Sundays With Bob

I’ve had many friends named Bob over the years; the one I’m closest to these days is having some rough sledding. He’s been battling cancer for seven years, and although he and his partner Rita are the fiercest of warriors, the cancer has refused to take “no” for answer. Time, we find, is suddenly short.

As with many of my friendships, I don’t recall when it was that Lynn and I met Bob and Rita. I do recall the “what” of it: Lynn and I had taken a ballroom dancing class, and the next year a class started behind us, with Bob and Rita in it. New to the area, they invited all the ballroom dancers in both classes out to their house to dance. They rolled back the rug so we could all cut a rug and out of that an enduring friendship was born, celebrated now for uncounted years by eating breakfast together every Sunday.

Our friendship has included many things in addition to Sunday meals that start as breakfast and last long enough to be lunch — that whole “brunch” concept taken to long, lovely hours: there’s been a lot of dancing and numerous convivial parties, favors granted and received, happy occasions and sad ones. But always the constancy of a weekly breaking of toast together.

Even during the pandemic, when we along with the rest of the world inched along the growing pains of virtual group gatherings, Sunday mornings have been our thing. Not that it’s been static; hardly that. Our Sunday numbers once waxed to 11; now we are waning. Seasonal moves caused this number to dwindle, then we lost one friend, and lately we have been going to Bob since he can no longer come to us.

Over all these years of Sundays we have been to many restaurants, solved all the world’s problems many times over, celebrated, pontificated, placated, berated, commiserated, lamented, laughed much, talked more, cried some. We have journeyed along Life’s path together, to be perfectly maudlin about it.

Bob grew up in a different era, a product of a very Catholic upbringing in New York City. When money was tight his mother made soup from chicken feet and the streets sufficed as his playground. He is a veteran of the Vietnam era and since then has been an active member in both the American Legion and the VFW, back when we had a local chapter.

He married, had four children, divorced, worked for IBM and somewhere along the way landed in Colorado. He and Rita started in the Longmont area, considered an assortment of retirement options and came to Gunnison, where they both have embodied the essence of community.

Starting with dance. When our Arthur Murray-trained teacher lost her husband after several years of classes and decided to return to Wisconsin, Bob and Rita were the ones who stepped up, becoming the instructors, attending workshops, finding and if necessary hosting teachers who would conduct workshops . . . they were the force that continued the Gunnison ballroom scene. They also took tap classes.

Bob started a videography business, which of course required Rita’s assistance as they recorded weddings and other life events all across the county. Bob also helped modernize many people’s precious moments, converting their photographs, Super 8 and VHS memories to digital options.

The duo have been congenial hosts, both by opening their home to any number of guests and through numerous gatherings there, going clear back to that first dance. The big ones were the summer gathering around Rita’s birthday, and the winter solstice, not so far removed from Bob’s early December birthday, which Lynn often acknowledged by producing cupcakes in Bob’s preferred flavor of yellow cake with chocolate frosting.

Bob has been an excellent cook, particularly famed for his bread, although we have often accused him of cause and effect: every time he made soup, it snowed. For holidays they opened their house to all sorts of friends for giant meals Bob produced.

An inveterate garage saler, Bob is one of those folks who can take things apart but also — this is the part where I fail — put them back together. And not just the mechanical: he knows his way around and through a sentence as well.

But I think one of Bob’s best achievements is the one that never gets good press. This city boy wanted a dog, several years back, and his choice was Ruby, a rescue who had never been shown any love by anyone or anything. Ruby, a blue heeler, is hardly known for her warm fuzziness the way many dogs are, but Bob embraced her without hesitation. These days she has returned this fierce devotion by rarely leaving his side.

It may not have been the choice Bob intended to make when he decided to get his dog, but where many others would have faltered or given up, Bob has remained steadfast and given Ruby a life of love she would have otherwise never known. As a person with a lifetime of dogs, I admire him for that, even though I may not have told him.

To be honest, I don’t know how many more Sundays with Bob are in our future, even though we’re only a day away from the next. Last Sunday as we ate our takeout food at their dining table, Bob was very taken with the simple beauty surrounding us: the blue sky of a bright day, the bluebird that alighted at their feeder, the hidden string of lights that turns a portion of their ceiling an assortment of colors. It started green but Bob changed it to blue — it was kind of a bittersweet theme.

He was so appreciative of the kindness everyone has been showing to him of late. I told him, it’s because that’s what you’ve always put out there — it’s coming back to you. Good karma.

Bob’s has been a life well-lived in service to others, including his country during an unpopular war. Like his devotion to Ruby, he never wavered in his commitment to the United States, even when his fellow citizens turned their backs on him in those turbulent ’70s. He has a sad story about his mother being evicted from her own home by another relative: Bob was the one she called, and Bob was the one who went immediately to her rescue.

Bob has been a steadfast friend who is there for people when they need him — the only wonder of it is that he finds it remarkable now that these same people are glad to be able to show up for him.

The Sundays with Bob may be growing short, but these years — probably decades — of friendship will continue to offer the sort of nourishment Bob always provided from his kitchen, warm and wholesome and brimming with love. Love to you, Bob.

At the annual solstice party hosted by Bob and Rita, which they happily were able to host last December, there was always a sing-along with the same set of songs, including this one.

A Special Performance of “Rainbow Connection” from Kermit the Frog | The Muppets (youtube.com)