June 2010
Whatever happened to Bob?

Let’s just call him Bob.

His first name was common and so was his last. He was the quiet one in our high school class. He usually sat by himself at the back of the room and rarely had anything to say. He wore thick glasses, was a bit overweight and had that forlorn look in his eyes. It seemed that he was always looking down, as if he were afraid to look anyone in the eye.

I don’t remember him having any friends, really. Bob was just different from the other kids in class, and we just accepted that and went on about our business.

Some of us from that high school class recently planned our 50th reunion. It involved an exhaustive search to locate our classmates who were scattered all over the country. No one could seem to locate Bob.

And then, just days before the reunion, one of our former classmates happened to spot an obituary in a metropolitan newspaper. Same first name. Same last name. Could it possibly be our missing Bob? A short read into the item confirmed that, indeed, this was our Bob. Where had he been all these years? How could anyone so shy, so different, have been successful?

In reading his obituary, we began to see a very different picture of this one who was often ridiculed for not looking nor acting like the rest of us. He had married and he had a son. In fact, he had been married for 38 years. His profession: photographer. The obituary stated that he had built his own studio and created photographs that were “honest and natural.”

We learned that he had studied under a famous psychotherapist, and that later he had helped lead men’s support groups for individuals recovering from early emotional injuries. Those skills later led him to work with troubled youth, especially homeless youth. With his camera, he photographed and archived photos of homeless teenagers. His images did much to alert the public to the epidemic of young adults and teenagers living on the streets.

Bob was later a court-appointed special advocate for abused children. He was a 15-year volunteer for Parents Anonymous, and he also volunteered on a regular basis in a children’s hospital. In 2007, he was named Youth Care Worker of the Year by his state’s network of youth services.

After a little research, I located another obituary online about Bob, and I read the comments left by those who knew him best. One wrote that words were inadequate to express “the tremendous impact you have had and will continue to have on my life.” Another stated that he had never known anyone like Bob, as he “just seemed to know innately what people needed” and then was “willing to meet that need.”

On and on the endearing comments continued. And finally, near the end of the comments was one from a former homeless man who once had lived in what he called a “cave.” Bob had found him, showed him that he cared and — from what I gather — must have made an incredible difference in his life.

This young man wrote that Bob would always be his hero, and the one regret he had was that he had not gotten the chance to tell him that “I did something with my life.” He was no longer on the streets and he had purchased a house.

He wrote: “Thank you for … caring about some dirty, little street kid and helping him to understand that he could still do stuff with his life.”

We never know the impact that a few encouraging words might have on an individual, do we? Bob knew. I’m sure he had felt the hurt of rejection and the pain of isolation. Yet, in spite of that, he had a desire to change his situation and the lives of others who were going through the same emotional battles that he had experienced.

God bless you, Bob. Rest in peace, knowing that the world is a little better place because of you.

RINEY JORDAN, whose best-selling book, "All the Difference," is now in its sixth printing, is an international speaker and humorist. He can be reached at riney@htcomp.net or by visiting
www.rineyjordan.com.