Bob Robertson, 1928-1995. Son of Homer and Ethel. Marine Corps, BA, MFA, MA, writer, teacher, newspaperman, Peace Corps. Dad. Husband of Pat. Here in Mexico, where he always seemed happiest.
Bob Robertson, 1928-1995. Son of Homer and Ethel. Marine Corps, BA, MFA, MA, writer, teacher, newspaperman, Peace Corps. Dad. Husband of Pat. Here in Mexico, where he always seemed happiest.
My father, Bob Robertson, 12/18/28 — 11/12/95. Canyon Road and Hamilton Mesa, Santa Fe and Pecos Wilderness, 1970s. Dad, stepmother Pat and Mus heading down the Rito Valdez to Mora Flats. He got to relax a little after newspapering and the Peace Corps, before family care reeled him back again.
We’re not all still around but I like to think of us as still together. This was a good day, reunited after chaotic separations, rough seas, relocated suddenly to Sausalito from Santa Fe. I like these guys despite all the strains, each of us needful in big ways, father included. In my mid-70s, Dad and …
Dear Dad, I’m sure it’s raining on the east side of the Pecos today. That’s good because I’m afraid the Calf Canyon/Hermit’s Peak fire has burned all the way west to Hamilton Mesa or at least to Iron Gate. I guess it’s also burned over where we left your ashes with Pat’s near the Mora …
We were celebrating your 60th birthday with this 1989 hike in Colorado, but the photos will do for Father’s Day. My late father, Bob Robertson, 1929-1995.
I’m getting a head start on Father’s Day, already picking out pictures to celebrate my late, one-of-a-kind, Marine Corps-to-Peace Corps, writer, teacher, newspaperman, linguist father. Here mocking risk as always on a beach near Yelapa on the Pacific coast of Mexico in 1975. I could live without the snakes but otherwise thanks, Dad.
“I am ashamed — ashamed for myself and for the church — that we have not been here sooner.” That was Monsignor David Cantwell of the Catholic Interracial Council of Chicago speaking to my father at the end of the five-day civil rights march from Selma to Montgomery in March 1965, led by the Rev. …
I have been thinking about this photo, too, on this Father’s Day, a family photo from the 1930s. It’s my father, Bob Robertson, and his father, Homer W. Robertson, helping my father’s older sister, Marcella Jean, who suffered from cerebral palsy. Marcella couldn’t walk on her own and had trouble speaking, but her mind and …
Along with Martin Luther King Jr. and many others, I always think of my father on this day. More of these stories here: https://dreamranch.wordpress.com/2015/03/07/a-singing-heard-in-selmas-mud/
Dad used to joke about what he was reading in the waiting room when we were born. Titles I remember are Nausea and As I Lay Dying. This did no justice to his first wife and mother of his three sons, but it is a funny reflection on an earnest, hard-working Depression-era guy who came […]
dream ranch 