Rolf Hamre passed away on October 8, 2018 after losing his battle this week with liver cancer. Sympathies to Nancy Holsinger Marsh, Rolf's cousin, his sister, Martha Gray Colver and his family and loved ones. 
Rolf's memorial service was held Friday, October 19th at All Saints Episcopal Church on 8787 River Road in Richmond, Virginia at 11:30 am.
John Ran shared the eulogy he wrote for Rolf's funeral That tribute to his dear friend has been placed under this photo.
You may find more information and share your memories or express your condolences by clicking on the link provided below this photograph.

 

"I’m one of many folks– maybe dozens – who have called Rolf Hamre “best friend.”  We met in Martinsville, Virginia on or about May 2, 1966 at his sixth birthday party. Our parents were old friends, and my dad had just moved us from Charlotte back to “the Ville” where he was going into partnership with Rolf’s uncle, Dr. Donald Holsinger.

My mom let me pick out his present, a pop gun that you could jam into the dirt and shoot mud clods with. He liked that a lot, he told me years later. I thought the party favors he handed out – six-inch plastic cowboys and Indians – were the coolest thing ever. Our bond was set that day, and we were inseparable whenever he was in town.

Early on, Rolf spent most summers on the Great Wicomico River, where he had other best friends: Hunky, Johnny, later Odis and others. I heard of their adventures each fall for years until he was sent off to Fork Union Military Academy. That lasted a few years, and then he was back, by then in junior high, where we were reunited. The bond was still just as strong, despite the time we spent apart. He loved spurring people to ask him what school he had come from so he could answer, “Fork U, buddy.”

But deep down, Rolf really was a no-nonsense fellow who had little patience for suffering fools. He was always very organized. He had a razor-sharp mind and could size you up in an instant, and he had a way with story-telling that was unmatched. He worked hard, but he knew how to play hard, too. And early on, he was a trend setter. From his visits to UVa to see his sister, Martha Gray, a first-year student at the time, he carried back home the preppy ways of mid-70s Charlottesville. Soon, everyone was following his lead and wearing LL Bean hunting mocs or bluchers with no socks, khakis, and polo shirts inside of oxford button downs, and shagging to “Be Young, Be Foolish, But Be Happy” and “Sixty Minute Man.” He led the charge.

Rolf was never afraid to chart his own course. I remember Mrs. Hamre dropping us off downtown on a Saturday morning. We were probably ninth graders, and we headed straight to the New York Hi Style Boutique, where he found these red and white six-inch stack heels on the clearance rack. Since he seemed to have always had a job, he always had money, and could afford such fashionable luxury. Nevertheless, he handed the shoes to me to hide them from his mom on the way home. Sure enough, though, he showed up at school the next week wearing them. He was one of a kind.

His basement “apartment” in their home on Sam Lions Trail was party central in high school. With its white beach cottage furniture and lime-green shag rug, complete with fireplace, wet bar and Rolf’s bed tucked in the corner, it always reminded me of Dean Martin’s bachelor pad in those Matt Helm movies of the 60s. He entertained a lot at his house back in the day. We made cocktails with names like Damn the Weather and Hop Skip and Go Naked. We played records by Country Joe & the Fish, the Isley Brothers, LTD and many more. We had a large time and made a ton of memories. Whenever I pass that house on Sam Lions Trail, no matter that it’s changed hands a dozen times and nearly forty years have passed, it’s still Rolf’s house.

Over the past week, I’ve talked to several folks who knew us well back in those days. Just about every one of them has brought up the comment my mother allegedly made about my best friend: “Money,” she supposedly said, “is not the root of all evil. Rolf is.”  I know the quote well, but I can assure you that it did not come from my mother. Rolf made it up. My mother recalled that line and laughed out loud over the phone earlier this week, because she always thought the world of him. He always charmed her, like he charmed everyone.

We finished up high school, and Rolf headed to University of South Carolina, and I ended up at Washington & Lee. Both of us had less-than-stellar first semesters, and he ended up here in Richmond working for a living. Before long, before he had even turned 21, he became a manager at WT O’Malley’s, a well-known watering hole at Sixth and Main downtown, where he made a bunch of new Richmond friends. And like me, they all became Rolf fans for life.

I recall coming from Lexington to visit him in Richmond for the first time. He was settled in, living in the Fan and working downtown. We headed out to Shockoe Slip that night and the management in every establishment greeted him with a smile and a handshake and called him by name. Everybody knew Rolf. He was just that guy. Rolf was always fearless. He just got down to business and before long, he had everyone eating out of his hand.

In 1984, when work took me to Virginia Beach, Rolf came down for New Year’s Eve. I managed to get us dates--both the young ladies were locals, not college girls, but blonde, attractive dental hygienists. “What school did y’all go to?” Rolf asked them. I flinched. When they replied, Norfolk Dental Hygienist School, he followed: “What sorority were y’all in?” That sort of set the tone for the evening. We weren’t good fits for our dates, but we had a heck of a time, and I still laugh out loud when I think back on it.

We moved on with our lives, Rolf working for Ferguson Enterprises in Maryland and living in Alexandria, while I worked at the beach and then Richmond. Of course, when the time came, I asked Rolf to be in my wedding. There, he met another of my groomsmen, my college roommate, Chris Peacock, who was moving to Washington and was looking for a place to live. Without hesitation, Rolf invited Chris to room with him, and the modern-day odd couple was launched. They were roommates for years and friends for the duration. Rolf was just always quick to help out when someone needed it.

A year or so later, my wife and I were visiting Richmond, and decided to stop by Wicomico Church to visit Rolf at the river house on our return to Virginia Beach. We got there around 2 p.m. on a Sunday to discover that Rolf and Hunky (Nelson Eads) had invented a new cocktail they called the Maui KA-POWIE. It was clear they had been testing this new libation for several hours prior to our arrival. We were served one (it was quite good – and quite potent), and Rolf announced we were going on a boat ride across the Chesapeake Bay to Tangier Island. Having never been there, we agreed to go, and off we went. Rolf could handle a boat like a pro--in the daytime, in the dark, clear-minded or with a full head of steam.  And he always had a knack for being in the right place at the right time. So it was no surprise as we crossed the bay to see birds dive bombing the surface of the water ahead. Rolf pointed at the two boat rods on the stern and told me to drop the lines in the water, which I did. Within minutes, we had eight or 10 of the prettiest, big bluefish I’d ever seen. So we put them in the fish box and headed on to Tangier, where we stayed maybe 10 minutes, turned around, and came back. The 30-year-old photo of us with those fish we caught sits on my mantle in Oklahoma City. He always had a knack of charming folks, but up until the end, he pretty much led a charmed life as well.

Rolf was always swift to share his heart and his goodness with the young ones – his nieces and nephew, his friends’ children--my two sons. He always had a playfulness with them that drew them to him like he was the Pied Piper. I remember in the 90s, when the Power Rangers were all the rage. My sons were no exceptions—they loved the super heroes in those yellow, red, blue, black, pink and green costumes. Uncle Rolf, as my sons called him, told Jack and Lewis that he was the “Brown Power Ranger.”

“But we’ve never seen the brown Power Ranger,” both boys countered.

“That’s because I’m fat and slow, and by the time I get there, the others have already finished taking care of the bad guys and left,” he told them.

I’m pretty sure the boys bought it.

As the years went on, and we grew older, we saw less and less of each other. Rolf’s career sent him to South Carolina and then to the Jersey shore, and back to Maryland, and I eventually ended up in Oklahoma, but Rolf was always one to stay in touch. When we talked on the phone, it was like we were 18 again, both of us stuffed like Siamese twins into the same big sweatshirt at our Mavahi senior show, singing “Inseparable.”

That’s never going to change. My friend will always be in my heart.

God speed, and rest well, Rolf. Love you like a brother."

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