DEDICATION TO BOB

Bob, Laura, and Vanessa are graduating. You will find dedications to each of them in this space in the next few days. This one goes to Bob.

Thank you for so many wonderful times as a roommate, friend, and a fabulous big brother! Love you, kid!


One of my favorite memories:

A horror story: "Women!"

For the first time in the 3.5 years that I’ve lived here, I got up at 6 am to go to the Dome to exercise. As I was getting ready, I heard the outside door slam. I assumed that it was one of the roommates going somewhere (6 am!!!) didn’t think anything of it. My roommate Melissa comes in my room and asks if it was I who slammed the door. “No, I thought it was you”, I answered. She looks at me with big eyes and goes, “I swear someone has been in our house at night, I’ve been hearing someone by the door the whole night”. So we both get the courage up to go to the kitchen, since the outside door is by the kitchen. As we are standing there, our fears are becoming more intense, because now I am sure that whoever the burglar is, is probably standing outside and watching us because the light is on in the kitchen, and it’s dark outside. So we are standing there together and whispering. I am telling her the story of the psycho who once sneaked in our apartment when I lived in the city and about attacked me in my own house with my parents sleeping in the next room. By this time we are even more tense and trying to see if we can see anyone outside.

SLAM BAM BAM

The door slams again, we are screeeeeeaaaaaaaming bloody murder, racing to my room, both knocking each other off the feet to get in and slam the door of my room shut. At this point I don’t know what to think anymore, I am trying to think whether to grab the hairspray and to spray it in the eyes of whoever it is that’s been trying to get in our house or to grab the scissors to stab him with.

Silence.

We hear our roommate Bob stomping down the stairs. We peak outside and half hissing, half crying desperately begging him to go check who it is that’s probably in the house by now. He looks at us like we are two freaks and goes, “You morons, the screen door doesn’t shut completely, so the wind blows and it wiggles” “women!!!” And stomps back upstairs.

This is an excerpt of an email Bob wrote to me afterwards in reply to my message to him: “You are awesome and by far my favorite roommate and an excellent friend - even if you are afraid of an unlatched door"