As a teenager, Bob began many of his life-long hobbies. After taking shop class in high school, he began his wood-working hobby. He also decided he needed to learn how cars worked, so he took apart the engine of our old Pontiac family station wagon. And then he put it back together. He figured that was the way to really know how it worked. For the rest of his life then, he fixed his and his families cars himself.
But what Bob could fix was not limited to cars, he could fix everything! He was known throughout our relations for his abilities to fix and install/do anything. So when my Uncle Gerald died, who had the same abilities as Bob and a great tool chest, Aunt Faye thought Bob was the perfect person to inherit his tools, which he did. Bob then said to his Aunts Faye and Gerry, you now need to let me know when you need something fixed. And they did. Bob would go over to his Aunt Gerry’s house, Uncle Gerald’s tools in his hand, and installed a faucet, painted a bathroom, and did other installations.
He throughout his entire life fixed, installed, and upgraded my parents’ and our mother’s house. He was the most generous person I know with his time, always willing to help. He planted flowers, redesigned her gardens, fixed faucets, installed a disposal, installed new light fixtures, and the list goes on and on. He NEVER bragged or showed off all his efforts—he was always modest about his generosity and what he did for others.

Bob’s talents were MANY. He was an amazing pianist as well, really incredible. He could improvise beautifully and could play anything just by ear. When my mother moved out of our family house, he was the obvious one to inherit the family piano.

On the 4th of July, Bob and John (Judy’s husband) dug out several bushes at our mother’s house, working all day, planting flowers, and some beautiful rose bushes, trimming others, all beautifully in bloom today in memory of him.

In our middle school years we moved to the Town of Raymond and began a new school year. Bob was a great basketball player and his younger brother was no slouch either. They began the basketball season with Bob on the A team and Packy on the B team. Both teams dominated their leagues so much so the coaches on the other teams collaborated and complained to the WIAA that Bob and I were the same person. So one day the Principal and our Coach came to our classrooms and told us we were going on a road trip. They drove us to our rival schools and introduced us to the coaches. The rival coaches were dismayed that they were going to have a very tough season coming up. It would have taken the juice of 3 lemons to wipe the smile off of our Coach and Principals face.

Growing up during dinner time we played a family game every evening. The Spelling Bee game. My dad was the master of ceremonies and he would give each kid a word to spell and we would continue this for about a half an hour a night. We all loved it! Well the training and completion must have paid off. Bob was an incredible speller, 2nd only to our Dad. Bob won several rounds in the school spelling bee finally reaching the State competition. Dad gathered Mom and the 5 kids living at home and we took the road trip to the State Bee. We were all really excited none more than Dad. He was so proud of Bob! When Bob finished 2nd in the State my Dad gave Bob a big hug and told Bob that he couldn’t spell that word either. We miss you brother!

My mother opened her eyes, opened her new toilet, expressed mostly joy (which I cannot help but believe had a touch of disappointment to receive a new toilet as a gift), and then my dad, behind the camera, asked me to adjust the lighting since the picture wasn’t optimal for viewing.

“Emma, why don’t you go turn on the lamp for me?” he asked. “It’s just a little to dark. Could you please adjust the lighting?”

At which time I got up, walked to one of the new lamps, and adjusted the new arm or perhaps turned the light up a notch (another feature my dad liked about the new lamps – they had different levels of brightness). My mother did not turn around.

We continued to talk about “how great the new toilet was” and my mother thanked us a few more times, and of course my dad interrupted us again because the lighting was still “not quite right.”

“I’m sorry – Emma?” He said. “Can you please adjust the lighting again? Maybe try the lamp on the other side, I’m still having trouble seeing Connie’s face,” or something to that effect. This time, when I got up to turn on the other lamp, my mother turned around and noticed the new lamps. She laughed, squealed, maybe cried a little, and my dad and sister and I all laughed too. We assured my mother that the toilet was not meant for her, and that the cool adjustable gold-and-white lamps were her intended gift. She thanked us again, and this time not for the toilet. Of course, it’s all on videotape.

I believe that, because my father never had any sons, he taught us many things he would have liked to teach boys. He taught me how to throw a baseball – we played catch often in our backyard. He taught me how to cast a fishing line, which we practiced in the campsite parking lot for hours before we were allowed on the lake with it. He taught me how to use tools, and I remember receiving a toolbox from him for a gift once as a teenager. I thought it was the lamest gift, and had probably asked for a CD or cash or a gas card for my car. Really, I use that toolbox almost daily, and it was one of the most useful gifts I have ever received. He taught me how to spackle walls correctly and that it was okay to use toothpaste if you run out of spackle. He taught me how to shoot pool – when I was young we bartered an old washing machine for a pool table, and I went with him to go pick it up. He taught me how to hold a cue stick and chalk it properly, and he built his own triangle out of wood for us to rack the balls. It only had two sides, so he taught me how to keep all the balls in a two-sided triangle, too. He was a master pool player. I remember the only time I beat him at a game of pool, fair and square. I was around 15 years old at the time, at a tavern in northern Wisconsin, and yes, there were witnesses. To this day I continue to win against grown men at billiards, fair and square. I was taught by one of the best.

This year on my 27th birthday, my dad called to wish me a happy birthday.
“Twenty-seven,” he said. “I was your age when I met your mother.”
“You’re right,” I replied. “That was a long time ago.”
“It was the happiest day of my life,” he told me.

My dad never forgot to mention how much he loved my mother, and how he thanked God every day that she was a part of his life. After I left home and the three of them lived together, my dad, having worked from home, would start my mom’s car every morning in the winter to warm it up for her, and brush the snow off. Rose said that he would do the same for her, too.

“Dad really loves mom a lot,” Rose told me once. We have agreed to never settle for any relationship that does not make us as happy as our mother and father made each other.

My dad was very thorough in everything he did, which is a trait I indeed received from him. He taught me to never take on any task unless I was going to do it the right way. No half-done jobs, give everything your all.

My dad taught me a great deal of responsibility, and when I was 15 years old my parents told me I’d need to get a job and buy a car if I wanted to get a driver’s license. My dad went with me to open my first bank account, to which I deposited my paychecks from my part-time job. I bought my first car, a 1991 Chevrolet Cavalier convertible, when I was 17 for $1500. Besides becoming instantly way cooler, I believe this was a major step in my life toward adulthood. I am incredibly grateful for my parents who raised me to appreciate the value of things in life, and always encouraged my individualism.

It was very important to my father to give generously, but to be anonymous when doing so. He taught me that acts of kindness and charity are wonderful, but to partake in them for the purpose of helping others, not to garner praise or boost my reputation. This is a value I have kept with me my entire life.

When Tim was at work, he would give us a little money and help us choose a destination or event for that day. We took out the subway map and figured out our route, packed a lunch, and off we went. As siblings we had to stick together to maneuver through that big city, facing challenges together. Chinatown, Central Park, Riverside Park – just below our apt, Museum of Natural History, Metropolitan Museum, the CLoisters, Rockaway Beach, Coney Island, Times Square, Midtown. Then there was the foreign film house where we saw lots of Japanese and French movies.For apartment adventures, Bob and Pat got a library book on how to make paper airplanes and experimented with flying the airplanes out the 8th floor apartment. Bob of course had to innovate and change the design to give the planes more lift. That kept them out of trouble and having a good time for at least 3 days. I can still hear them laughing.I think I can speak for all of us and say, our visits to NYC were a significant experience that none of us ever forgot and that helped shaped our adult lives.

I loved to visit Bob and Connie in the summertime. The first thing Bob would do is give you a tour of his gardens. He was so proud and excited about all the plantings that he was nurturing along that year and some for many years. His flowers were just gorgeous–a special bed planted for Connie for cutting flowers. Vegetables always healthier, more organized and lush than any others you’d see. His chive plant is amazing–I’ve never seen one that large! What a beautiful yard with the trees and flowers and gardens!

That reminds me of the maple seed Bob planted at our house in Green Bay when he was a youngster. He tended that seed that turned to a seedling and a little tree. Today it still stands as a majestic sugar maple.

A few years ago one June I visited my Mom and John in Milwaukee and shortly after arriving became quickly and severely ill. John took me to the emergency room. While at the emergency room I got steadily worse and they didn’t know what was wrong with me. I had Mom and John call Bob. Bob and Connie came over to the hospital immediately and stayed with me, working with the doctors who eventually gave me a spinal tap. About midnight I was better but limp as a dishrag and out of it. I was released in Bob and Connie’s care. They took me home and put me to bed in such a caring wholehearted way in their own bed. I slept soundly for about 10 hours and felt better in the morning. I will never forget that weekend when I felt my life depended on Bob and Connie and was so well cared for.

Bob always loved hats! When he was 2, he had a red and white stocking cap that he always wanted to wear. That might have been the hat that started his lifelong love affair with hats.

Lately we have seen him wearing:
A miner’s cap with a headlamp for doing his odd jobs and for baking the turkey!
His safari hat with the long neck veil.
An engineer’s hat.

But let’s not forget Bob’s obsession with suspenders! He always had them on and wore them with a big smile!

When Chris and I finally bought our first home, we planned on moving everything ourselves. We closed on the house but had a couple weeks left on our apartment lease so we planned on bringing things over piecemeal. It was a Monday morning, I was at the store and Chris and Bob stopped by. Bob said he had some time between classes and asked if he could borrow my van (full-sized, no-windows-on-the-side type van) to take over a couple of larger items. He also borrowed the store’s two-wheeler. Because he was cutting the time tight he said he’d pick me up at 9 pm when the store closed.

And when he picked me up he drove to the house to show me their progress. As it turned out, Bob skipped classes and he (with help from Chris) moved everything! That was my first night in my own home, all because of Babalouie. Bob had tremendous artistic ability with paints and pencils even as young as five years old. He was either in Kindergarten or First Grade when he brought home a picture he drew of a bridge (and other stuff). It was on medium blue heavy paper and mom was so blown away she attached it to the fridge and it stayed there for at least two years. Thankfully, he continued to draw for many, many years. He also drew a beautiful picture of a tree that was amazing for anyone, much less a youngster.