He Was One of the Good Guys
It’s funny how one phone call can alter a day...or more. Late yesterday afternoon I was finishing up a typical work day and thinking about what I might write for this little hobby of mine. Unbeknownst to me, a voicemail had been left on my cell phone by someone I had not talked to in years. It was an urgent message asking me to call back as soon as possible. The kind of urgency one associates with bad news. As it turned out, it was bad news. I was informed of the death of Richard Robbins. To some who read this that may not mean a whole lot, and that’s fine. People we are unfamiliar with die every day. And while these deaths (even those who are friends of friends), in a vacuum are sad or even tragic, we cannot be expected to mourn for each of them equally, if at all.
That said, a life well-led deserves recognition. In this age of incivility, Rich was the poster child for civility. As the wise Charles Magee said when informed of Rich’s passing, “He was one of the good guys.” I can’t prove this but I’m pretty sure you could count on one hand the times that Rich became flat-out, beside-himself angry. I actually saw this rare occurrence twice. Of course, I was the cause of these two outbursts as I can be opinionated and on rare occasions mildly obnoxious about those opinions! Fortunately for me, Rich and I knew each other for decades. He was, in the purest sense of the phrase, one of my best friends. And because of this friendship he probably put up with more of my crap than he should have. But then, he was one of my best friends.
Rich was a quiet, unassuming sort – the type of person that blended into a scene without overpowering it, yet enhancing it with his timely, sharp wit and the insightful comment that comes from a talent for listening. His curiosity/knowledge about all kinds of subjects ranging from sports to politics to Monty Python was a joy to behold. He loved the give and take of our conversations over the years, as did I. He was never out of his depth.
A quadruple heart bypass scare put a little fear of god into him some years back, as it would for most of us. His friends got a sense of renewed passion for life during and after his immediate rehabilitation. His hobbies increased as did his golf trips! Never a bad thing, and he knew it. As he made his way towards a semi-retirement he made a point of cramming as many things as he could into each day. The phone calls became more abundant and the conversations became even longer and more detailed. Also, never a bad thing!
Looking back on these brief paragraphs I realize I’m coming close to writing one of those New York Times obituaries, and that’s the last thing I wanted to do. Like I said earlier, if you have no idea who Rich Robbins is, I want you to know that he mattered, and that he made a difference. If you were lucky enough to know Rich, and I’ve talked to lots of people these last two days as we shared memories, laughs, and even a little anger that he’s gone, you don’t need to read this to know he mattered. You were a witness. And it’s our duty to carry on that sense of kindness and civility that was as natural for Rich as breathing.
Here’s the thing…Rich loved life. Whether it was family, friends, golf, ballroom dancing, or just enjoying a good book. Rich was the living embodiment of the blessing as I interpret it; “More life, into a time without boundaries.” He was a good son, a good brother, a respected colleague, and a better friend than I deserved. He carried the fire, and I will miss him, dearly.
Rest in peace, my friend.
That said, a life well-led deserves recognition. In this age of incivility, Rich was the poster child for civility. As the wise Charles Magee said when informed of Rich’s passing, “He was one of the good guys.” I can’t prove this but I’m pretty sure you could count on one hand the times that Rich became flat-out, beside-himself angry. I actually saw this rare occurrence twice. Of course, I was the cause of these two outbursts as I can be opinionated and on rare occasions mildly obnoxious about those opinions! Fortunately for me, Rich and I knew each other for decades. He was, in the purest sense of the phrase, one of my best friends. And because of this friendship he probably put up with more of my crap than he should have. But then, he was one of my best friends.
Rich was a quiet, unassuming sort – the type of person that blended into a scene without overpowering it, yet enhancing it with his timely, sharp wit and the insightful comment that comes from a talent for listening. His curiosity/knowledge about all kinds of subjects ranging from sports to politics to Monty Python was a joy to behold. He loved the give and take of our conversations over the years, as did I. He was never out of his depth.
A quadruple heart bypass scare put a little fear of god into him some years back, as it would for most of us. His friends got a sense of renewed passion for life during and after his immediate rehabilitation. His hobbies increased as did his golf trips! Never a bad thing, and he knew it. As he made his way towards a semi-retirement he made a point of cramming as many things as he could into each day. The phone calls became more abundant and the conversations became even longer and more detailed. Also, never a bad thing!
Looking back on these brief paragraphs I realize I’m coming close to writing one of those New York Times obituaries, and that’s the last thing I wanted to do. Like I said earlier, if you have no idea who Rich Robbins is, I want you to know that he mattered, and that he made a difference. If you were lucky enough to know Rich, and I’ve talked to lots of people these last two days as we shared memories, laughs, and even a little anger that he’s gone, you don’t need to read this to know he mattered. You were a witness. And it’s our duty to carry on that sense of kindness and civility that was as natural for Rich as breathing.
Here’s the thing…Rich loved life. Whether it was family, friends, golf, ballroom dancing, or just enjoying a good book. Rich was the living embodiment of the blessing as I interpret it; “More life, into a time without boundaries.” He was a good son, a good brother, a respected colleague, and a better friend than I deserved. He carried the fire, and I will miss him, dearly.
Rest in peace, my friend.
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