Lots of people drop by Torch Lake Views from time to time, leaving a comment here and there. Regular Readers step behind the counter, pour themselves a cup of coffee, and join the conversation. But one Regular Reader was always in a category by himself. LaMirada Bob reigned supreme as the Father of All Bloggers. Well, of this blogger anyway. His comments covered the dispatching of fierce muskies with pistols, buying skunk scent from Mel’s, recipes for crow pie . . . He became a secret blogger himself. He sent me links to everything he found interesting – and he found everything interesting. Whenever NASA Science News pops up in my inbox I think of him, and know I’ll be hearing from him soon, one way or another.
One morning in mid-December LaMirada Bob had breakfast with Bonnie his Beloved, fed Amore the little poodle a morning feast that other dogs can only dream of, and read the LA Times. Then he thought he’d have a nap. In his sleep, in peace, in a home filled with the love of a good woman and a good dog, he died.
Good neighbors came at once. Messages flew across the country to Utah and North Carolina and Washington and Texas – and Michigan. The clan gathered. We grieved, we comforted each other, we stumbled around in confusion and tended to important matters.
My gifted step-niece Elizabeth made a slideshow from family photos to share with friends after the funeral. I helped her rummage through Dad’s extensive archive and told her old family stories. (I love Elizabeth. She lets me go on, and on, and on . . . and then she makes exactly the sort of remark that Rob the Firefighter is given to making. It’s bracing.)
Much to my surprise we found some color slides from about 1950. I don’t remember ever seeing them before, and they came as a gift – balm to my heart.

It looks like we were having a serious conversation – probably about being a responsible driver of that snazzy red vehicle.
Eventually there were four daughters. Not one of the color slides, but still one of my all-time favorite pictures.
Who knew that grandchildren could be so wonderful? Here he is meeting Rob the Firefighter for the very first time.
He loved his long career at IBM, especially the years with the Space Program. He kept this photo in his office along with all his computers.
He enjoyed retirement, too, traveling around the country with Mom in their RV, spoiling the grandchildren rotten. When Mom died he was . . . lost. We all were. Then one fine day he met Bonnie, and a whole new chapter in his life began. Their wedding seems like yesterday, but they celebrated their 20th anniversary last year. I bless the day Bonnie his Beloved came into our lives.
As my plane circled LAX I looked down on the vastness of Los Angeles and saw the long concrete canyon with water at the bottom. That’s the . . . what’s the word I want? I thought. The thing – oh nuts. I’ll ask Dad. And then I realized for the very first time that I couldn’t do that. LaMirada Bob won’t be leaving any informative comments on Torch Lake Views anymore, either. If he does, you’ll know I’ve managed to get a REALLY good internet connection. But he left me a legacy. He passed on his love of reading and his endless and inventive curiosity. I know how to find interesting stuff. I know that even if you’re only launching a balsawood airplane, you might as well aim for the stars.
Martha
January 11, 2014
What wonderful photos and memories. A lovely and loving post. I’m so sorry, Gerry. To lose so much love. But to have had it at all… a wonderful life.
Gerry
January 11, 2014
Thank you, Martha. He did have a good life. He was a lucky man.
Lauren
January 11, 2014
So sorry for your loss… Lovely tribute.
Gerry
January 11, 2014
Thank you Lauren.
Bruce
January 11, 2014
A very nice tribute to a wonderful life.
Gerry, it may be time for you to get another snazzy red car.
Gerry
January 11, 2014
Thank you Bruce. I was thinking more along the lines of some Belgian draft horses and a covered wagon, but you never know.
Dawn
January 11, 2014
I did not realize yesterday when you talked about your Dad how recently he had left. What wonderful memories..but still..I know you’d rather have him then memories. Hugs. I’m sorry that was the reason you were in CA. I was thinking you were just having a trip away from the cold for awhile.
I’m so sorry.
Gerry
January 11, 2014
Thank you Dawn. I hadn’t decided to write about Dad’s death here, but I was working on adding stories to some of the old photos, and then yesterday you triggered a wonderful memory for me . . . and I spent the rest of the day writing, revising, throwing out, starting over. It was good for me. So thank you for that, too.
sybil
January 11, 2014
What a touching tribute Gerry. The words and images fit so beautifully. If you figure out how to get that awesome internet connection to the “great beyond” let me know how it’s done … Consider yourself hugged.
Till we meet again …
Gerry
January 11, 2014
Thank you Sybil – I feel myself very well hugged indeed.
tootlepedal
January 11, 2014
I know its rude to say this to a lady that I don’t personally know but you looked very cute as a child.
Gerry
January 12, 2014
I suppose I should be offended then, but I’m not. Thank you. (This is why I enjoy history. If I go back into it far enough I look cute.)
Martha J
January 11, 2014
Even though we have never met in person, Gerry, I feel like I know you from all your wonderful stories. I am so sorry for the loss of your dad. It is never easy to lose a parent, no matter the age. I am sure your dad is very happy with your posting. As for thinking about asking him something, I still do that with my mom who died in 1999. I don’t think that ever goes away. It is still fun to recall stories from the past and it always makes me feel better. The older I get, the more I get the feeling we are all one big family of sorts. Thanks for the peek into yours.
Gerry
January 12, 2014
Thank you Martha – I’m glad you like the stories. I like writing them, and hearing others in return. It seems to me that the past gives us back what we bring to it–all our eccentricities and quirks, all our virtues and flaws. Mirror, mirror.
Gay Montgomery
January 11, 2014
Gerry – so very sorry for your loss! I was very moved by your wonderful tribute. I will be praying for you, Rob, and Alicia. May you find peace in your memories.
Gay
Gerry
January 12, 2014
Hello Gay – Thank you. Best to you and Robin and James and Steven and the whole pile of exceptional grandchildren.
uphilldowndale
January 12, 2014
Oh Gerry, we are so sorry for your loss. Sending cyber hugs from across the globe.
Gerry
January 12, 2014
Thank you – cyber hugs arrived in due course, and are warming me as I write.
WOL
January 12, 2014
LaMirada Bob — what a great moniker! You were both fortunate that your dad was able to fully engage with the world and live life to the hilt right up to the very end.There can be a very special bond between dads and daughters. I know you shared one with your dad. E-hugs and my sadness at your loss. I can’t help noting what a luxuriant head of hair he had, even when the tide was beginning to ebb.
Gerry
January 13, 2014
Thank you for noticing that hair, WOL – my sisters and I always admired it! (Back in the days when I watched TV I was a big fan of “Cheers” and always got a chuckle out of Ted Danson’s character’s Great Hair. It always made me think of Dad.)
shoreacres
January 13, 2014
I’m so sorry for your loss, Gerry, and so glad that your father helped to shape you into the person you are. The father-daughter link truly is special, even though it sometimes takes a bit of age and experience to fully appreciate it.
My own dad died in 1981, but strangely enough I find I’m coming to know him better every year. I’m sure you’ll have the same experience – the beauty is that it doesn’t require an internet connection.
Gerry
January 13, 2014
Fathers and daughters, mothers and sons – then mix ’em up the other way, too – being a parent is no job for children. I find that most things in life become more understandable as time goes on. (It occurs to me that perhaps all our developing forgetfulness is useful.)
Scott Thomas Photography
January 20, 2014
What a legacy. The shuttle only launched once with a painted fuel tank, like your Dad, Columbia has/will be missed. Take care.
Gerry
January 20, 2014
I did not know that. (Dad would be pleased that you came up with new information for me. That was always his job.)
Scott Thomas Photography
January 21, 2014
Well, happy to pitch hit for him. The reason for not using paint was to save 600 lbs. in weight.
Gerry
January 21, 2014
See, this is why I do not wear makeup.
Belinda
January 30, 2014
Sorry for your loss. I know its hard. Beautiful pictures and memories.
Gerry
January 30, 2014
Thank you Belinda.
Giiid
January 30, 2014
Gerry, I am so sorry to read about the loss of your father.
Your photos are very touching. The loving relation between you and your father is so clear to see, that I got tears in my eyes. The way he looks at you made me imagine him to start a conversation with his little girl the next second, about space science or similar regardless your young age. He probably took it for granted that you understood him. I imagine him as a loving and clever father, which you are lucky to have had in your life. Time runs much too fast, thank God for the ability to think back and remember – and for good photos.
Gerry
January 31, 2014
Thank you, Birgitte. I was delighted to discover those photos too. It’s funny how different a person’s perspective can be. You see Dad about to explain the cosmos to me, while I see him about to explain why I should Never Do That Again! (Whatever “That” might have been–I was quite an inventive child.)
It is good to have photos. Even blurry ones can bring a vivid memory to life.
isathreadsoflife
February 22, 2014
Gerry, I do feel sorry for the loss of your dear father. Please accept my sincere condoléances. The precious pictures show how close you were to your Dad, they are touching and I hope they bring back memories, words, moments that will heal and be grateful that your paths crossed.
Gerry
February 22, 2014
Thank you, Isa. Coming across those early slides was an extraordinary experience.