Robert Patterson

A long, long time ago, Bob and I met at our common work place: Grumman Aerospace. That is how we met. I needed a roommate so I posted on the bulletin board, the potential roommate had one requirement - they had to come up with 50 bucks and Bob did. When he moved in, he immediately cleaned our house. Gus, my other roommate, and I were shocked. I apologized to Gus but he was more laid back about it than I was. But as time went on, I realized that Bob would never clean the house again. We were safe. Bob and I became best friends. We would have long, late night conversations about politics, philosophy, work and women. I was going thru my social period and we would have standing only parties and somehow Bob and I would emerge from the wreckage the next morning to laugh together and reminisce about the night before. And every once in a while we would celebrate the arbitrary happy moment with late night pig outs with gallons of ice cream. Bob was an early escape for me into rational conversation, an escape from a crazy world; an island of calm rational thought and shared joyful laughing. Bob had all these ‘Missouri’ sayings like, “It’s raining like a cow pissing on a flat rock.” I never knew if these were Missouri-isms or Bob-isms. I suspect some of them were pure Bob-isms. Bob was best man at my wedding in 1985. It seems like ancient history now. Waves of time separating us. We drifted on those waves, Bob going his way and I going mine. We did keep in touch over the span of increasingly distant time. But our friendship, our very close friendship that meant so much to my life, is preserved forever in the past that we shared. I can see it, as though it is happening right now; because it is, and always will be. I miss you my old friend. May you forever rest in piece.