Poem tacked to Dad's Bulletin Board, April 2018

Verdict With Guitar

This rising isn't air

but cups and saucers

formed by the roundness

of their own evidence

In the same sense the trees

though not yet guitars

are testimony of their own music, 

bending slightly 

There are charts 

to explain all this, 

and circuits, disregarded

by the weight of their own separateness

Still, no agency can prevail, no dessert

served. Nothing implied

except circumstances

already broken

And so these used ideas 

here worn like clothes 

will be compensated, without apology, 

by the softest chords of their instrument

-Jim Jarmusch

Better that Dad not see San Francisco 

one last time 

rather let him hear it 

almost indescribable, like radio 

our voices on the phone sound almost as young

and still full of the first wonder of location, 

and the breadth of freedom 

from the River to the Bay and back again

as our bodies are much older and used 

to the familiarity of sunrise and sunset 

we are still standing, remembering

even with the ghosts nudging us 

we refuse to leave what remains 

what we know was good 

what we know was great

- Gabrielle Daniels, excerpt from "Proving Impermanence" 

BAMPFA Artlab

It's been about a week since dad passed away. Resigned to living with the hole in my life that is his absence. Old men taking their determined, shaky walks in the park make me sad... and weirdly envious. It's unreasonable to wish that some people would never die, but Dad managed to slip out of Death's grasp so many times that I guess I thought he really would live forever. He was finally happy, calm, and present. He loved every day. Though he couldn't drink or smoke anymore, he could still sit in the sun, listen to jazz, and enjoy a bag of potato chips. So what more can you ask for?

Dad's life spread far and wide. He felt deeply and said little. He enjoyed his pleasures all his life; music, art, food, political theater, good design, the 101 from SF to LA and back again. Scotch on the rocks. Mixed plate lunch. His kids. He worked prodigiously. He kept trying at love and finally found Jean. 

He was loved.

Gathering together in the beautiful home he shared with Jean, it became clear that there are many very different versions of Bob, through the years.  So this blog and website are a place where we can all share our memories. 

Please share your memories and photos here. 

Lisa Onodera

Topanga April 29, 2018