Remembering My Uncle Bob

Maralee_and_Bob Swerman, circa 1981
Originally uploaded by O. Douglas Jennings

The first movie that I ever saw in a theater was Disney's Bambi. The man who took me to see that classic film along with my cousins was their dad, my Uncle Bob. We rode to the movie in the family station wagon that carried him, my Aunt Maralee and their kids all the way from LaCrosse, Wisconsin that Summer to where I and my family lived in rural Southern Illinois.

To me, Uncle Bob was the kind of gregarious, unflappable dad I might see on TV in the mid-60s: smartly dressed for every occasion, well-groomed with smiling lips pressed around a distinguished pipe that was popular in that era. As I got older, I always admired his urbane demeanor and "can-do" sensibility. I can't recall exactly what he did for a living, but I'm pretty sure it involved writing for a corporation, and which he sometimes did on a free-lance basis. I imagine him, back in the day, as being like a wholesome version of a character from the TV show Mad Men: creative, enthusiastic, stylish. I will never forget how he gave me some good input on character development for a comic strip that worked on in the 90s. And there was one bit of his personal advice that still sticks with me: Don't short-change your family in the pursuit of your career.

The last time I talked with him was at my Grandmother's funeral two decades ago. He was kind, attentive and encouraging as to me as my young family and graphic arts vocation were in their early stages. He told me, in so many words that he was proud of me. I always appreciated that.

The years have rushed by since then. I had been hoping to have another chance to talk with him and let him know of his positive influence on my life. But Uncle Bob passed away this past weekend. I know his four grown kids (cousins that I have always felt closer to than any others) miss him terribly. I'm heart-broken for their loss. I'm also sure they know they had a great dad who cared for them and who had a cherished impact on many other people --including me who will always have wonderful, fond memories of my Uncle Bob. I miss him as well.

Uncle Bob at a family picnic in 1952