Bob
Stories
Those of us who knew Bob remember how he filled our lives with laughter. And so when his friends and colleagues were asked to relate their "Bob Stories," some of them laughed again and asked, "Even the ones that we shouldn't tell?"
Take a moment and share some of our laughs and some of our heartfelt moments for the man we knew and loved as Bob.
- "Bob Routes", remote controlled "fart machines", and marriage advice from a man named Bob
- Resume Mistakes
- The "Bob Pit"
- More pranks and fun
- Tuckerman's Ravine
- The Snow Blower
- Beef Jerky
- Testing the Invisible Fence
- Punctuality
- Fun with Fireworks
Fun and Serious
Yes - he had a remote controlled "fart machine". Sorry; but, it is true. In fact, we have now found more than one.
A friend and coworker, Sherry related this story within the week after he died:
I often think about how well (or not) people’s names fit them. I wonder if my oldest daughter would be milder and meeker if we had not named her Alexandra, why all “Sallys” seem to be perky and cheerful and the difference in personality that comes to mind when thinking of the not-so-subtle difference between a man named John and one called Johnny. There is no doubt, whatsoever, that no other name was more suited for our “Nebraska Farm Boy” co-worker than “Bob”. Bob’s father should be saluted for so aptly naming his son, or maybe, for predestining his character by naming Bob…Bob.
I notice that whenever I or anyone else speaks to Bob, we almost always use his name in every sentence, sometimes more than once. “Hi, Bob.” How are you, Bob?” “Bob?” “Bob!” “Bob? What are you doing now, Bob?” and so on. The name, and its association to the man became noun, adjective, proper name and verb all rolled into one. Any means of travel that took the least straight path to any destination became a “Bob route”. Taking a Bob route usually meant an extra half hour and a lot of back roads from any nearby eating establishment (likely within a sightline to the college) back to Fitchburg State. Bob even complained, the day after his ambulance ride that the driver didn’t go the way HE would have gone, prompting us to comment that perhaps the paramedics didn’t have time to travel though four extra states. The word Bob could also be used as a command. A simple “Bob….!!” could stop him from proceeding with a variety of predictable antics, although not for long. “Bobbing”, sometimes synonymous with “concatenating”, meant the extraordinary way that Bob would strive to push the limits of the uses of Microsoft Excel and was the catalyst of many tech support visits to the OneCard office.
There are so many interwoven episodes where Bob was both hero and villain, perpetrator and victim. No stunt was too complex, no joke left unanswered, no prank that could not be escalated to the nth degree. When the Service Center moved over to the Conlon Building, I moved into the office next to Bob’s. I’m sure it was neighborly hospitality that propelled him to almost immediately begin a war of "hijinx" that was always escalating. It began innocently enough, with small office redecorations, computer sabotage and harmless mischief involving an assortment of accessories like a twelve gauge rubber band shooter.
The ultimate escalation began with the strategic placement of his remote control fart machine in my office. He placed it so well that neither I nor my student employees or coworkers could exactly locate it. He’d lay in wait, far enough out of sight that I couldn’t see that he was nearby and waiting patiently for some important guest to enter my office, preferably one who needed to close the door for a confidential meeting. Once he knew I was engrossed in a conversation, he would set it off , delighting in the shocked reaction of the unsuspecting visitor, or my immediate storming out of the office to yell, “BOB!!!” Of course, the reaction he loved best was the uproar, the uproarious laughter. Muttering something like, “I’m just a simple country farm boy from Nebraska.”, he’d saunter away, trying to look like an innocent bystander, waiting just long enough for me to forget so he could strike again.
I scoured my office for the darn thing and could never quite locate it. He never set it off for a long enough stint so I could ferret it out, and just to be safe, he moved it around occasionally so I would be kept off guard. He triggered it off once when I had the CIO and Network manager from Westfield State in for a demonstration of some student network management software. He blasted it off when the software engineer from McAfee, who was sick with a cold and commented that he was glad he couldn’t smell anything, came in for a training and software update session. It went off when I was on the phone for my first conversation with our new CIO. He was incorrigible. To get back at him, we procured a second one, which, before we could actually get the desired result, ran out of battery life.
Ultimately, he did slip up and put it in my file cabinet where it rattled and alerted me to its location. I kept it…and waited. Poking around one day, I found the remote and pilfered it, hiding the fart machine in HIS office, which was supremely easy to do, since his office was so full of stuff, including a pile of spider webbing I had used to decorate his office for Halloween. Then I waited.
I waited for what looked like the perfect moment. Bob invited a group of men from our Cable TV provider to meet in his office. He brought them all in and introduced everyone, gathered up some chairs and sat everyone down for a meeting. I sat in my office, poised with the remote for the first conversational lull. With a smug smile, a knowing wink at my other coworkers and a flourish of the stolen remote, I pounced on the perfect quiet interlude and set it off.
As with all good practical jokes, there was one small hitch. Bob had long before found the machine and replanted it back in my office, and so, inevitably, I set it off on myself - which delighted Bob and all interested onlookers and the joke was once again on me. A pathetic “Bob!! I WILL get you for this!” was my only recourse.
I realize that over the course of this week (September 30, 2005), Tina, that Bob accomplished something that I didn’t expect. Close to 20 people voluntarily sat in a room together today and did some talking but mostly listened to a few of us tearfully describe what kind of man he was and why he meant so much. Although the stories and “BobTales” started out with all the crazy antics he loved to plot and carry out, eventually the words that overtook the theme of the conversation were “generous”, “caring”, “loveable”, “kindhearted”, “devoted”, “honest”. And with that the stories turned to ones about his good deeds and his love for Tina and his family. After we all got up to leave the meeting and all throughout these past few days, you can’t pass by someone from within the department or a caring coworker or student from the rest of campus without them stopping to hug you or you pausing to embrace them. We all stop by to see how Ted is doing or to check in on Jamie. Jamie calls to read a letter he wants to send, and we cry and congratulate him on how wonderfully written it is. No one is being critical of another coworker. No one is too busy to chat about how they feel or too involved to take a moment out of their day to listen to another memory or story. People are actually going out of their way to write to a person they may not be all that fond of talking to and offering condolences that seem heartfelt. Bob. He managed to bring us all together.
So, I’m leaving you with one last story. It’s the one you most need to remember.
My work-study student, Stefan was getting married in August. When I first met Stefan, in a rare misjudged first impression, I referred to him as “Tude Boy” because he had that look about him. It became a joke and he always told me that his mother called him the same thing. He is actually a wonderful young man, and became Denise’s and my favorite of all the Help Desk students….but the name stuck. When he came back to FSC as a consultant for Best (OneCard vendor) he came to work with Bob for the most part. Bob picked up where Denise and I left off with Stefan Harassment and could always be found bantering with him. Stefan gave back as good as he got.
In early August, Denise and Clair and I were invited to a bridal shower where we all had to write down marital advice on a slip of paper and put it in a basket. A lot of wisecracking went on in that exercise, so the next time Stefan came to Fitchburg State I stopped by the OneCard Office and recounted all the good advice cracks that were flying around the table. I said, “So Bob, do YOU have any good advice for Stefan?”
Stefan said, “He already gave me some.” And, expecting some witty "Bobism", I asked Stefan what it was. He said, “He told me to tell my wife every day that I love her.” Still expecting a punch line, I did have to ask, “Do YOU do that every day, Bob?”.
“I do.”
THAT’s the best Bob story ever.
Resume Mistakes
Another coworker wrote the following stories:
I’ve known Bob for over 18 years. As a matter of fact, Bob was my first boss at Fitchburg State College. Bob liked to remind me on occasion that when I first applied to work at the college, he was impressed enough with my resume that he wanted to call me in for an interview. However, I had neglected to include a few minor details on my resume, namely my address and my phone number. Despite this complication, he took the time to track me down and gave me the chance to interview, and eventually hired me.
It seemed to bring him plenty of joy to remind me how I had overlooked such important details and that, if not for his persistence, I would not have had a career at Fitchburg State College.
The "Bob Pit"
Bob loved to ski. Every winter, a group of us from the college would take a day and head north to ski. On one occasion, while skiing at Bretton Woods, we were trying to get to another trail and the only way to do that was to cut through the woods.
The conditions were exceptional with six inches of powder snow on top of a two inch crust of hard snow. As we skied through the woods, Bob took a tumble and broke through that crust under which was another four feet of powder. As he struggled to get up, he kept making a bigger hole. He then took off his skis and tried to walk out to the trail. However he was stuck up to his waist and not making much headway. Bob was getting exhausted trying to fight his way out of the pit so we helped drag him out and got him back on his skis.
As we skied out of the woods, we wondered whether or not some poor skier following the trail we had cut would fall victim to the “Bob Pit” we had left behind.
Incoming!
We were setting up a sound system in the college's M&M lounge one morning using two gigantic speakers and a 300 watt amplifier. After we had rigged everything together, Bob decided that we needed to test the system. So he proceeded to take a sound effects CD and play it. His choice was that of a 747 jet taking off. Of course he had the volume cranked up. The jet engines sounded so realistic that there were worried looks on peoples faces as they scanned the area to see how close the jet was. One poor woman dove under her desk thinking that a plane was crashing into the building. Bob’s amusement changed as he realized that maybe this joke had gone a little too far and like little kids about to get caught, we shut down the system and made ourselves scarce until things returned to normal.
Tuckerman's Ravine
Related by a friend and coworker, Mike:
Last spring, Bob, Tina, Tim and I took a trip up to Tuckerman’s Ravine in New Hampshire. It is a snow bowl located on the East side of Mount Washington, with slopes that drop off to pitches of over 50 degrees. To ski Tuckerman’s is one of those goals that any real skier has to do at least once. Tina and I were planning to ski while Bob and Tim hiked in with us.
We made it to the huts by 2:00 p.m., which was pretty late to start skiing. I was pretty apprehensive about skiing this renowned place; but, the conditions could not have been better. Tina and I climbed up to the headwall and made two runs that afternoon. I was most impressed with Tina tackling this legendary terrain. Tina and I climbed back down to the huts where Bob and Tim were waiting and we proceeded down the mountain thinking that the hard part was over.
While navigating through some large rocks, Tina took a fall and (as we later found out) broke her elbow. We worked as a team to get her down safely. What would normally have been a 2 hour hike out ended up taking over 4 ½ hours well into the night. During that time and the days that followed, Bob did not leave Tina’s side. What struck me most was how caring and concerned Bob was for Tina’s well being. She was his focus, and this experience showed me just how much Tina meant to him.
The Snow Blower
Related by Bob's wife, Tina:
Bob was looking at this old Simplicity (in a garage like tent). The owner started it up and so much blue smoke came out of it that I couldn't even see Bob and the seller anymore (I was still in the car parked directly in front of this tent). Really - THAT much smoke...so now, I'm thinking Bob must be - you know - just being a nice guy. He obviously isn't interested in this thing right? Then he walked back and got in the car - looked at me and said...
"BABY - we got ourselves a SNOW BLOWER!"
I was stunned.
And then for the rest of his winter days - he carried on some kind of strange love - hate relationship with the thing.
Now, I try not to kick it.
Beef Jerky
Related by Tina:
It was about two days before my brother Jim's wedding. I had just had my gown cleaned and pressed. With the dress hanging in our home office door way, I was thrilled to be gaining a sister-in-law; thrilled to see my brother so happy; and thinking - "WHAT is THAT smell?"
It was Bob's new beef jerky maker!
He explained that it should take about two days and by the way wasn't it just great. "NO", I explained. "TWO DAYS?!? I'm going to be the only one in the church smelling like beef jerky! Take that THING out to your shed or something."
"The shed? I can't take the jerky to the shed", he explained. And then he tried to say that smelling like beef jerky would be a good thing. Eventually he suggested that I take my dress out to the shed.
"Right. Lawn mower fumes...much better."
"Also good", he said.
My only response - "ugh" and I brought my dress to the deck. The jerky machine won. And the jerky was enjoyed by many for a long time to come.
Testing
Told by Jim's wife, Sheila (Tina and Bob's sister-in-law):
I won't forget the story that Jim told me about the dog's electric/invisible fence and collar. Jim and Bob wanted to know how the shock collar worked. Well, the short story is they (Jim and Bob) kept upping the collar's shock level to see if the other could hold on to it.
He will be missed.
Punctuality
Told by Adam Everett:
Gunther Hoos as a professor didn't want us students to feel any restrictions, and hated rigid structures and rules. However, he had days when he felt people were taking advantage of his kindness.
On one day in Film 3 class, more than half of the class arrived 15 minutes late. One of the last students to arrive tried to explain he rushed over here from work and there was a horrible traffic jam.
Gunther had a venting session and said, "Look. I understand that most of you have to work while going to school. I had to do it, too. But I also took my major seriously and always showed up to those classes on time. This is Film class. This is your concentration. I hope you're all aware of that. I also hope you know that when you work in the field of film, people are going to expect you to show up on time or you'll be labeled as unreliable. Now I don't like to take attendance, and I don't want to start today. However, I have to insist that you all put in the effort to show up to class on time. I don't want to hear any more excuses on where you've been that would cause you to show up late."
Within the second of completing that sentence, Chris Champigny walked through the door to take his seat for Gunther's class. Bob Wilson was right behind him praising his efforts saying, "Thank you Mr. Champigny for helping us fix all of the school's AVID systems. You're an asset to the college, and the Communication department appreciates your services."
When Bob finished talking, he closed the door behind him leaving Chris to walk alone. Everyone silently stared making him uncomfortable.
Gunther annoyed and chagrined just looked at Chris and said, "Nice. Thank you."
And thanks Bob – for walking in with us when we needed you.
Fun with Fireworks
One 4th of July when I was 6 or 7, Uncle Bob came over to our house to do fireworks with my dad. That year there was a tornado warning for the whole evening, and the sky was green and mean. While the family huddled under the staircase and the sirens were blaring, Bob and my dad shot bottle rockets from a aluminum fence posts in the front yard. They were laughing and having a great time despite a biblical storm in the making. He also had this cool MG car that he had at that time. I remember his funny laugh, his clever and cool Christmas gifts that usually took the form of mind puzzles, hand-crafted brain teasers, or other unique gifts. I always enjoyed having interesting and thoughtful conversations with him after I had grown up. Those are the fond memories and things that come to mind when I think of Uncle Bob.
He would also get us nephews to spell out swear words with our firework sparklers and he would hold the aperture on the camera open and the naughty word would be printed on the film when it was developed. When I was a kid, I thought that was awesome. In fact, I still do. I found those pictures not long ago and I laughed out loud. :-)
Anyone interested in sharing a "Bob Story", please feel free to email Tina at t_wilson@verizon.net. Thank you.