Russell Bittner was a force of nature to all who knew him. The power of his personality was impactful among his inner circle, but also to anyone who happened to encounter him along his journey. Where he went he left an impression.

Richard Russell Bittner, known to his friends and family as “Russell,” passed away on January 23, 2025, age 74, in New York City. He is survived by his two children, Chris and Alex, their partners, Bonnie and Alex, and his granddaughter Odesa.

Russell was born in Westfield, New Jersey, but spent most of his childhood in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. He attended Fort Lauderdale High School and studied at Davidson College before pausing his studies to embark on a decade-long adventure to Europe. It was there that he became fluent in seven languages. After returning home, he graduated from Columbia University with a degree in Philosophy.

Russell loved to read and write. He was a published poet, novelist and short story writer. He was also a skillful photographer and landscaper. He could turn a junky backyard in Brooklyn into an oasis. He was a true renaissance man- brilliant, curious, well-rounded, and experienced.

Russell was a friend to many, often those who needed one. Sometimes he seemed to have walked off one of the pages of the very books he so adored. He was also our father. He was always curious about what it meant to live, how to live, and for what one intended to live for. He lived for his children, and he took immense pleasure in their company and in the vicissitudes of their lives.

He treated strangers with courtesy, grace, and dignity. He was wickedly sentimental but on his own terms. He was a hard man with a soft heart. While ostensibly “of his time,” he waltzed through the world unconstrained by societal norms. He was absolutely unique. In his own particular way he was the consummate survivor and optimist. Throughout his time, whether it was at the highest of highs or lowest of lows, a sort of thoughtful “bon vivant,” someone that celebrated the small moments with everyone he could, as he cherished these otherwise unadorned moments in life.

Russell was a character, and someone who loved and cared beyond the measure of the words he seemed to have at his disposal.

Donations in Russell’s name can be made to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, one of his favorite spots, and the place in which he volunteered for many years.

Epitaph: To My Children

You are, grave girl, my daughter;

and you, brave boy, my son.

No writ, here wrought in rock, shall try

to rend that fact undone.

From the first orgasmic token

till all of us lie dead,

our thread shall not be broken,

nor aught of it gainsaid.

Your sperm are mine, re-booted,

your egg, my alter-egg;

the sum ofwhich-my last, best giftyou

freely may renege.

You're a splash ofmy libido,

a dash ofmy posthaste,

a burst of brash albedo with

élan vital to taste.

You, bright boy, are my soldier,

and you, sprite girl, my sun;

now let the two of you make hasteyour

race has just begun.

RRB

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