When visitors meet Rich Armstrong for the first time, the introduction usually goes about the same way. Someone smiles and says, “You must be Rich.” He smiles back, gentle and a little amused, and replies, “Just in name only.”
It is the kind of quiet humor that carries both grace and honesty. Rich Armstrong is sight impaired. The condition traces back to his premature birth, when the blood vessels in his eyes never fully developed the way they should have. Over time those vessels have weakened further, gradually taking more of his vision. Yet spending even a short time with Rich and his wife Pat makes it clear that the name still fits in ways that matter. Their life together has been rich in the truest sense of the word, shaped by miles traveled, people served, and a partnership that has quietly endured for more than forty years.
Rich grew up in Norfolk. Because of his vision, he began school at the Virginia School for the Deaf and Blind in Staunton when he was just four years old. His twin brother, who is fully blind, attended there as well. Those early years required resilience, patience, and determination, qualities that would remain constant throughout his life. Later Rich transitioned into public school back in Norfolk, finishing his education there before heading to college. His career eventually led him into electronics through an apprenticeship program where he worked on systems for F-14 aircraft. Over time that work evolved into a career in the computer field, where his natural instinct for solving problems made him the person others often relied upon.
Pat’s story began outside Richmond in Henrico County. She became a teacher and spent nineteen years in the classroom, mostly teaching elementary school. Teaching suited her. It offered the chance to guide young students through the early chapters of their lives, to watch curiosity grow, and to help children find confidence in themselves. For a year she even taught in California with a college roommate before returning to Virginia and continuing her work in education. Those years in the classroom shaped the warmth and steadiness that still define her today.
Their lives intersected in May of 1984 at a statewide bicycling and camping weekend near Ashland. Cyclists from across Virginia had gathered for the event, bringing tents, bicycles, and the easy friendships that often form when people share the same road. Rich had come from Norfolk with members of the Tidewater Bicycle Association, where he served as president. Pat attended with cyclists from the Richmond area.
One morning a small group decided to drive into town for breakfast, and Pat joined them. Later that day riders gathered again for one of the scheduled rides, about twenty five miles for most of the group. At the time it felt like nothing more than another pleasant ride among many. Yet somewhere along that stretch of road, something meaningful quietly began.
A few days later Pat called Rich. She and several others were planning to attend a cycling event his club was hosting the following weekend in Tidewater. Rich offered to help arrange places for them to stay. The couple traveling with Pat stayed with another couple in the club. Pat and her friend stayed at Rich’s house. He gave them the master bedroom and slept on the sofa.
Small gestures have a way of revealing character. That small act of hospitality was one of the first hints of the partnership that would follow.
Less than a year later they were married.
Their wedding took place in April of 1985. Pat was still teaching in Richmond and wanted to finish the school year there, while Rich was working in Norfolk. The early months of their marriage required patience and flexibility. One weekend Rich drove to Richmond. The following weekend Pat drove to Norfolk. They kept that rhythm until the school year ended, when Pat accepted a teaching job in Virginia Beach and the two were finally able to settle in the same place.
Bicycling remained central to their lives for many years. Long rides and cycling events became regular parts of their routine together. Century rides of one hundred miles were not unusual. Cycling offered both adventure and companionship, allowing them to explore new places while building friendships with others who loved the road as much as they did. When they were married, they even left the church riding a tandem bicycle built for two, a quiet symbol of the life they were beginning side by side.
Over time those miles on bicycles gradually gave way to another shared adventure.
Camping became the next chapter of their story.
The Armstrong’s purchased a camper and began traveling throughout Virginia’s state parks. What started as a hobby slowly grew into a lifestyle rooted in service. They became camp hosts, volunteers who live in the parks and help visitors, assist staff, and keep campgrounds running smoothly. Their camper was a thirty three foot fifth wheel with three slide outs. Pat often describes it simply by saying, “It was like an apartment on wheels.”
Their volunteer work took them to several Virginia parks, including Douthat and Shenandoah River State Park. Eventually Bear Creek Lake State Park in Cumberland became their favorite. Each spring they arrived in April and stayed through May. Each fall they returned in September and often remained well into December. Year after year they returned to the same places, becoming part of the quiet community that forms wherever people share time, work, and purpose together.
Rich’s technical abilities quickly made him indispensable. If something needed wiring, repairing, or reprogramming, his help was often requested. At Massanetta Springs, where the couple also volunteered for many years, Rich installed the entire guest Wi Fi system across the campus so visitors could finally connect to the internet during their stay.
His work at Bear Creek Lake eventually led to something that brought joy to thousands of visitors.
The park hosted a drive through Christmas light display each year, and Rich eventually became responsible for programming the musical light sequences that synchronized the lights with the music. Each display required careful planning. A single animated figure might have multiple channels controlling blinking eyes, moving mouths, or glowing outlines. Every fraction of a second within the music had to be mapped precisely so the lights would dance in perfect time.
Programming the display often took weeks.
The results created something magical for visitors. Families drove slowly through tunnels and arches of lights before arriving at the musical display area. Children could meet Santa, families could warm themselves by a fire, and volunteers helped create memories that returned year after year.
Admission to the display was simple. Visitors could bring a new toy or make a donation for the Christmas Mother program serving families in Cumberland County. One year the display collected roughly seven hundred toys for local children. For Rich and Pat, the lights represented more than a holiday attraction. They represented a way to give back.
Their connection to Sunnyside began through their volunteer work at nearby Massanetta Springs. While attending church in the area they kept meeting people who lived across the road at Sunnyside. Each conversation seemed to end the same way.
“They all said, ‘We love it,’” Pat recalled.
Curiosity eventually brought them over for a visit in July of 2006. At that time the Glen neighborhood was still being built. Earth was being moved and cottages were slowly rising along the hillside. Sunnyside eventually called and offered them a cottage that was still under construction.
Pat walked up to see the house and immediately sensed that something was not right.
“There was a hill behind it,” she said. “It felt like being in a cave.”
They declined.
A second phone call arrived the following Monday. Another cottage had become available, this time with the floor plan they had hoped for from the beginning. Pat accepted the home and then called Rich at work.
“I’m taking a house,” she told him. “I’m not going to tell you which one.”
They moved into their cottage in the Glen in 2008. Rich still had several years before retirement, so the house initially served as a second home while they continued their work and volunteer commitments. Over time it became their permanent home.
For sixteen years the Glen cottage held the rhythm of their daily life.
Last spring they moved into the main building at Sunnyside. The move made practical sense. Dining, neighbors, and services are now just steps away. Rich’s declining vision also made towing their large camper unsafe after so many years of travel.
The bicycles have been passed along to family members. The camper has been parked for the final time.
Yet the spirit of the life they built remains.
Rich still receives occasional questions from park staff about the Christmas light programming he once created. Pat stays in touch with friends from their camping and volunteer years. Their memories are full of roads traveled, people helped, and seasons spent working quietly behind the scenes to make life better for others.
Gratitude for Sunnyside is woven deeply into their story.
Pat remembers breaking her femur during a fall several years ago and needing rehabilitation afterward. She called Sunnyside to explain the situation and ask what needed to happen next.
The response came immediately.
“Got it covered.”
For a couple who spent decades caring for others, those three words carried enormous meaning.
Life today moves at a gentler pace. Their story continues to reflect resilience, generosity, patience, and the steady strength of a partnership built across decades.
Rich often jokes that he is rich “in name only.”
Anyone who listens to their story understands that the truth is far richer than the joke suggests. Their wealth lives in the miles they have shared, the communities they have served, and the quiet, enduring love that carried them every step of the way.
