Everybody needs a Bob

The most popular person in my wife’s family was her brother, Bob.

My wife came from a rather large family, and they all had a lot of kids, taking to heart to go out and replenish the earth.

That is all except her brother Bob, who married late. So, he became the uncle figure for all these kids.

He was the chief farmer on the family farm, dedicating himself to the tedious task of farming.

He milked about 27 cows morning and night for years on end. Each cow had a name.

When I visited, I would go out to the barn and would always place a grin on his face when I wasn’t careful where I stepped. My city ways made it appear that I was awkward, and I think it made his day.

I got on the wheel tractor to seed a wheat field one time and kept going around and around the field. Bob came running out waving his arms. I had made several rounds without any seed in the box.  He never got angry, just looked for where the seed left off so he could start again at the right place.

This was typical Bob and one of the reasons he was so loved.

Two of the families lived nearby, two were in California and my wife and I ended up in Washington. It seemed that everyone made an annual pilgrimage to the farm.  Many pictures show an assortment of little kids following “Uncle Bob” to the barn and elsewhere on the farm grounds.

When we settled in Electric City, one bedroom was set aside as a place for Bob. Several pictures of him are on the walls, one of his milk cans in the corner and bits of harness were for a time scattered about.

When we visited the farm, quite often we were there when another of the families were visiting.

He was kind to everyone. He was instructive and encouraging to all the kids, and I believe the favorite of all.

He smoked Bull Durham and rolled his own. Once, we came home and a Bull Durhan sack was hanging on the door knob. Bob was in town and we were all excited.

It was one of the very few times that he left the farm.

He served in the army during World War II as a medic and was awarded the Bronze Star. It is framed and hangs in his special room at our house.

He was in the thick of it and likely saw a lot of his friends and buddies pay the price.

He was at the Battle of the Bulge and later served in Germany.

He never talked about it and sometimes would seem to shut everything out for a time.

I had three brothers in that war, and all saw action. They never talked about the horrors of war, and I have found that most veterans who were in the thick of the war didn’t want to relive those moments.

When family came to visit on the farm, Bob always tried to see that the visit was a good experience. He made a lot of fishing trips to the Thousand Springs area so kids could catch a few fish. Grandma Compton was always there to prepare some meals, and her pies were legendary.

I remember that one time Bob took about a week off and drove to Missouri to visit a half-brother and half-sister he hadn’t known he had.

We saw to it that our kids, who wanted one, got one of his old milk cans.

One thing he was really particular about was clean milk.

Before he had refrigeration, he would place the milk cans in the feeder canal so the cold water would keep the milk cool.

When I first visited the farm, they were still milking by hand. Ever try it?

Then they got milking machines that hung from straps, which cut milking time in half.

Bob passed away a number of years ago but is still often the subject of stories when we get around the table.

He contributed a lot to the dozens of nieces and nephews, and, yes, even to some of their kids.

Every family needs a Bob!