To me, Bob was a caring, smart, big brother, who knew about contentment.
I bonded with Bob: waking to his inquisitive stare, “Who wet this bed?”
A built-in playmate: I begged him to be a bronco for me, and he did. He bucked me, flying head first, across the basement. (I only asked once), Our worlds started diverging as he went off to Loyola High School, adding over two hours of travel-time each day from my big brother. His preference for light laughter, rather than a heated argument, may have saved us both, when CJ took us in the back yard, with twitching biceps, after our first and only, fantastic, unscheduled, Ocean City extension. We kinda grew apart, as he and I had our own families. At larger family gatherings, he never shied away from an opportunity to speak. He fought off a slight stutter, but you wouldn’t know it, when he recited Corinthians 13 to a full church, at Mom & C. J.’s anniversary service.
Later in years, he thankfully tweaked my conscious. With that same, “Who wet the bed” look. He simply mentioned a “competitiveness between us”. I didn’t sense it; we took different paths? Could it be? Could it be my adolescent mantra: “Mom liked him best”! It made me deal with this coping block, concluding: Even if, why not? Moms are human too! This realization allowed me to love Mom, more, and more. Thanks Bob!
I admired his enduring giving of his time, by contently visiting family members, when they became immobile, or confined to home. Bob seemed content!
Philippians 4: [11] I speak not as it were for want. For I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, to be content therewith. [12] I know both how to be brought low, and I know how to abound: (everywhere, and in all things I am instructed) both to be full, and to be hungry; both to abound, and to suffer need.
