Robert Neil Bell

Good afternoon.

I’d like to thank Dora and all of the Bell Family, for allowing me the privilege of

standing before you today to say a few words and remember Bob.

He was a good son, a loving husband, father, grandfather, Vietnam veteran, a

churchgoing man of faith, a diehard Bears fan, and one heck of a salesman – and

that just begins to scratch the surface of the man he was.

Bob grew up a street smart kid in Chicago and went on to work in the

newspaper business; back when Chicago had five papers and the columnists

were like patron saints. Ring Lardner, Mike Royko, Studs Terkel.

I mention this, because back then these great newspaper men would write

stories about the common man, the little guy, who would overcome all odds

and do good things. They would take the smallest most unpolished details of a

person’s life and weave them into a story of humanity – and to generations this

helped define what it meant to be from Chicago.

I’ll always see Bob as one of these real life Chicago personalities . . .

kind and loving, but tough as a two dollar steak when he had to be, and that

side of him would usually come out when he was playing poker, or shooting

pool.

I can’t tell you how many times Bob told me the story of when he first laid eyes

on Dora. It was love at first site. Whenever he told me this, he would get this

expression on his face, a little smile would crease and then he’d gaze off into

the near distance, as if he was going back to that time and place; and he would

describe Dora’s beautiful long brown hair and gorgeous eyes and say how much

he wanted to meet her. He would nearly weep - - - and the last time he told me

this story, not too long ago, he did.

Thirty years have gone by since that day - what a testimony that is to their love.

I am the very proud member of a very small club called, “The Three Amigos.”

Bob, Phil Nathan and I, are the lucky Gringos who each married a beautiful

Latina; Dora from Guatemala, Eliana Nathan, from Peru and my lovely wife

Saray, from Costa Rica.

Over the years we have had countless back yard barbecues together, where

great food, wine and music were shared, along with millions of laughs and

the kind of deep friendship that has lasted through all of life’s ups and downs.

Although I tried, (well, sometimes) I could never quite salsa dance like Bob. He

would put Phil and me to shame. We’d say he was “pretty fly for a white guy.”

Thinking back . . . one summer evening, after one of these back yard get

together’s, the sun was almost down and I was saying good night to our friends.

Dora was nearby, just inside the doorway - and we looked out onto the front

sidewalk and shook our heads. There, next to his car in a silhouette under the

Victorian streetlamp were Bob and Saray, dancing. Two kindred spirits. He was

twirling her around and they were perfectly in step with each other, smiling and

laughing – but there was no music. It had been turned off by then.

Bob had said he didn’t need any music, it was in his head.

Let that sink in. I might come back to it.

I have never met anyone in my life who owned as many Tommy Bahama shirts

as Bob. He must own stock in the company. But what mattered to him was to

always look sharp, to always look your best. His sartorial splendor knew no

bounds.

Whatever the occasion, this man would dress to the nines. It didn’t matter

whether he was doing the dishes or going to a business meeting.

It is rare in this day and age to see a gentleman like that; always handsome,

groomed and pressed. Like a shiny new penny.

Dora told me that the day before he died; Bob went out to get his shoes shined

at Nordstrom’s. Who does that anymore? Of course he was wearing his fine-

looking, leather Chicago Bears jacket at the time. See what I mean about

always looking his best? That was Bob right to the end.

Another quality of Bob’s that I so admire, was his ability to treat everyone

equally. From the shoe shine boy or the guys at the car wash, to the CEO’s of

Silicon Valley’s biggest technology companies. He’d know them all by name;

give them a heartfelt greeting and a smile. You know what would happen then?

He’d get the same in return. When you smile, the world smiles back. He knew

that. He would make the effort and he did it naturally.

I suppose you’re all wondering about this magnificent, magic hat . . .

For the last five years or so, each September, Bob and Dora would invite Saray

and me to join them at the Santa Clara Art & Wine Festival. This, I can tell you, is

the best show of its kind in the area. Bob purchased this hat from a nice woman

who has a booth at the festival each year.

Shy, insecure individual that he is, Bob would stroll around the grounds, with

this hat cocked on his head, as if he were the Mayor of the festival. Smiling

people would stop him and ask where he bought this hat – and he was happy to

tell them. Dora would usually be standing quietly by his side, rolling her eyes.

Not everyone could pull this off. But Bob could. He just didn’t care.

The woman whom he purchased the hat from will be forever grateful, because

each year Bob did more for her sales than any advertising could ever do.

A few years ago, at this same festival in Santa Clara (with Bob wearing his hat)

we strolled into an artist’s booth. Dora was away visiting family at the time.

This Mexican American artist made beautiful bronze outdoor sculptures. My

wife Saray loves parrots, going back to her childhood days in Costa Rica. She

spotted this big bronze parrot for sale, and she just had to have it. So, we

bought it. It was made of two pieces, the parrot and the perch it sat on, which

looked exactly like a big cross.

I’ll never forget what happened next. Our car was parked way on the other

side of the festival, across the street, at the Chinese restaurant that Bob loved.

(The owners were always so nice to let us park there)

I took the parrot in my arms, and Bob held “the cross”. Saray and I walked

behind Bob as he raised the cross high, hat on his head and we marched and

danced through that festival like it was a New Orleans parade. The crowds

parted like he was Moses leading the Exodus. It was so much fun. Guess what,

there was no music then either. We made our own.

We immediately named the parrot, Bob. Not long after we bought another

backyard Parrot, she’s very colorful and we named her Dorita. To this day they

are perched in our backyard, looking at each other and they always will.

I have one more art & wine festival story, promise.

Another year, we were walking the festival together and stopped at an

artist’s gallery, where we saw several beautiful, paintings. The artist, a petite

woman with stylish black glasses and short blonde hair came over to greet

us. Her name is Terri Hill. She had wires connected to her head and carried a

medical bag at her side. We learned that she had brain cancer and this was her

medication. Bob had cancer by this time as well and he stood and talked with

her for the longest time, offering words of support and encouragement, telling

her that everything would be all right. We hope and pray that Terri is still doing

all right. We did see her this past September at the same festival.

I fell in love with one of Terri’s paintings that day, entitled “Grape

Expectations”, a big painting, over five feet tall. The problem was it was pretty

expensive and I was low on cash since it was still a few days away from payday.

You all know how that is. Well Bob didn’t hesitate; he graciously offered to pay

for it and said I could pay him back when I could. What a classy thing to do -

what a friend. The only caveat was that he made me carry this big heavy frame

back to the car myself.

So, now, whenever I walk into our home or backyard, I am reminded of Bob and

what a dear friend he was - and it makes me smile.

Bob passed away last Monday, April 15th

stick it to the IRS on tax day. I’m kidding.

I did want to be sure and share with you some things that Dora told me.

Bob was struck with cancer over three and a half years ago. He went through

several surgeries and unimaginable pain and suffering. But you would not know

it, because he was so optimistic and always made Dora and the family feel like

everything was fine. He was brave for everyone else. That is the very definition

of courage and dignity.

It is said, that the ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in

moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of

challenge and controversy. In that sense Bob stood very tall.

; which figures, he probably wanted to

Dora told me that Bob looked beautiful at the end. Before his last breath, the

color came back into his face, his eyes sparkled and he was a man at peace.

He died surrounded by Dora and the family, in a room full of love. We should all

be so blessed.

Alone for the last time together Dora stayed with Bob for hours after his death,

holding him in her arms and talking to him. She did not cry; she had no more

tears. They were both at peace.

Dora, the love and care you provided Bob these past few years is to be admired

and respected. Your grace is an inspiration.

We all have our own religious beliefs - and perhaps have faith that our souls

take passage to another, better place, wherever that may be. As for me, I

imagine it as watching a sailboat in the distance, getting smaller and fading

away into the horizon, where the ocean meets the sky. Although it is out of

site, you know it is not gone, just on the way to somewhere else, perhaps with

people on the other side, happy to see you.

There are more stories I could gladly tell today, but now I’d like to leave you

with this thought: If we are to remember Bob Bell, we can honor his life by

being more like him.

Say good morning to someone and mean it. Tell someone you love them and

mean it. Be a good friend and mean it. And go ahead and dance even when the

music isn’t playing.

I’d like to end with An Old Irish Blessing.

May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind always be at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

and rains fall softly upon your fields.

And until we meet again,

May the Lord hold you in the palm of His hand.

Amen.

Thank you and God Bless. ( John Spreer , April 21, 2013 )