Bob died on the morning of June 18, 2024, at the Rockyview General Hospital. He was 87. His heart stopped, but that came as a blessing, as dementia had robbed him of much that he knew and loved. He remained his kind, gentle self, but for someone with an active mind and deep creativity, life was becoming unbearable. He recognized that his memory was failing, and he longed to be useful and do what he loved.
Thankfully, he remembered people and enjoyed interacting with them. He could also still do a few of the things he enjoyed, including puzzle games, playing his piano, and colouring.
As a young man, Bob trained as a photographer at the Brooks Institute of Photography in Santa Barbara, California. While he was a good photographer, he wasn’t a great photographer. Instead, he was a great teacher, and his students at the Northern Alberta School of Technology and The Banff Centre, where he developed the full-time Visual Communication program in 1971, benefited from his compassion, insights, kindness, and warmth.
Pat Morrow, one of his students, a friend, and former neighbour, described Bob as “the most articulate teacher I’ve ever had, particularly when it came to critiquing a photograph. His ability to communicate the artistic gestalt of photos was, at times, more profound than the images themselves. His legacy lives on in every photo we take and every critique we give.”
Bob left The Banff Centre in 1980, then the manager of Visual Arts, and began working in Canmore as a realtor, where he became well regarded. Bob retired from real estate in the early ’90s and with his wife, Joan (they celebrated their 61st anniversary in January), spent their time traipsing about the American Southwest with their tent trailer and their friends and family.
Of all Bob’s roles, he loved being a grandfather most of all. He delighted having his granddaughter, Alaina, around as it gave him the freedom to be silly and creative. And he excelled in both.
He enjoyed making people laugh with his antics and misadventures, and he had a deep creative well, making and painting snakes, lizards, dioramas, puzzles, and decorations. Despite his ability with the paintbrush and model knife, he could never master the hammer and saw. His approach to construction followed the idea that if one nail worked, four or five worked better (He followed that same logic with chocolate).
Along with chocolate, Bob loved music, and he spent hours poring over his extensive collection of albums, CDs, and cassettes trying to decide what to listen to next. His love of music came at an early age, and it led him to learn how to play the piano and the marimba. He paid his college tuition by performing in Calgary at variety shows as “Bob and his Marimba”.
Bob had a straightforward approach to life. He didn’t need or expect a lot, and he found the lives of others more interesting than his own. He was generous with gifts, his time, and his thoughtful advice that always seemed to be the right words at the right time.
Despite his many talents, Bob was a modest, shy person who preferred to be off to the side. Given that he found public appreciation difficult in life, it comes as no surprise that he didn’t want that in death, either. As a result, he did not want a funeral service, but if you feel moved, remember Bob in your own way. And if you do, find something creative, gentle, kind, and, most importantly, silly. Please, whatever you do, don’t forget the chocolate.
