My dad, Rob ..., passed away this week. He
never wanted to be a dad, but he stuck around and
did his best anyway.

He taught me how to play softball, how to play the
piano, how to do algebra, how to build an electric
motor, how to solder, how to snowboard, how to
code, how to drywall and spackle, how to change a
tire, how to jump a car, how to replace a carburetor...
his love language was sharing knowledge and he
taught me so much. His determination taught me that
I can do anything when armed with enough
knowledge.

He was a genius who didn't play well with
others, and his discerning standards taught me that I
was allowed to set boundaries before it was cool.

He was generous to a fault with complete strangers
and taught me how to tip the waitstaff properly.
When he took the El to center city everyday, he built
stops to feed homeless people into his routine. When
he took the bus every Wednesday to Allentown, he
bought food and bus tickets for people he didn't
know. When The Cafe was open, he once gave Rich a
wad of cash to pay his electric bill. He loved to
mentor Ham Radio kids and sent books and
equipment to anyone and everyone that showed
interest. He gave away almost as many musical
instruments as he collected.

The brand new snowboard in the basement tells me
that he wasn't ready to go... and I'll be seeing him in
all the familiar places that this heart of mine
embraces all day through... like the small trail at Big
Boulder that they named after him.

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My follow-up. Big boulder also named a bench after him. In the hall in front of some lockers. One day someone was being an a******, a young punk annoying people. Rob told him to go away. So he's sarcastically asked: what, you think this is your bench?

Rob smiled and pointed to the plaque with his name on it. And sent him away.