Bob's grave

Today's post, is not about marketing or advertising or interactive anything. It is about remembrance.
I went to my step fathers grave at Riverdale cemetary last night, to change the water in the vase of flowers my mother places there once a week.
It is truly a remarkable place, hidden in the heart of Cabbagetown (One of Toronto's oldest neighbourhoods). It's a quiet, calm and beautifull environment. Situated next to Bob's tombstone is a circular white bench, under an old oak tree.
It is one of the most serene and calming places I can think of, but what makes this interesting or different is the purpose of the environment.
It is truly about rememberance, not self introspection or analysis, but rather a place where I can reflect on what and who somebody was. What they did, how they made you laugh, what they taught you and ultimately how much you miss them.
Bob was so unique and I am eternally gratefull for knowing him.
He grew up dirt poor in North Toronto, His family was poor, 1930's poor. He used to make his shoes out of cardboard boxes, he got thrown out of every school he went to and at the age of fifteen lied about his age and signed up for WW2.
Bob wasn't that tall, at about 5 feet 7 or 8, but he was built like a shit brick house, probably the strongest person I knew. Because he was small and agile, his job as a member of the Royal Canadian Engineers, was to crawl through bombed out houses in France and find undetonated explosives and then I assume, take them out and detonate them in a field somewhere. He always use to say he had a blast in the War!.
He was once captured by the Germans and was on his way to a POW camp when the house they were being held came under mortar fire. The Germans all ran like hell, leaving Bob and the other POW's handcuffed to a bench, apparently the three of them stood up, with the bench still attached and ran like hell, in the opposite direction. It seems almost slapstick thinking about it now, but it was pure Bob.

After the War, he went into the restaurant and fitness business, working in and then ultimately running his own fitness clubs.
The first time I met Bob, he had just started dating my Mom, was probably 1978 or 79. I don't think I was much more than 15 or 16, but within minutes I knew, he was here to stay. He adored my Mom and my Mom adored him, it was something that never changed untill his death in 2002.
The Health club, known simply as "The Club" was situated in the heart of what is the Gay Village, right next to the old Headquarters of the CBC. It made for an incredible variety of people. Actors, actresses, bookies, cops, filmmakers and politicians all hung around the club, smoking, eating, drinking and carousing. I never saw anyone actually "work out" but this was the seventies. Jerry Orbach used to drink Scotch there, Oliver Reed once got so drunk he left in his underwear, carrying a bottle of wine, walking up the middle of Church street, howling at the proverbial moon.
There were probably three women to every male at the club, Bob used to say it made the long hours more bearable, but he just loved women, plain and simple and they loved him back.

Bob was ardently left wing and couldn't tolerate right wing zealots of any make up, as long as you didn't fit into the aforementioned category, he was accepting, tolerant and compassionate to a fault. He loved animals and gave to the Humane Society, probably more than any other charity.
The one thing that I still find truly remarkable about the man, was he was universally loved, and not just in a passive, "he was a great guy" context, but deeply loved and respected by everybody.
More than anything, Bob taught me how to be a survivor, and do it with my integrity and humour intact and for that, I am eternally thankfull.
I miss him