If you wanted to win a game of Trivial Pursuit you would want both my Dad, my Cousin Bob and me on your team. Dad had sports and sit-coms down pat. I had politics, history and a hodge podge of useless factoids across the spectrum. Cousin Bob was a librarian with a Master’s Degree and had everything else. Cousin Bob and I had one thing in common, which was our uncanny ability to remember tons and tons of stuff. Eventually the family decided the three of us had to be split up to keep the game competitive. I still have that memory. My Dad has been gone for over 30 years. We lost Cousin Bob yesterday.
Cousin Bob was 16 years old when I was born. My oldest sister was 14 and my older brother was 10, my other sister was 5 and my younger brother wouldn’t make the scene until 5 years later. My older sisters and brother knew him when he was a kid. I always saw him as an adult. He was a Senior in college getting his degree in history and library science the same year I entered Kindergarten at 5 years old. He had started school at 4. He was always nice and kind to me, always. Our Grandmothers’ were sisters. His mother and my Dad were 1st cousins, which makes Cousin Bob my first cousin, once removed. His Aunt Betty and Mom were my cousins Betty and Margurite. I can thank Grandma for making sure I understood our familial relationship. The thing is, though is that as far as my Dad/Mom and Aunt/Dad were concerned the six of us were defacto siblings, because Cousin Bob was an only child and they thought he needed a couple of brothers and sisters. My Cousin’s Mom was my favorite baby sitter, Cousin Bob often came over for dinner and game night. He stayed with us at our place on Seneca lake. We would swim ski, sail, hike during the day and play games in the evening. We played Hearts, Spades, Crazy Eights, Canasta, Monoploy, Pinochle and Bridge. As time went on Euchre, Uno and Trivial Pursuit.
In our family the young ones when playing games like hearts or spades end up paired with an older player. We’d sit on their lap. The teen or adult would hold the cards and I’d learn how to win the tricks with their help. My Mom and Grand mother would give away our hand as they whispered to me, “No, we can’t pick that one, because that suit hasn’t been broken”. “Yes, that’s the right suit, but to win over all this one is better because their are three players than can throw over us if we use that one.” Whoever had the kid sitting on their knee, had a handicap as they had to be the tutor. My Dad liked to win, so when he tutored me it was simplistic, Yes, No without explanation. Cousin Bob and I developed my favorite code. He gave me multiple choice, he would take three cards, put them on one side of the hand and ask me to point to the one that I would think is best. “Perhaps” or “We can do that” usually meant a good choice, but there was a better one of the three. Ok, or yes, meant I could pull it out and play it. I learned how to pick the Yes card quickly with him.
After the hand was played everyone would discuss the skill of how we played that round of tricks. It didn’t take long before I could see the patterns and I increasingly heard yes with more enthusiasm as I learned the strategy for the game. Teaching strategy to a 4, 5 or a 6 year old is not easy, but my family managed it. By the time we were 6 or 7 we could have our own hands, no tutor and a decent chance of winning. [Bridge we needed to be a bit older as that game is much more difficult strategy wise.] Cousin Bob made family game nights special.
It took a while to catch on to Cousin Bob’s humor which was droll. He was a pleasant pipe smoking head librarian and history teacher for a high school on Long Island. He got his master’s Degree, which ensured his spot at his school. He also tutored many, many of his students as they went on to college, graduate school pursuing master’s and doctorates of their own. He helped them figure out how to do graduate school research with a paper system without losing your mind. By the time I was doing my master’s Degree the index card file was long gone, but I was still having trouble organizing my sources. Still unsure what my master’s Project needed to be. Cousin Bob helped me get it together with the help of Excel, Access and some learning activities that helped me hone my focus. Once I had that, the project was done in less than 6 months. Compared to how he had to do his multiple Master’s Degrees, I had it easy.
Cousin Bob’s parents were special to me, too. Unfortunately, since they were born during WWI they weren’t long in my life, with both passing early in my life. Bob’s Mom would let me play with her costume jewelry for hours and hours when she baby sat me. She died first and Bob Sr. and Cousin Bob [Jr] gave me a English cookie tin filled with her costume jewelry. I treasured that for years. I still love beads. Cousin Bob had lost both of his parents and his grandmother by the 1984. I was a young adult living in Miami, Florida. My siblings were all across the East. Cousin Bob had moved to Long Island. Bob’s Aunt, my Grandma’s niece, kept his grandmother’s house and by then we were only visiting each other at Christmas. Phone calls were still expensive, but we called each other and sent notes every few months to keep in touch. Occasionally we’d plan a family vacation where we’d have to take 3-4 rooms to fit us all.
Cousin Bob never married. He lived as a bachelor with many, many friends in New York. We all knew why, but I learned before I was 12, to not ask why; because I was told, “You know why!”. That was puzzling until my middle sister said in a side moment, “Cousin Bob is gay, stupid.”“Oh, ok, so what’s the big deal?” I was told what the big deal was. I didn’t buy it then and I don’t buy it today. I mean Cousin Bob was family. When my Cousin Betty, his Aunt died he quietly with my parents closed the house decided what to keep and what to sell and he went back to long Island my folks were getting ready to move to Florida.
We continued to see Cousin Bob for Christmas until my parents died. By then cell phones made long distance phone calls cheap. We would talk for hours. We would talk about our grandmothers. Trips together, places we went together. History, our family histories, all sorts of subjects. He was fun to talk to until his disease made talking nearly impossible for him.
Cousin Bob and I developed our own relationship. I kept to the family code of saying things without saying things. He knew I knew he was gay and didn’t care, I just wanted him to be happy. He would tell me about his friends and his adventures with them. About 30 years ago he told me about 2 Vietnamese men and I knew they were special to him. I didn’t pry and he didn’t dish, but I knew their was deep regard in both directions and I was happy for them.
Cousin Bob helped my other sister with her sons and did so much for them both financially and in mentoring. He was far more peer to peer with my older sister and brother who are closer to him in age. They share many more memories of our parents and grandparents as i was not on the scenes for a few more years to come. My younger brother never developed much of a relationship. my younger brother loves sailing and is a conservative along the lines of Neil Gorsuch. Cousin Bob could talk about any subject and he knew a lot about sailing, but my brother knew Cousin Bob was no sailor, but he sure did understand the lingo. Cousin Bob was a foodie all of his life and trading recipes was a thing with us.
A few years ago, Cousin Bob developed a chronic condition that would eventually kill him. His long term friend moved in with him and helped in the evenings and weekends for years. Dear friend was code for what was not to be spoken. You can’t make a man in his late 70’s to change his ways. About 18 months ago he went into the final stages of his disease. I had spoken with him a little before hand and I knew what was to happen with his passing. His dear friend had to quit his job about 4 months ago to become Cousin Bob’s full time care giver. He didn’t want us to see him as he became. He wanted us to remember him with his pipe and cardigan sweater. His dear friend would take our calls and pass on messages and messages back to us. Talking was impossible. I got the last call yesterday.
For me, it’s a era that’s passed.
I have to fill out some 30 minutes of paperwork allowing his dear friend to make the funeral arrangements that Cousin Bob wanted done. Of course, we are giving his dear friend that we were never allowed to meet the authority to do what Cousin Bob wanted. I only wish Cousin Bob trusted us with more.
Thank you for listening/reading.