for Sam keep him alive for each and forever."

"I am sorry for you loss. Sam was in my second grade class the year I retired. I remember him as a quiet, kind and gentle boy who loved to read. I know the many wonderful memories you have of Sam wii help you through this sad time. With my deepest symmpathy."

"Dear Anne, Rick,Sophia, and Jacob, My deepest sympathy during this difficult time. I didn't know Sam but I know that jacob loved talking about his moments with his brother. Sounded like a terrific kid! My thoughts and prayers are with you all! "

"Every time I see/hear the Pocabel Canon video, I will think of him."

"dear Rick and Anne -- Sophia and Jacob: Our deepest sympathy -- we mourn the loss of this gifted young man. Thank you Rick for sharing with all of us your remembrance as Sam went off to kindergarten. It is so beautiful."

"Just a few days ago we had a conversation about animals that eventually led us to fond memories of Sam playing on the computer with his pet rat standing on his shoulder. We are deeply saddened by the loss. Sam was such a gentle soul and talented young man. We'll always be grateful for the kindness and generosity that he showed us each time we visited. Our hearts and prayers go out to you. "

"We are all terribly sad! Beck admired Sam so much, always exclaiming about his skills and kindness. Sending you lots of love -"

"Sam was a wonderful friend. It wasn't long ago that I planned to hang out, watch movies, and do what friends do, and the plan was to be one of relaxation, because I was moving out of my old apartment and planned to be done by the time we were going to hang out. But moving being what it is, things got more complicated and I called Sam to reschedule our plans, but, being the kind, selfless person that he was, showed up at our original time (without telling me) with his car emptied out to help me and my roommate move, and promptly, and with a trademark Sam smile for three there-and-back trips from Madison to Deerfield. He not only made a move-out much more enjoyable than I've ever experienced that afternoon, as well as more productive than it had been going with just me and my roommate, he did this selflessly, turning down offers to pay for gas and his time. It's easily one of the nicest things in recent memory that a friend has done for me, and exemplifies what made Sam a good friend "

"Our hearts are heavy upon hearing of this profound loss. It was just a few weeks ago that we were gathered in the Seeger's living room, singing praises about each other's pride and joys, our beloved children. Please know that our love and prayers are with you all."

"A rememberance written by Sam's father in 1997 in celebration of his beginning school On Thursday my son Sam started kindergarten and in honor of this event we revived an old family custom. In traditional East-European Jewish communities, boys who were about to begin cheder - or religious school, the only kind of school there was for them - were presented with a new slate. And on the slate his proud parents would write the letters of the Hebrew alphabet in honey, one after the other, each in turn to be licked off by the new student. The message was clear: learning is sweet, a lifelong obligation and pleasure. Times have changed. Sam won't be huddled against the Russian winter around a stove with a few other boys, each swaying back and forth in a different rhythm of prayer while studying the holy books. One thing at least is the same: in the Midwest, our winters are also long and cold, conducive to book learning. My son and his classments will be so well-dressed by their mothers as to be bright balls of goosedown and wool, assembled in laborious half-hour rituals which invariably end with the victims announcing that they have to pee. But when he trudges, bounces, meanders or cavorts to school, in all the amazing variety of alternatives which five-year-olds have to simple walking, he will arrive at a bright classroom which would have astonished his great-great-grandfather the cheder teacher. He will have the company of fifteen other boys _and_ girls, a hamster, plants, perhaps an aquarium full of tropical fish, and who knows what else. Instead of a slate we have been asked to provide him with a whole backpack full of art supplies. Outside, there are what seem to be acres of modern play equipment with platforms, sliding rings on iron rails, ladders with rungs gauged to little legs, and slides incorporating various sorts of twists and curves. All of them are carefully coated with layers of plastic and underlain by mounds of fragrant new wood chips. I'm envious, as you can probably tell. When we gave it a test run last weekend I couldn't fit through the tunnels. Sam, however, approved. Although this first separation is symbolic, I suppose, of a future era of homework and exams in which I won't play much of a part, education so far is pretty much a family activity. My wife has checked out _The First Book of Science Experiments_ from the library, which we have since been attempting with varying success. My favorite lessons, naturally enough, have been unplanned. Six months ago, when Sam asked how clouds are made, we boiled a pot of water and tossed it onto the driveway where it shot up a dramatic cumulus of steam. I felt clever at the time, less so the next morning when I tried to pull out the car over the resultant ice. A few weeks ago we went for a mushroom hunt through a local woods. It's been a wet summer and there were dozens of varieties to catch our interest, our attention limited only by the mosquitos which were also abundant. Sam, ignorant of formal taxonomy, still knows that he can stamp on puffballs to produce a sudden opaque brown burst of spores. We found cylindrical red mushrooms, little grey cups with no stalks at all, bright orange ones with broad caps that painted our fingers yellow, and fallen tree trunks covered with lacy shelves. He delighted in slime molds, both tough and mucinous at the same time like a demon's spittle. "Wash your hands before you eat anything," his mother reminded both of us. Sam's favorite destinations are our University's geology museum - to see the dinosaurs, _of course_ - and a local restaurant which features a animatronic rodents and bad pizza. You can tell which one I prefer, but I am glad that he finds joy in each. May he never lose it. In ten years, when he has learned that music means practicing and science means studying and literature long hours of careful reading, will he still rush to these subjects with laughter and impatience? So on Wednesday night we wrote out the letters. We used a plate instead of a chalkboard since my wife vetoed notebooks, paper, and other alternatives as unsanitary - and I was horrified at the image of my son licking a laptop screen. Also, he prefers maple syrup to honey. I couldn't object - after all, we _do_ live in Wisconsin. And he got to consume the twenty-six ABCs, a bonus of three letters over the Hebrew aleph-beys. But the message to Sam is the same as it has been through the generations. It has been remembered by some and forgotten by others. How much he will take it to heart will be his choice, but for now it is our turn to stand as proud parents and tell _him_: learning _is_ sweet. "

"Sam truly was a very special young man; he will be deeply missed. My heart goes out to you at this time of loss. I would have been delighted to have had him as my son-in-law someday.. "

"The last time I had extended contact with Sam was when I babysat for him years ago, and I still think of him as a gentle, clever, intelligent, ever-curious, sometimes mischievous little kid. Even as a small child, Sam had the rare ability to find very creative solutions to intricate problems. His kind nature and compassion for others (be they fellow humans or pet rats) always shone. I will miss him. My heart goes out to all those who were close to him."

"I moved away from Madison when Sam was a toddler, but I well remember him as a gentle boy with radiant eyes. I loved hearing about him as he grew up. My heart and prayers go out to you and your family; may you be comforted, in love and peace."

"Sam was such a wonderful young man. We were privileged to see him grow up from a gangly teen to a handsome young man. He always had a smile for us. We will miss him. Our hearts go out to you."

"That's a wonderful photo of Sam -- his smile radiates out and lights up the room. Our hearts and prayers are with Jacob, Sophie, Anne and Rick, and the rest of the Riceman-Chappell extended family. Peace be with you."

"As next-door neighbors, we watched Sam grow up. One of my favorite memories is of Sam with his pet rats which he sometimes transported under his shirt! He was a very sweet soul. We join many others who will miss him greatly."

"I used to help take care of Sam as a "mothers helper" when his little sister was about 1 year old. Sam was always one of the best, funniest, and smartest kids I ever got to spend time with. I've never been able to forget the time he had a friend over, and I walked away for about 10 minutes to help with Sophie, then came back to find that he and his friend had both colored their entire bodies with crayola markers. Whenever I see kids with markers, Sam almost always comes to mind, just standing there covered in bright multicolored stripes with the biggest guilty grin on his face. I haven't seen him in years, but I don't doubt that he brought a lot of joy and humor to those whose lives he touched. I'm going to miss you bud. "

"Sam and his family were the first people we met when we moved to Madison. Anne and I were in La Leche League together and my son and Sam were buddies from the age of 15 months. We lost touch when we moved to a different neighborhood and the boys grew up apart. We reconnected when Sam joined the BadgerBOTS, a city wide robotics club. He, my son, and another West High friend of Sam's, were in the same advanced program in high school. We shared many fun evenings when it was my turn to drive the boys home. He had a great sense of humor and lots of energy. He will be missed."