Remembering Bob

Little Harbour, Nova Scotia 9/27/18, 5:30 AM

Last night it took me a long time to be able to go to sleep and this morning I woke early and was unable to go back to sleep.  My mind was flooded with memories of Bob.

Last evening I received an email from Tom.  Bob had a stroke and had passed away.  I wasn't expecting this. Perhaps I should have.

Bob had his first stroke several weeks ago and had been in a facility which cares for people who have memory and associated problems.  Bob was a tough guy and I guess I was expecting him to recover and return home unlikely as that may have been.  In reality, I guess I was just in denial.

I don't know exactly when or where I first met Bob, but I guess it was 15 years or so ago. And I suspect it was at the City Cafe in Baltimore a 15-minute walk from my house where he and I would go for coffee.

Bob lived a couple of blocks from my house so he would walk over to my house and we would walk down to the cafe together.  Sometimes I would stand in my bay window perched out over the sidewalk with a good view up the street to where Bob would be walking down to my place.

And it was good to see him coming before his arrival for if I were upstairs his knocking on the door could be a bit unsettling as the front door on my house is old and a bit fragile and Bob could be insistent and impatient and shake the house or at least the door with the force of his knocking.

If I had to pick one word, I might describe Bob as a "curmudgeon".  Not everyone appreciated his personality.   But I did.  We had a similar wry sense of humor. He always got it when I said something a bit outrageous as a joke that others might not "get" and would immediately respond in kind.

He could be difficult. I would marvel with friends at what a "Saint" Barbara, was to be able to deal with Bob.  But to his credit, Bob knew, how lucky he was to have found his "sweetie" (his appellation).   And her steadfast support of Bob showed how much she well knew this and appreciated him.

Bob had a notebook where he kept track of all the cultural events in the city.  We shared a love for classical music and our great Baltimore Symphony Orchestra ("BSO") just a 10-minute walk from my house.

Often I would attend with my friend Diane and often we would meet up with Bob and Barbara at the table they had secured by going early and chat before the performance and during the intermission.

Occasionally I would walk down and attend the symphony with Linda.  But there were many times that I attended alone and on those times I was especially glad to find Bob sitting at a table either with Barbara or like me on his own before the performance.

People cough at the symphony.  I do so myself at times.  That can be distracting.  But, I find that listening to recordings with coughing in the background actually adds to the performance.  Makes it seem "real" and "live".

At least once a year at the BSO I would hear something that I've never heard at any other symphony. Not at the Philadelphia, nor the Boston, nor at the Symphony Nova Scotia or the Kiev, Lviv, or Odessa symphonies in Ukraine.   A sneeze accompanied by a very loud yell.

Bob and I seldom sat together at the symphony so I couldn't always see if that was Bob but I always knew that had to be Bob as I knew no other person who would do it, nor had I heard it in any other symphony hall but Baltimore's.  I tried, unsuccessfully, to convince Bob that he could sneeze without yelling at the same time but he remained unconvinced or, I think, more likely, chose not to believe and instead perversely enjoyed startling and drawing attention.

Over time I got to accept this disturbance and even found it amusing as did a guest conductor who rather than disapproving of this outrageously rude distraction turned around and with amazing grace and good nature acknowledged  Bob's "performance" just as he was about to wave his baton to start the evening's performance.

Bob was an artist.  He graduated with honors, Summa Cum Laude (I think) from the Sorbonne and taught at the Maryland Institute College of Art.  In the summer I would sometimes join him for coffee at another cafe, the Tavern, which has a nice courtyard in back where he would sometime paint his watercolors.

There, a City Paper reporter found him one day and I guess struck up a conversation from which he learned about Bob and wrote an article which I recall was entitled  "Baltimore's Most Interesting Man".  I just looked it up and see it now has a different title but the title I remember is quite appropriate given the amazing richness of his life and experiences.

Bob had indeed a most interesting life.  He served in the American army in Germany from where he learned to talk German.  And of course French at the Sorbonne.  He traveled all over the world including many exotic places where he had unique and unworldly experiences and much more including parts in plays and movies as described in the City Paper article.

He had lots of photos .. the old kind .. from a Kodak camera .. which he liked to show you.  One of my favorites was the one with him dressed elegantly standing next to his 1936 Packard automobile. And the one that had him dressed as the Pope for some theatre performance he was in.  So attired I think he looked more "Pope-like"  than any of those in recent memory.  And, dare I say if Popes were elected by the people rather than the Cardinals and if non-Catholics were allowed to vote I would gladly vote for Bob rather than any of those who have done such a poor job tending their flocks.

Another favorite picture Bob displayed was one which juxtaposed the Great Egyptian Pyramid with the U.S. Capitol building in Washington, D.C. in which the Capitol building appears dwarfed by the Pyramid.  I came to share Bob's fascination with the Great Pyramid and because of Bob and this perspective, I often think about it as I ponder the other mysteries of the universe when gazing up at the stars in Nova Scotia and the impossibility of this pyramid's creation in ancient or even modern times.

Upon further reflection, the word "curmudgeon" does not do Bob justice. Not even close. Quite to the contrary, Bob was often quite outgoing and friendly and would greet complete strangers we encountered in our walks. He carried treats to give to the dogs these strangers might have.  And, as my daughter reminded me, he gave out little ceramic frogs he had made of which she has two. He must have given out a hundred of these or maybe many more to friends and to complete strangers he would meet on the street often to their startled delight.

Bob's hearing declined in recent years and he experienced gradually increasing Dementia.  He was five years older than I and so I came to think of him as perhaps a kind of role model to emulate should my advancing years bring similar challenges.

Rather than withdrawing into his own thoughts. as I suspect I might do, he would be insistent that he be spoken to directly and loudly so he could hear and continue to participate.  And although there was certainly reason for him to be terrified with his increasing loss of memory, that is not what I saw.  Instead, he appeared to face this challenge with curiosity and a kind of bemused acceptance and would even draw attention to new observations he encountered of forgetfulness.

Of course, his ability to deal with these challenges was enormously aided by the tremendous support of Barbara and his friend Tom.  Support that along with a very strong will remarkably allowed him to continue to live independently up until the last couple of months of his life.

Losing a friend can happen anytime in life but as one gets older it seems to happen more frequently. Yet no matter how often it happens it seems to me to be a totally new experience.  And the reality of it takes time to settle in and accept.

For me, the hardest part will be when I go by myself to the symphony and out of habit look for Bob at his table and see he is no longer there.  I think that is when I will miss him the most.