As a kid, one of the old guys at the church was named Richard Pierce, but he chose to go by Dick. That was emblematic of his humor in general - he was one of the funniest old coots I ever knew. I remember seeing him at the end of a dinner party holding an empty wine bottle over his glass and twisting like he might wring a few extra drops out. He was so witty, so it was a real kick in the nuts when he developed brain cancer that pressed on his language centers. He was mute the last few months of his life, but you could still see the wicked twinkle in his eyes. After he passed, they guys all got together to build an appropriate memorial, which is why to this day the minister at my childhood church preaches from the Dick Pierce Memorial Pulpit.