In Memoriam: Edward "Rick" Macsata

By: Brandon M. Macsata, CEO, ADAP Advocacy

The ADAP Blog has a longstanding tradition of presenting facts about policy issues, typically in the third person. On a rare occasion, our blog presents "opinion" pieces, and even more rarely, about something personal. I ask that you please indulge me this week to share some personal news about the passing of my father, Edward "Rick" Macsata.

Edward "Rick" Macsata

I do so because my father had a keen interest in ADAP Advocacy, not only because his son was the CEO. Upon learning about my HIV-diagnosis, my father asked me to educate him about the condition. I recall using a diagram shared by Dr. Princy N Kumar, chief of the Division of Infectious Diseases and Travel Medicine at MedStar Georgetown University Hospital, during one of her presentations at an ADAP Conference. When news stories would post about a possible cure, he would ask me if it was real.

My father met and relished in conversation with William "Bill" Arnold, Edward "Eddie" Hamilton, and Brent Shimmin, all of whom he will now join in Heaven. In fact, he met many of the people reading this memorial.

My father and my mother donated financially to the organization annually. He attended a congressional briefing hosted by ADAP Advocacy in Washington, DC, where he met former Senator Richard Burr (R-NC) and former Representative Donna Christensen (D-VI). He attended multiple wine-tasting fundraisers in the early years of our organization. He read nearly every report published by our organization, and most recently, he absolutely loved our 340B commercials, asking me why we couldn't run them in Connecticut so he could see them.

On January 6, 2026, at 10:02 a.m., my father hit the apex of the surly bounds of Earth, most likely straddling his 2006 Harley-Davidson Electra Glide, listening to Waylon Jennings’ "Good Hearted Woman." A lifelong resident of Torrington, Connecticut, he was known to those who knew and loved him as Rick, and they undoubtedly appreciated his unmatched precision with a measuring tape or construction levels. My father had two true loves in his life: my mother and her cooking. God called my father home, waving the checkered flag for the last time. Few could match his grasp and navigational prowess with an old-fashioned Atlas. Yet over the forty years since their mainstreaming in American households, almost anyone could operate a microwave oven better than he could. The stove was his nemesis, but a circular saw sang to him better than any music by the supergroup, The Highwaymen. He was stubborn, yet humble. He was stern, yet a big teddy bear. He was an immovable object, yet light as a feather. He was always right, followed only by admitting he was wrong. His life’s simple pleasures included lemon meringue pie, NASCAR, Kansas City Chiefs’ games on fall Sunday afternoons, Landline truckers’ magazine, Yuengling, Asiago Cheese, Clams Casino, grilled hamburgers, skiing, car roadshow programs, or watching sailboats on the Atlantic Ocean. But few things in his life brought him more joy than my mom’s kisses or his grandson’s intoxicating laughter. My father’s transition to the After Life, though a loss to those close to him, means Heaven has now added a devoted husband, loving father, and grandfather for the ages.

Grandpa with his little guy, Sebastian

No amount of education, career achievements, or lived experience can prepare us for the loss of a parent.

This summer, I gave my father the song by Luke Combs, “My Old Man Was Right,” because I knew in my heart that I was losing him to cancer. It was a painful self-admission, and it made me look inward at my feelings toward him. No words can express the gratitude that I hold in my heart for my father. Sometimes, I’m told that I'm too compassionate with people and that I offer to help too much. But I learned that compassion from my father. As a kid, I remember him helping a woman in need at the market when her car wouldn’t start. I'm often told that I work too hard. But I learned that work ethic from my father. As a kid, I remember how he poured his soul into every project. I also remember him always offering a helping hand to virtually anyone who walked into his life. He fixed my friend’s bike. He fixed our neighbor’s lawnmower. He fixed cars. He fixed faucets. I’m always helping the people in my life because that is all I ever saw my father do. I had the opportunity to share with my father that I am the man that I am today because he helped to shape me. 

Rest in peace, dad.

Edward "Rick" Macsata's Obituary: https://lnkd.in/eK4QF4Xt

Disclaimer: Guest blogs do not necessarily reflect the views of the ADAP Advocacy Association, but rather they provide a neutral platform whereby the author serves to promote open, honest discussion about public health-related issues and updates.