Bob’s Eulogy from Curt Dawson
This morning I lost a dear relative of mine, my uncle Bob. Thankfully, I was able to see him in Montreal on Monday evening and extended one Final goodbye.
Bob had a notable career in Hollywood as a special effects pro, working in both film and television. One of his earliest jobs was helping generate wind and rain for the memorable Twilight Zone episode “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet” with William Shatner (a real favourite of mine). He worked on the classic “Deliverance” with John Voight and Burt Reynolds, as well as several of the big screen “Star Trek” films, the mini series “Shogun” (filmed in Japan), “The A Team” and so many others. His handsome look even afforded him some lengthy screen time alongside Elvis Presley in “Easy Come Easy Go”. This guy really made me proud and I often bragged about him growing up.
Bob intervened early in my life shortly after my parents divorced and he provided me with that all important father archetype that’s so vital to a young man. He was always a larger than life figure to me, formidable both in stature and in style. Bob had some of the biggest hands I’ve ever seen. Mine looked like something out of a Palmolive commercial when placed next to those working man’s gorilla mitts. The first time I met my “Hollywood uncle” as a young boy, he had stopped by our Massachusetts home during a brief visit. He arrived tan-skinned, standing tall and wearing dark brown cowboy boots. From that day on, I had always thought of him as a movie star-a genuine California cowboy from the untamed west! So I vividly remember crying when I saw him for the second time in Los Angeles wearing slipper loafers. “Real cowboys don’t wear loafers” I thought. It turns out my movie star hero was just a working stiff from Reseda. But Bob was still tough as nails, footwear notwithstanding.
During one memorable early morning exchange while visiting Bob in his Sedona (AZ) home, I asked him if he had any shaving cream. “Shaving CREAM?” he asked. He honestly didn’t know what the hell I was talking about. This was clearly a straight-razor-with-water kind of guy. “Never mind”, I said sheepishly. That same morning as I entered the kitchen, I informed him that I had just found a live scorpion in my shoe. “Oh yeah, we’ve got some of those. So how do you like your eggs?” It didn’t even phase him that there was a poisonous predatory arthropod taking up residence inside my Reeboks. Bob was a man’s man, as they used to say. They just don’t make them like that anymore.
What I remember most about Bob was his big heart. Whether it was teaching me how to play poker and blackjack, taking me fishing in deep sea waters or desert streams, hosting dinner on my 21st birthday, helping my broke ass buy a new set of wheels or simply offering me life advice, Bob was someone who took the time to care. He gave a sh*t…
On Monday night, I held onto Bob’s hand and told him how much he meant to me. He had lost the ability to speak and his breathing was extremely laborious, I’ll never know if he fully understood my words but when he looked into my swollen eyes I felt that my presence had touched him. It was as if he was waiting to see his loved ones before making the final curtain calls. As I left Bob’s bedside, I kissed his forehead and told him it was alright for him to let go.
Uncle Bob would often sing an old song by Ray Price call “For the Good Times”. It makes me tear up now when I consider the opening lyrics: “Don’t look so sad I know it’s over but life goes on and this old world will keep turning. Let’s just be glad, we had some time to spend together” Today I’ll try to remember the good times as I imagine Bob riding off into the sunset like a cowboy in some old spaghetti western. I’ll even let him wear his loafers.
Love Curt