The date of December 19th, 1964 holds no significance for me, at least it never did before. Other than the fact that this particular day happened to be my 4-day old birthday, which I guess was important to somebody, I know it was to me, and I'm guessing that it probably was too my parents, as well. But even more noteworthy was that this was the day that I came home for the first time and met my 2 older brothers, Bob who was 5 at the time, and Jon who was 4. I distinctly remember looking at the oldest one and thinking, "is that really what I'm going to look like"? I didn't want to look like that. My mature 4-day old mind assessed him as being rather tall for his age, and kind of skinny. Now, however, this 49-year old mind can tell you honestly that I count any sort of resemblance to my big brother to be an honor and something to be cherished.
I grew up, I suppose, like a lot of other kids who had older brothers or sisters. I idolized everything about Bob and wanted to do all the things that he did. He was the first one to introduce me to the amazing world of music, as he spun 45's on a little turntable. A few years later he was able to branch out and play cassettes on a monotone tape player. I have many, many fond and wonderful memories of those days, but the one that will always be with me was the time when I was 5 or 6 and laying on the couch because I was sick. Bob played my favorite song for me and would rewind it when it was over and play it again and again. I asked Bob about this years later, and he didn't remember doing it, but I will never forget and every time that songs plays, I remember that day, years ago. And now In the light of Bob's passing that song will mean even more to me and probably bring tears with the flood of memories. In our later years, we started a band in our basement. Bob loved the drums and kept the timing and rhythm while a friend, Dave Yoder, played the electric guitar, and I played the bass.
Here, Bob appears to be imagining that he is astride his first drum stool and keeping the beat.
From very early on Bob also had a profound love for cars and had a fascination with anything on four wheels. His two biggest passions surrounding the automobile were classic hot rods and trucks. He took great personal pride in his cars, and those who knew him well will remember that he was always tinkering with something and regularly washing and waxing his cars. He spent a major portion of his life driving delivery vans and trucks, his last job was driving a large delivery truck for Safeway.
MAN!....what a RIDE!!!(...." a serious but I'm thinkin Dad that maybe we should tweak the suspension")
As impossible as this may sound, things were not always defined by brotherly affection or done with the other's personal welfare in mind. I was, as most little brothers are, a severe cramp in his style. When he would have friends over he would warn me to leave them alone, but despite any common sense, and maybe a little bit of a death wish on my part, I would always try to creep as close as I could and spy. Of course, Bob would always catch me and then the process would begin with him showing his feelings concerning my latest choice of activity. This usually involved Bob sitting on my chest with a hand on each of my shoulders as he leaned over me, his face about a foot above mine. He would then snort and snuffle and work up a huge spit/snot wad in his mouth, which he would then allow to dribble out of his mouth. Being completely pinned down, all I could do was helplessly watch as the glob would inch closer and closer to my face. After a sufficient amount of time and mental torture, he would suck the descending terror back up. I would say that he was successful about 50 to 60 percent of the time.
To say that Bob had a fascination with spit is a understatement. He used to spit 2 equal globs on a flat board and then tilt it up at an angle to see which one would slide to the end the fastest. He called these, "spit races" and was always amused. I don't remember any betting going on, like at a race track, but that's probably due to the fact that we didn't have any money as kids. Another memory surrounding spit and my brother Bob had to do with a Brittany pup that he called Spit because of it's love for Bob's liquid offerings and which became the biggest and fattest puppy in the liter of 8 or 9 from my Dad's dog Ginger. He would also spit on our toy racetrack so the cars would peel out and spin like they do on the real racetracks.
One of the classic older-brother to younger-brother interactions happened on a hot summer day when I was about 9. My dad had not yet put up a fence, which would divide the field behind his house in two, allowing the cows to only graze on half so the other side could grow. So the three boys,(Bob, Jon, and I), were sent out to the field to be shepherds of sorts, staggering ourselves down the middle of the field. The idea being that we would prevent the herd from crossing into the wrong half. There were, however, two serious flaws in this plan. The first one being that I was deathly afraid of the cows, and the second one being that the biggest steer chose me as the weakest link and began to run straight at the hole beside me. It would mean a lot of extra running and work for us if the cows got into the wrong side of the field, but I would not run in front of the approaching steer to head it off, so Bob began to yell and tell me in a very positive and helpful way just what he thought of my shepherding skills . I was scared and stood there watching as the steer just ran right past me. Bob, who was up hill and about 30 feet away from me, emphasized his thoughts by throwing his pitchfork straight at me. I of course went into immediate evasive maneuvers and just stood there, watching as the pitchfork arched through the air and speared into my leg. He then ran, scooped me up, and became the most attentive brother ever. He carried me all the way back up to the house with instructions that I was not to tell the parents. Only one tine of the pitchfork had entered my leg and it had bounced out so it wasn't that bad.
Look at that face.....could he really have thrown a pitchfork? Oh yes....
I have so many memories I just don't know where to stop. I could go on and on but instead of that I will just state how I feel. It is a devastating loss. Bob was a wonderful brother and much more than anything I could have ever wanted. But he also became a wonderful husband and then a father and then a grandfather. I will miss him terribly and I will never forget his warmth and sense of humor. Bob was also a very faithful son. He would call my parents every Sunday night just to check in and see how they were doing. Each of us has to be our own person but I cannot help but to hope that I become a little more like my big brother Bob. He was also very active in his church and had a personal relationship with Jesus Christ which brings me comfort knowing that I will see him again someday. Goodbye for now brother, I love you, you will always be in my heart and mind, and you will be missed......terribly.
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| From left to right- Myself, Bob, Jon, and our younger brother Andrew |
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| From left to right- Jon, Myself, Bob, and Andy |
Ve ry great writing as always wish I could write something like that for my mom thank you for including me in this one it was a tear jerker but great reading. Hugs
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