If you would like to add a remembrance of Bob Blue you can email it to
joe@bobblue.org

Some of my favorite childhood memories with my dad were when he and I went to the same school.   Actually, he was teaching and I was in 4 th grade.   After my parents had separated, sometimes my dad would drive to our house extra early so we could still walk to school together.   Our conversations had to do with my friends (many were his students), Girl Scout meetings, our school play, a story I was writing... and he listened to all of my 4 th grade concerns and ideas and wanted to know every detail.   Sometimes we sang together as we walked, and he taught me songs on the piano in his classroom before school started.   We had goofy conversations while I made construction paper murals and played with friends who also made it to school early.   Sometimes the teacher next door would hear us and come over to join in the fun.  

The next year, I got the chance to be a part of my dad's new scene when he moved from Newton to Somerville.   He was 33, I was 10, and we'd both mostly gotten out of our post-divorce depression.   He was back to being excited about his life, and I shared a lot of fun times with him and his roommates and friends.   He had rediscovered his passion for songwriting and performing.   On January 7th of 1982 , I wrote in my diary about how I'd gone with him to hear Frankie Armstrong at Passim and she had told him that she wanted to make a record with "The Ballad of Erica Levine" on it.   It was the first time that anyone had asked if they could record a song of his.   I wrote,   "He was so happy.   It's funny to see him so happy.   He giggles a lot and skips around.   I love my father a lot."

During that period, he started performing at the Nameless Coffee House and playing piano at Steve's Ice Cream.   Steve's wasn't a performance venue, but they had an old piano in the area where customers waited in line.   I loved it.   I'd get all the free ice cream I could eat, with hot fudge and mix-ins, too, and smile as people took in my dad's performances.   The workers put out a special tip jar for him, and everyone marveled at how he could play anything they requested.   And if he couldn't, he'd fake it with gusto.   One letter he wrote to me in August of 1982 , when I was in Florida for summer vacation, captures the feeling of that time (it's on the Snoopy stationery I gave him).   He wrote, "I trimmed the hedges, got a Somerville Library card, and 'worked' at Steve's today.   I got $9 in tips, and two people asked for my phone number for future jobs.   If I become a famous musician, will you still remember me as the humble but darling person that I am, or will you think success has spoiled me?" In that letter, my dad also recounts his unfortunate metamorphosis into a piece of bakeware (I can't retell that one, so you'll have to read it yourself).  (read Bob's Letter)

Another favorite time with my dad was a few years later, when he took me to England for a week.   It was the summer of my fourteenth year.   He had been there a few times, and had brought my sister the previous year.   We stayed at a youth hostel, rode a tandem bike together and watched "A Midsummer Night's Dream" in the park.   Not content for long without his own stage, he had found an open mic in London.   On August 21, 1985, at around 8:15 p.m. (yes, I've always been obsessed about details) I wrote in my journal, "Daddy is going to perform soon," and quickly ended the day's entry with, "DADDY'S STARTING!"   I have pictures that each of us took on a train ride to St. Mary Cray .   Looking at those pictures reminds me of how happy we were to spend that time together.   As I read over my journal, I remember how I wanted to capture every moment.

We both regretted the years when our contact was sporadic after that.   We didn't see each other or talk as much during my high school years or during the ten years that I lived in Washington State.   But we never really lost our connection--we wrote long and detailed letters periodically.   He never failed to gush about a gift I'd sent him, and he always told me how proud he was of whatever I was doing.   And when I moved back to Massachusetts in 1999, my dad made no secret of how he felt about it.   It would be hard to imagine a warmer welcome than the one I got in Amherst.   People in town from all walks of life would say, "Oh, you're Bob's daughter!   I'm so glad you moved here!" And my timing turned out to be ideal, because he had a bad MS exacerbation three weeks after my big move, and despite his friends' and neighbors' best efforts, he would have had to give up his freedom if I hadn't intervened.    It was a hard transition for me, but my dad wanted to make it as easy as possible.   I wrote in my journal on November 24, 1999, "I'm feeling so good!   My dad is getting lots of care and love, and is thrilled to have me here."

My interventions into his health care grew steadily over the next seven years.   There were a lot of times when I was terrified that MS had taken over, but my dad would always bounce back and pick up his life right where he'd left off.   One scary hospitalization came just a few days before the Children's Music Network gathering in 2004, where he was supposed to accept the Magic Penny Award.   I'm convinced that his rapid recovery from the infection was due to 100% pure determination.   An audio/video recording of his acceptance speech at the gathering is on his home page , and you can see the elation in my dad's face as he soaks in the laughter and applause of dear friends and family.

As his health care proxy, the only instruction my dad would give me was, "Don't pull the plug!"   He loved life, and wanted to make sure nobody counted him out before his time.   In a 2001 interview with a reporter from the Hampshire Gazette, he made a typical comment about his condition:   "Gradually, I'm deteriorating.   And unless they cure it, which doesn't seem likely, I'll probably die when I'm about 100...   But I was going to do that anyway."   In more recent years, sometimes he'd tell me, "I'm starting to think I may not live to be 100."   Then he'd add a quip like, "Maybe only 99."   I knew what he meant.   He did sometimes get depressed when he thought about the things he couldn't do or the things that had become too difficult.   But then he'd suddenly bounce back from depression just like the infections, and focus again on all the things he loved in this life that he still could do--especially being with the people he loved.   He was so grateful to everyone who helped him to keep doing that.

I want to assure everyone that even though I wasn't ready for him to go (I'm still not), I know this:   My dad gave me enough love in thirty-five years to last me a lifetime.   He worked so hard to stay here with the people he loved in the life that he loved for as long as he possibly could.  

I've gotten props for my efforts on his behalf.   My mom deserves a lot of the credit for giving me the skills to take care of my dad.   She was, and is, an extraordinary caregiver. On my birthday and probably every time my dad saw her in the last few years, he thanked her.   She's always been there for me and supported everything I could do to take care of my dad.  

And I've heard that girls learn from their fathers how they deserve to be treated by men... so you can understand how I welcomed Joe into my life when I met him five years ago.   I can't imagine how I would have gotten through the last years without him, and especially the last week.   He's beyond anything I could have asked for in a partner.   In my dream a few nights ago, Joe figured out how to put a time machine on my dad's website.   You could click on any date you wanted, and you'd be there.   I know that Joe would set that up for me, and all of us, if he possibly could.   But he's created this website and this page, which is pretty great.   All of us who love my dad can share our memories.   And we'll continue to learn important lessons from him and love and grow.   And my dad would like that a lot.

Lara Shepard-Blue

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(Some of Ann Morse's Memories of Bob Blue)

What can I say about Bob?   Where do I start?   He's been my dear friend for 40 years and I already miss him tremendously.

One early memory stands apart from the others.   It was New Year's Eve 1967, and we were, believe it or not, in Times Square to watch The Ball drop.   Coincidentally, it was also the eve of a potential subway strike, due to start soon.   We ran from Times Square to the nearest subway stop, very relieved to see the (possibly last) train still there, sat down, and waited for the train to leave the station - for 4, 8, 12 minutes.   Fellow travelers fidgeted and looked nervously around, likely wondering if they would get to their destinations. Never at a loss for ways to comfort people, Bob figured what to do-- he started singing at the top of his lungs every train song he knew-- ' If you miss the train I'm on. . .This train is bound for   glory. . .I'm leaving on a freight train . . ."   Shyly, my voice joined his, and then one by one, the usually isolated, eye contact-avoidant, New York City commuters started joining in, their initially embarrassed expressions morphing into joyful camaraderie, until most of them were heartily singing with us.   Fifteen minutes later, when the train suddenly lurched into motion, we and our fellow riders communally burst into raucous cheers! As we exited the train, the remaining riders applauded.

Sadly, we lost contact during Bob's marriages. In the early eighties, after Bob's divorce, we renewed our relationship. One day, Bob and I were walking up the steep hill outside my family's Berkshire house, when we decided to stop and look at the view--and to catch our breath. That moment inspired Bob's song "Standing Still.".

Out of breath and overpowered by the steepness of the hill,
We smile as we decide the view is better standing still.
We turn our backs on where we're going to reflect on where we are,
And remember where we used to be and wonder if it's far.

Can you take a photograph of what we gave each other then,
And in harsher times, we'll take it out, and give it once again.
For the gentleness we found together, standing on that hill,
Can we pause a while, and with a smile, remember standing still?

Thank you Bob for that beautiful song and all the photographs which we have shared over so many years. This is one of those harsher times, when memories must suffice. May everyone who ever loved Bob continue to support and comfort each other as he would. And may we be inspired by his example to find pleasure in every day.

I love you Bob, Lara and Katy.  

Love, Ann

Ann B. Morse

Nashville, TN  

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My name is Katy, and Bob Blue was my father.   I live in Florida.   I was driving to work this morning, and I looked at the azaleas in full bloom and started crying because I thought to myself how much my dad would have appreciated them.   He saw the beauty in everything though; not just azaleas.   He was a wonderful father, and I loved him dearly.   When Lara and I were little, he always thought of creative ways for us to learn, and made learning fun.   Like telling time.   He would reward us with M&Ms when we got it right.   He made an effort to shield us from the violence on television.    We moved around a lot when we were little, but he always made it an adventure instead of an inconvenience.   It could have been a little traumatic, but thanks to him and my mom, we dealt with it in the best way.

I loved to play Scrabble with him.   He was so good at it, that he made it a real challenge.   We used to take pictures of the board when we were done, impressed with our vocabulary.   I remember the joy in his face when he played the piano, and I was so proud of his songwriting abilities.   He encouraged me to take piano lessons, but unfortunately I did not possess his talent for that.   I dropped the lessons pretty quickly.   I love to sing, which I know came from him, but I suffer from terrible stage fright.   He asked me to sing a Janet Jackson song once that he had heard was popular.   I did the best I could, and he said, "That's great - now I know exactly how it sounds."   He always praised my ability to listen to a song, and then sing it exactly as the artist did.   He also praised my ability to mimic the flugle horn in Dan Fogleberg's "Longer".   When he met someone new that I was dating, he'd say, "You know, she does a great impression of a flugle horn!"     It would always get a laugh.  

My dad just wanted me to be happy, and unfortunately I've had a lot of sadness in my life.   He was always there for me though, cheering me on, and hoping I made the right decisions.    He always did the things he loved.   He loved teaching.   He loved music.   We did not share the same musical tastes when I was a teenager, but my dad made a point of having disco music at his house for me when I came over!   It's funny, but now I love the music we listened to growing up:   Jim Croce, Barry Manilow, Gordon Lightfoot and the Carpenters.   

Recently I told my dad something that was very true.   I said, "Every time I discover something about myself that I like, it turns out to be a resemblance to you."   They say that we become our parents.   God, I hope that's true.   I can't think of a better role model than my dad.   I'm going to try to find the happiness my dad wanted me to have, and I hope everyone can learn from my dad's capacity for joy and let the Bob Blue in you come out.

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Dear Folkie Folks,

I am so saddened that Bob Blue has left us. And so glad that, as a
songwriter, he will always be with us, in soul-form. Meeting him after a
long hiatus from PMN was one of the compelling reasons to get involved
again. His example of letting go of what he could not change and using what
he still had to the hilt is a lesson I have internalized. And I've played
his "Pigs" for dozens of friends and relations, all of whom loved it. It's
right up there with "You've Got to Be Taught" from "South Pacific" as a
lesson in how damn silly bigotry can be.

I send my condolences to his family and closest friends.

Marcia Deihl

I too mourn the loss of a wonderfully giving and talented man. He never stopped his involvement or his giving, right up to the end. I copied this from an email Bob sent out a few months back. I believe he wrote it. And if not, it certainly sounds as if he should have.

'Tis no gift to be gifted, 'Tis no gift to be smart,

If it only serves to make us stand apart.

For when we find ourselves in the place that's right,

We will all stand together, and all shine bright.

When true intelligence is named,

We ought to be proud; we should not be ashamed.

To learn, to learn will be our delight,

But when learning's lonely, it's just not right!

-- Mara Beckerman 

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Hi - a memory of Bob I will never forget took place last year, at the PMN gathering in Queens, NY in January. On the Sunday morning, when everyone gathers together to sing wonderful and inspirational songs, some people started dancing in the middle of the circle. Suddenly, there was Bob, in the middle with them, dancing in his wheelchair, turning circles in time to the music, and smiling. That was so Bob. Tonight on our radio show my husband Graham and I devoted the last hour to Bob and his wonderful music, hopefully exposing some folks who had never heard of him, to Bob's music, and his great humanity. Last January, at the PMN gathering in Amherst, we sang Bob's song "That's Sclerosis". We went on late, and Bob had already had to go to bed, much to our disappointment, but we sang it for him anyway, and added a third verse that we had written for him. Here it is (to the tune of "That's Amore"):

Oh, when you cannot do things that you used to do,
That’s sclerosis.
It can seem like the sky has come down right on you.
With sclerosis.
You can sit there and cry. You can try out Tai Chi
Or hypnosis
Or let bygones be gone and live for today.
That’s sclerosis!

Oh, you could reminisce, dwell on things that you miss,
With sclerosis.
Live a life filled with bliss, and pretend it’s a
Misdiagnosis!
You can try to just see the way things used to be,
That’s neurosis.
Or be glad you’re alive with that multiple
(You guessed it)
sclerosis!

Oh when you feel the beat but you can't move your feet, you've got wheels there
And though you cannot speak, you're a computer geek, you can still share -
Share your trials, send big files, lots of smiles
For all your friends out there
Just as long as you know that we all love you so and we do care
Just as long as you know that we all love you so,
That's Amore!

Barbara Dean

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Hello everyone,
This is Kristine, Bob's former caregiver. In the fall of 2003, after taking a year off of school to travel and take care of my mom, I made the decision to return to college. Most of my friends had graduated and moved on so returning was a little like starting my freshman year over again. One of the first things that I had to do was look for a job. I replied to an ad that read "a personal care assistant needed for a 56 year old man with Multiple Sclerosis". Little did I know that when I clicked on the link I was about to gain an amazing friend and mentor. Little did I know that I was about to spend the next two years of my life caring for one of the most kind and generous people I will ever meet. Little did I realize the sadness that I would feel today when I heard the news.

One of the reasons that Bob and I got along so well was because we had a similar sense of humor. Despite what either of us was going through, we could always find something to laugh about. I can remember so many occasions just sitting there and laughing until we had tears rolling down our faces. There were many times when I would be studying into the early hours of the morning and need to take a break. I would walk over to Bob’s, knowing for sure that he would be awake, make a cup of coffee and sit and talk with him for awhile. Bob had an endless supply of stories that taught me a lot about life. As many of you know, just being in Bob’s presence could be an inspiration.

I will always cherish the time that I had with Bob. Although it was short, I am very lucky to have gotten to know him on such a personal level. I thank God that I answered that ad and Bob and Lara decided to hire me. The knowledge and friends that I gained will last me the rest of my life. I can only hope that people’s lives will continue to be touched by Bob as mine has. I want to thank all of Bob’s family and friends who supported me when I cared for Bob. Some of you I have never met but I did see what a difference you made in Bob’s life.
Love,

Kristine Pelton

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Hi -- I learned of Bob's death yesterday, as I was preparing to record the 3/25 edition of Valley Folk. I've included two sets from "The Best of Bob Blue" in the show, one in the first hour and one later in the second.

I only met Bob a few times, but was always amazed by his grace under amazing pressure as well as, of course, his large and wonderful repertoire.

Susan Forbes Hansen, WFCR

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Hi!
I'm Richie I'm the middle brother. Howard is the oldest, and Michael who's message is on this site is my oldest of three young men.
Some of my fondest memories of Bob where in our second house on Long Island, where we shared a bedroom for a number of years. We were both afraid of the dark and would talk for a long time each night until we were too sleepy to keep our eyes open; then we'd look under our beds, turn toward the wall so we would't see the monsters coming to get us in the night, and we' drift off to sleep.
When we were older in junior high and high school we loved to sing two part harmony . we like to think we were the next Everly Brothers. Moon light and Roses was one of our favorites. Bob was writing words to songs back then too, and we'd sing them ocassionally. I miss singing with him so much.

I too am proud to see what Bob has done with his life. He's got many, many good friends. He's made a tremendous impact on so many children.
His talent, humor, kindness, humanity, and love are all too rare a thing in this world, and that's too bad. He will surely be sorely missed.
I miss him so much now, even though by the time I got back from Viet Nam, he was out the house and the state for good.
We love you Bob!

Richard Blue

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OK – I’m going to push to get beyond my survivor’s guilt – to say something. Here I come.

I’m Bob’s oldest brother. I admired Bob for a bunch of things. For one thing, he left Long Island long ago, in time to lose his Longisland accent. I’m still here. And I still speak Longisland.

Ok – that’s not a great start. How about this. Bob was someone who did it “his way.” He carved out his own path and did some fantastic things. Long ago, he hitched up our pony to a cart and rode it to school, Walt Whitman High School in South Huntington, NY. It was definitely an uncool thing to do. Trust me. I graduated from Whitman ahead of Bob. I knew the school and the kids who went to it. But Bob had fun.

Most people dealing with MS as severe as his case became, would have let themselves be put into a nursing home years ago. But with the help of Lara – his wonderful daughter, Bob fought that. And he fought it long, creatively and successfully.

And then there were Bob's songs. If there is any snow on the ground, it's impossible for me to ride on Route 23 between our place in upstate New York and Great Barrington, without singing "Winter in New England" in my head. Even if I can't remember all the words, I still sing it.

Partly because of distance, I only got to one performance at Bob’s Stone Soup café. But every time I looked at Bob's website and saw the schedule, jam-packed with friends who came to perform, sometimes for fewer people than might make up a basketball team, I marveled at him. Bob constantly had something to look for and in turn, his friends could glory in his affection and his positive outlook. Bob would have known the glass was half full, not half empty even before glass was invented.

Maybe it sounds like Bob and I were close. We were not. We had issues that sometimes keep siblings apart. I saw him half a dozen times in the last five or six years. But one time, Bob got me when my defenses were down and we wound up hugging and I told him that I loved him. Damn him, though it was totally true, how did he finagle that out of me!

In his last e mails to me, Bob kept praising me for a lengthy piece of writing that I did. He had read it several times (or his aid read it to him) and he was reading it for the fourth time, commenting after each part of it. All that positive stuff that came out of that brother of mine. Why did he have to do that?

I feel like I have a big hole in me now, in my chest area. I miss him so much.

Howard Blue
Forest Hills, NY

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In the midst of this great sorrow, Si Kahn's words come in song:

"No circle has been broken here,
No one that stands alone -
The threads of Life so lately broke
Are woven through our own"

Thank you, Si - and above all, thank you Bob.
Carry it on - Leslie

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Since hearing of his passing, I am humbled by his brilliance. I had the privilege of meeting Bob in Petaluma some years back and attending a workshop with him. I will proudly carry his musical message to all the children I encounter.
Linda Johnson

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I never met him, never even heard him perform live, but still Bob Blue has been one of the most important influences on my musical life. His loss will resound for many years, but his gifts to us even longer.

Kristin Lems
musician, educator, student of life

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Dear Folks,

I am still in heavy grief about Bob, but glad to know that so many of you
share my feelings and sadness ... and joy in Bob's life as well.

Bob's song "Courage" became my signature song and it's been a guiding force in all my professional work for the last ten years. I will miss his terribly. As Sarah Pirtle and I talked Friday night about the New England Gathering on Saturday, we recalled that song * and I shared with her that I thought that song was about Bob. Such a gifted person * and one who used his gifts to bring people together * never to show off how special or talented HE was. That is the true gift he had.

Yours in love and tears, Mara Sapon-Shevin

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My heart and thoughts are with the Blue family. How fortunate we all
are to have known such a genius. The world was certainly a better,
kinder, funnier place because of him. I grieve for us too because the
flow of some of the most incredible songs ever written has been stopped. . .
Patricia Shih

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I hope this email gets to Bob's family, friends and all of us in CMN. It was with great sorrow that I learned today of Bob's death. My husband Stanley suffered a heart attack last week, had surgery, and is home, frail, but trying to get stronger. Hearing of Bob helped us both to focus on our blessings, and we immediately began playing Bob's adult, and childrens' albums.
I hope you will all pass this information along, and tune in on Saturday, March 25th to KPFK,ORG , or tune your local radios to 90.7 FM at 8 AM (L.A. time) to hear my program dedicated to the memory of Bob Blue. I will be playing both his adult songs and his childrens' songs. And as I have always done, I will continue to play Bob's music often on "Halfway Down The Stairs" He has enriched all our lives, and the lives of my listeners. His music and his beautiful, loving soul will continue to teach us and comfort us and help us to grow.
SATURDAY. MARCH 25th , KPFK Loss Angeles 90.7 FM at 8:00 AM
on web KPFK.ORG (go to OnAir, or Listen)
With love to you all, Uncle Ruthie Buell

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I first heard about Bob Blue from a graduate class at Walnut Hill in Raymond, NH. Miriam Kronish was the teacher of the Music in the Classroom class. She brought the cassette, Starting Small to us one Saturday. She described Bob bringing them to a school, fresh off the presses, still needing the extensive liner notes to be inserted.

The song she shared with us that day in the early 1990s was Benny Miller. I think that nearly every person in class bought a cassette.

I shared it with my 4th grade class that year. It was a tough year and a particularly tough little girl, Anne B. loved it. She listened to it every day while she did her D.O.L. and Daily Geography. She listened to it so much, in fact, that she wore it out. She was
devastated when she told me. I assured her that it was OK.

A few years later, I attended a CMN gathering in Worcester, MA and I finally met Bob. I was excited to finally replace the music that I missed. During the lunch hour, I told him Anne's story, tearing up a little as I remembered the fourth grader who was almost always dirty and rumpled, who had to care for her little sister after school, and
who wore out the cassette because she loved it so much. Before I could ask him if he had any cassettes to buy, Bob gave me two! He said one was for me and one was for Anne.

I wasn't working in that town anymore, but made a special trip back to the school on my next vacation. Anne was in the Middle School by then. Unfortunately, she was absent that day. (I gathered that she was absent a lot....) I sat in the office and wrote her a note and left it with the music for her to get the next day.

I never heard from her, but know she must have been thrilled. I know that I was.

In memory,

Debbie Potter

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I only meet Bob once, at the NYC gathering some years ago, but I got to know him a bit working with him on an article for Pass It On!. I also had the opportunity to contribute a bit to his well- being and work, I think by donating toward a computer or software he needed, and I appreciate the CMN community making that helping possible.

On Thursday, I happened to be on a long drive, and, although I was able to hear NPR and then CBC radio, I chose to listen to the first CD of "The Best of Bob Blue." From that CD, I especially love "My Mom was a Hippie", "The Work That I Do" (the song about Kanga and Roo, and "While I'm Here". What an incredible legacy of music, teaching, and caring he has left us!

Liz Benjamin, Ottawa, Ontario

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Bob came into my life through my wife, Ann Morse; therefore it is only fitting that a poignant memory I have is from our wedding.   Imagine this scene: Bob is in his scooter on the dance floor smiling broadly as Ann "dances" with him, her white dress swirling as she circles his dancing chair.   Everyone present could readily see Bob's indomitable spirit and love of music, but few were aware of aspects of that day that make that a powerful scene for me.   First was the fact that Bob was exhausted.   The night before he slept very little because he was in a hotel that lacked needed handicapped accessible features.   More importantly, Bob was celebrating Ann's marriage to me despite that fact there had been times when he had hoped to be in my place.   I have no idea what it might have cost him emotionally to be part of our special day, but I do know that it added greatly to Ann's ability to fully embrace the day, knowing that as she gained a husband she was not losing one of her oldest and dearest friends.

David Dickinson

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Jay Mankita

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It has been said, "Death ends a life, not a relationship." Bob, I feel you in my heart, and you will continue to make me smile.

Beverly Granoff

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Thank you, Bob.

Aileen Vance
Santa Cruz, California

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It is with the deepest sadness that I update Bob's website today.   He passed away yesterday due to complications from his multiple sclerosis.   I have known Bob for almost five years since I met my partner Lara, his daughter.   It didn't take long for me recognize all of the wonderful things about him that so many of you are already aware of.   I will forever miss the humor & warmth that I shared with him and Lara.   Even in times where his health was in jeopardy he maintained his humor, his concern for us, and his desire to live and fight his MS. I doubt that anyone has ever dealt with so much struggle with as much courage as Bob. He was a dear friend and an extra dad.

It has been an honor for me to run this website for Bob and try to expose his work and wisdom to as many people as possible.   I hope to continue to do that with Lara and provide a space here for friends, family, and fans to share their thoughts.     It's hard to think of what else to say but I think the rest of are going to have to be a little braver, smarter, funnier, and more committed to goodness and justice to make up some of the difference in a world without him.

Joe Oliverio

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Bob's brother, Richard, and I have been married for 40 years. Though from afar, we have watched Bob grow from an extremely bright and talented young man to the amazingly talented man who touched so many, many people's lives. Though we were not able to see him often over the years, there is not one time that I ever saw him without a radiant smile!

A while back, I came upon a poem that I thought was very meaningful, but not until this week did I realize how very meaningful it is. It is called 'The Dash', and I hope that you won't mind me writing it, because I think that you will agree Bob lived his dash to the fullest and deepest extent of anyone that I have ever known.

I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on his tombstone from the beginning...to the end.
He noted that first came his date of birth and spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time that he spent alive on earth...
And now only those who loved him know what that little line is worth,
For it matters not how much we own; the cars...the house...the cash,
What matters is how we live and love and how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard...are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left, that can still be rearranged
If we could just slow down enough to consider what's true and real,
And always try to understand the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger, and show appreciation more,
and love the people in our lives like we've never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect, and more often wear a smile...
Remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.

So when your eulogy's being read with your life's actions to rehash...
Would you be proud of the things they say about how you spent your dash?

Bob spent his dash with every ounce of love and quality that he had.

Eileen Blue

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When I learned of Bob's death on Thursday, I emailed the host of Spare the Rock, part of the children's programming on Northampton's new low power community station, to ask if he had The Best of Bob Blue. When he told me he didn't have it, I went to the station Saturday morning with the album. He asked if I could suggest a couple of songs. Jeez! Two songs to convey Bob?? In a fluster I pointed to Eensy Weency Spider and Dear Mr. President. I introduced the songs in some garbled fashion. Listening to Spider, I realized this song said it all for me about how Bob lived his last eight to ten years. "She will not let misfortune keep her from doing what she can....We cannot be defeated if we rise each time we fall." But it was the last verse that did me in, with Bob's humor and his literal challenges. "Perhaps you think this allegory goes a bit too far/ Climbing up a pipe is not like reaching for a star/ But whether it's a water spout or mountain that you climb, You've come this far. Indulge me one more time. / It could be said that each of us climbs up a water spout./ The downward pull of gravity is not what it's about / The upward pull of hope is what will save us in the end./ Be like that eensy-weensy spider, rise again!"

I have a confession. I found it very hard to visit Bob in the last couple of years. Having a chronic illness myself didn't help (although mine is only a minor irritation compared to MS). The Sunday of the PMN gathering in Amherst I was sick and only stopped by to deliver something. Somehow I managed to be in the chapel when Sandy Pliskin sang his song for Bob, and I was struck with how Bob looked then. I told him later that if we could hold a PMN gathering every weekend, we just might be able to reverse his MS. When I heard about his death, I realized that the way he lived his last years gave me the hope and vision that completely contradicts the fear that I felt before he died.

Johanna Halbeisen

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Below is a collection of testimonials to Bob, which appeared in the summer 2004 issue of "Pass It On."    It preceded the Children's Music Network award ceremony held in New Jersey at which Bob was feted.   He was able to attend and enjoy the many heartfelt tributes and accolades paid to him that he so richly deserved.   It was a very joyous occasion, and it was a joy to know Bob. While it is very sad now that he is not among us, he is still very much with us, in his spirit and songs, which will remain with all who had the good fortune of knowing him. And to borrow a line from an old classic -- to know know know him, is to love love love him and we do...

"Shades of Blue"                           compiled by Jackson Gillman

I have been given the welcome task of collecting testimonials about our Magic Penny recipient, the indefatigable Bob Blue.   In my case, I can add that he is also a very dear friend, and I suspect that goes for anyone who has the privilege of being in Bob's circle.   It is an awesome circle, one with far-reaching ripples to many who have been taught by him, entertained by him, or just been touched by his astute writing and teaching.   Bob probably has more admiring friends than any person I know, and deservedly so.  

            First a little background. Bob taught 2 nd and 3 rd grade for over 20 years.   When his MS advanced to the stage of prohibiting his full-time employment, Bob "retired".   Hah!   Retirement for him gave him the opportunity to adopt a first grade class and be a half-day volunteer in their classroom serving as teaching assistant, tutor, and all-round Guy Friday, or make that Monday-Friday.   He then moved up with that same class through middle school (and would have followed them through high school had the school permitted it). Bob describes this teaching opportunity as teacher heaven -- having the luxury of seeing where he is most needed, developing one-on-one relationships with the students, and without any administrative responsibilities!   With his daily classroom love done, he goes home and writes more essays about his observations on students, teachers, parents and his Blue-eyed views on life in general.   If his previously syndicated columns continued to run weekly, he would have enough backlogged now (1200+) for a fifth generation of readers.   All the while, despite limitations of one-finger keyboarding, he continues to crank out musicals and songs, often in prolific bursts of creative energy.  

            Bob is a founding member of Children's Music Network and one of the key proponents of its egalitarian roots, as CMN has little truck with star-making machinery.   Bob's quiet brilliance however, shines brightly on us all.   Perhaps because of his "insider" status, it has taken us a while to point the spotlight on him, but no one could possibly deny that he is our own super-nova.   For those that know Bob well, they know that I'm not off-the-mark in describing him as being endearingly immodest.   Bob knows he's great.   But one of the things that makes him so great, is that he views others similarly, and does all he can to bring their talents to the fore.

            Let me start with my own introduction to Bob.   Twenty-some years ago, I attended the New England Folk Festival, having never performed there yet myself.   I had heard about Bob, went to his session and introduced myself beforehand.   Bob had heard of me too, and although he had never seen me perform, asked if I'd do a song during his set.   Gladly done, as it was the following year, and the next.   I thought -- what a great guy to share his slot with me and introduce me to the festival community.  

Years later when I related our meeting and how generous he'd been to me, he revealed -- that one of the reasons he asked me to perform was because he lacked the energy to do a whole set, and it helped for me do something in the middle!   Well, if I hadn't known Bob well enough by then, I might have felt slighted and used, but instead his unabashed honesty prompted a great shared laugh.   I do know that Bob is one of the most generous people you could ever know.   By the way, since I have become a regular performer at the festival and done sessions called "Jackson Sings the (Bob) Blues", I have invited him to do the guest slot just because...well you know...(he has the energy to, and I love him!) .

Now, for other folks' testimonials...

An observation made by Terri Roben , that could almost serve as a caption for the cover photo of Bob on his scooter with a young Ruby Hoose (7 years old at the time?):

At a gathering years ago, I observed some children being ignored and bored as result. Bob picked up on this amidst a crowd of adults who didn't seem to notice.   He went over to them, introduced himself, and proceeded to give them rides on his lap in his wheelchair.   I never forgot that and have always tried to keep children in mind when I see they are being overlooked at adult gatherings .

Speaking of Hoose's, when Ruby's sister Hannah Hoose was displaying a precocious talent on the keyboards, Bob gave her his electric keyboard.   The one condition he requested of her was that when she felt she'd outgrown it, to pass it on to someone else in turn...  

His generosity can also reveal itself in subtler ways as Ann Morse describes:

Having known Bob for 37 years, I know that he has the power to make dreams come true. One day, quite a few years ago, I casually mentioned to him that I just had an unusual dream in which a purple spotted ocelot was perched in a tree outside my window.   As usual, he listened attentively and our conversation easily drifted from one topic to the next.   At the time, Bob was in the process of writing a musical based on Alice in Wonderland at an elementary school in Wellesley where he taught. One day, I dropped in on a rehearsal, and was quite astounded at what I found. I walked in just as the dodo bird was lamenting his extinction to an unsympathetic creature, ~a purple spotted ocelot~ to be precise (a character never previously associated with Alice in Wonderland ).   The purple spotted ocelot was saying, "Dodo, you think you have it bad because you're extinct.   Well, at least you once lived. I, on the other hand, never even existed!~   I can attest that Bob's fertile imagination and ability to generously weave his friends? ideas into his clever songs, plays, or essays, honors our thoughts and empowers us by permitting us to see the purple spotted ocelots of our dreams.

Joanne Hammil : When I first moved to Boston, in 1980, I went to a folk venue to check out 'the scene'.   The featured performer was Betsy Rose and she opened her set with "Erica Levine".   I was blown away by the great song -- the quirky, delightful way the story was told, the wisdom and humor throughout, and the way the words not only scanned perfectly but were exactly the right amount to tell the essence of this modern ballad.   When she said she thought it was written by a local teacher, named Bob Blue, I thought: "Wow, I wonder if this teacher/writer is someone I could hear directly someday!". If I had known then that Bob and I would become great friends and colleagues, sharing many years together of joy, mutual inspiration, monthly Boston Songwriters meetings, dinners, talks, ideas, concerts, CMN Board meetings, and help to each other in everything from moving our homes to moving our hearts, I surely would have thought my fortunes could not be greater.   Now I KNOW that.   Bob -- his music, his thinking, and his friendship -- has enriched my life and my fortunes beyond measure.

Kathy Lowe : I give a grand thanks to Bob Blue for being able to write about simple profound things in the world, and to do it in a way that helps us learn.   A memorable time for me was when I couldn't stop crying every time I heard Bob's song,   "Courage."   It became an anthem of peace in the world for me.   I began playing it for friends and weeping with them. There was one friend who, after hearing the song, looked at me through her tears and said her daughter was having this same issue at school with a girl named Diane.   The next time I saw my friend she told me that she played piano while her daughter sang that song at a school concert.   We shared tears again.   Another place where this song became known, was at my son's middle school Holocaust week.   I gave the song to the organizer of the week's events and she printed the words on the cover of the program.   When messages are important and real, they travel far and wide very quickly.   Bob Blue has this ability of bringing people together to learn important things through song. Thank you Bob Blue for blessing the children of the world with your wisdom.

Dave Kinnoin :   Bob did an enormous kindness unto me about eight years ago when my son Oliver was a toddler.   We were at a National Gathering, and I had to leave Oliver with others and stay in bed during dinner because I had an awful headache.   I felt like throwing up.   I was in agony.   Bob came in and stroked my head and asked me what was going on.   I told him my father had died a few years before and that I regretted something I had done.   My dad, a big, strong, World War ll Army Air Corps vet was 76 and had been through a lot with about a dozen operations and told me he didn't want to have any more.   His knee joint was shot, and he couldn't walk.   A joint replacement operation could get him back up and active.   But my dad said that "being in a wheelchair wouldn't be so bad."    Keep in mind that my dad adored me, and I him.   He looked to me sometimes for approval. Instead of stopping to consider what my beloved father really wanted, I began a long pep talk: "...C'mon, Dad, you can do this!.   We'll be out there on the golf course again like the good 'ol days, blah, blah, blah..."    My dad had the operation, and he got some weird dementia and declined steadily.   He asked me to be the executor of his living will and not allow any further medical intervention other than the alleviation of pain.   I agreed.   His bowel burst, and he died a few days later.   Bob listened as I poured out my heart. I cried.   Bob said something like, "sounds like you loved your dad and tried to do what you thought was best.   Maybe it's time to forgive yourself."   I'm not sure exactly what he said, but he held me and listened to me and loved me, and my headache went away.   Completely away.   It has not returned.

Sol Weber : What would this world be like if Bob hadn't come along?   All those clever, funny songs, and the powerful ones as well.   His thoughtful essays, and his warmth and wisdom.   No, it wouldn't be the same world.   Each of us has a short list of those who really made a difference.   Bob is on MY list for sure.

Amy Conley :   Bob's song's PIGS! was so funny I laughed until I cried!   Not many songs like that come along!

Linda & Bruce Pollack-Johnson :

We first heard of Bob while living in England in the late '80's.   We frequented any pub featuring music from the Red and Green Umbrella Show - a loose organization of progressive musicians very much like the People's Music Network.   One of those British musicians, who shall remain nameless, did a wonderful rendition of "I did it their way!" Bob's parody of "I did it my way!".   I remember spending the next few months following this particular performer to each of his shows in order to copy down all of Bob's clever words.   The performer, on the other hand, was very guarded and protective of the song, wanting to keep it all to himself until he could record it.   Indeed, whenever he saw me writing, he would sing it faster.   I feared we would never be able to track down the whole song, or contact the Bob Blue who had written it.

We finally moved back to the States and had the opportunity to meet Bob through the People's Music Network.   What a kind, clever, funny, unassuming and generous man!   What a contrast to the man we heard who had been "covering" Bob's song!

Bob deserves not 15 minutes of fame, but 15 decades...no...5 centuries! Through his work, countless hardworking yet formerly unrecognized souls (including Kanga of Pooh Corner) have been affirmed and applauded.   Thank you Bob, from the bottom of our heart!

Scott Kepnes : When I listen or sing Bobs songs it helps me to remember that all that mundane daily grind "stuff" is not all that important and the lessons coming from my heart are. Getting to know Bob and being friends the past 10 years has inspired my own teaching with children and helped me to focus on helping children to know how important they are.

Susan Keniston , who co-edited PIO! with Bob for many years, reminded me of a quip he made in an interview, when asked to reveal something that readers might not already know about him.   He thought for a moment and replied, "A little known fact is that I'm famous."   Susan also appreciates the fact that despite his life and health trials, Bob has always considered himself a very lucky man.   Both these anecdotes are quintessential Blue.  

Finally, if one's work can speak for itself, Pete Seeger's quote at the conclusion of "What Matters", the international award-winning documentary video of Bob's music and teaching, wraps it up perfectly:   "Maybe the best thing is, just let a lot of people hear more of his songs."

Amen.

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There came a time when he announced he was getting a cat. Alas, I have a bad allergy to cat dander, although I love cats and they always take to me. I told him I would not be able to come with a cat in the house. He responded typically with something like, "That's fine. I'll have a cat!, and made sure to remind me as I was leaving that I couldn't come back. (This order was worthy of the would-be tyrannical king in The Little Prince.) Cats or no cats, I most deeply regret that I did not continue to visit Bob at home. I love him and miss him very much, and hope that somewhere up there he forgives me. (And now I can hear him saying in outrage, "Whaddya mean up there? I'm down here!" Wherever your are, Bob, there will be crowds of people around listening and enjoying you, while we remember you by listening to your recordings and singing your songs. Ah, but it isn't the same without you here in person. No one could possibly take your place.

Love, Joelle Adlerblum

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I was one of Bob's students for 2nd and 3rd grade at Hunnewell School in Wellesley, and a friend and classmate of Lara's. just after I visited him with my parents, Susan and Ed Hand, on Thursday, March 2nd, I began to write and illustrated a small book to give to Bob . Unfortunately, I didn't finish illustrating it until the day I heard that Bob had died. I have written to Lara and will send the book to her, but I thought I might send it as a contribution to the remembrances of Bob on his website. (click to Read Lindsley's 8 page book)

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I will never forget Bob Blue, his musical ability and the impact he had on children. I worked with Bob in an elementary school in Wellesley, MA in the early 90's. Bob had offered to include, full-time, a child with significant disabilities including some behavioral difficulties, into his classroom. The school system had hired me as an inclusion consultant to help with the inclusion. He was fully supportive of this endeavor.
There was a piano in the classroom. At least twice a day, Bob would sit at the piano with the children around him and everyone would sing.
I remember his kindness, gentleness and humor. I still have two of his tapes and remember one song in particular about a girl named Rachel. I have a "Rachel".
He was a wonderful man.

Pat Pakos

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I met Bob Blue in 1981. He was my second-grade teacher. I remember him and his class more clearly than anything about my education before graduate school.
Once during a particularly noisy day, he cast four students in an extempore skit. As an audience member, this is the playlet I watched:
Mr. Blue: Ali, would you go and close that door?
Ali: Why doesn't Shawnte have to do it?
Mr. Blue: Shawnte, would you go and close that door?
Shawnte: Why doesn't Mohammed have to do it?
Mr. Blue: Mohammed, would you go and close that door?
Mohammed: Why doesn't Ali have to do it?
Mr. Blue: Ali, would you go and close that door?
[repeated until entire class was laughing too hard to speak]
Another time, after handing in a spelling quiz, I asked him what I should do next, and he said "Why don't you turn into a gopher." So I spent the next hour making a gopher mask.
One week he decided the whole class should do nothing but learn about Zimbabwe together.
Despite the lyrical warning in Mr. Blue's song "Their Way," I am now a college professor. I am very lucky that the memory of Mr. Blue's pedagogical genius still lives in me.

Sarah Manguso

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He was just another man who had died in a world where men died every day and few received much notice. Yes, there was the post in the local newspaper and many friends and family had recalled how truly special this man was. But we are all taught to speak well of the dead.
Yes, this man had battled with multiple sclerosis, which had finally triumphed, as its insidious progression predicts. But many men lose their life in their late 50's and it is sad, but hardly a national story. Yet, for some reason I found myself drawn to this story of this man.

This man had been a teacher for 20 years, until his disease forced him to retire in his mid 40's
On the first day of his retirement, he looked out the window and thought to himself, "Great, I don't have to teach today." And that thought ate away inside him because he realized that teaching was all he had ever wanted to do. And it had been taken away from him through no fault of his own.

So he did something about it. He volunteered to work for kids for free at an elementary school in the new town he had moved to after his forced retirement. Each day, he would battle his increasing symptoms and work with the first graders who he had chosen to tutor, assist and nurture, as he had done for the past 20 years.

The following year, he did it again. This time he graduated with his first graders and remained with them as they went through the rigors of second grade. Each year he would return to school and resume studies with this class. He told them as long as they were going to school, he would advance right along with them.

Who has ever heard of a commitment like that? For a man receiving no compensation for his efforts, but the satisfaction of being a force in a child's life? For a man who realizes that he is losing the fight with a nervous system disease that plays Russian roulette with one's body, taking away one skill at a time, until you are left with a body and mind and little else?

And I thought about this man who was inspired by the writing of Jonathan Kozol who has dedicated his life to writing about the uneven playing field in public education and I wondered why I wasn't seeing him on CNN, FOX and MSNBC. Was it because he couldn't cry like Tammy Faye and tell his story through smeared mascara? Was it because his child was not missing or murdered and was now an expert on telling other parents how to protect their own children. Was it because he was not a famous defense lawyer who took high profile cases and was considered brilliant even if he never seemed to win any of his cases? Perhaps it was because he wasn't a singer from a country singing family who had a more cosmetically pleasing disease and appeared regularly to update the world on her condition.

Why wasn't this man being talked about on TV for his remarkable mission in life?
And then reading more about this man I realized what he would have probably said about all the meaningless topics that float across our TV screen each and every night.
That wasn't his purpose in life. His purpose and his passion was simply to teach.

And teach he did. Can one imagine giving 20 years in the classroom for ridiculously low wages and then signing up for more? At no salary. All the time slowly succumbing to a disease that was killing him day by day.

This is truly a remarkable man.

How many of us have spent even one day in a classroom or library reading to a group of kids or even spending one hour of their life inspiring even one child to make a difference with their life.
To discover the purpose and the passion in their lives. As this man did with his life.

Goethe wrote about such a man. "A teacher who can arouse a feeling for one single good action , for one single good poem, accomplishes more than who fills our memory with rows and rows of natural objects, classified with name and form." This man was the man Goethe was writing about.
This man was a teacher.

Steve Tarde

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"And the only measure of your words and your deeds/
Will be the love you leave behind when you're done."---Fred Small

No truer words were ever spoken. Dear Bob, you've been gone two weeks today and yet you are very much here. In the outpouring of love and remembrances, in the many lives you touched in such profound ways. I will always remember you sitting at the player piano in the caferteria at NEFFA a quarter century ago, gleefully pretending it was your fingers on the keys; rolling joyfully down the bike trail on your scooter with my son Jeremy, then seven, riding shotgun; and sitting mid-auditorium on that same scooter, beaming, May 10, 1997, as hundreds gathered to celebrate your life and music while you were still here to hear us and say "you're welcome."
I was in the front row that night. When I think of the people who have inspired me as I sing, teach and perform for children, you will always be in MY front row.
With love and admiration,
Nancy J. Hershatter

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I knew Bob for a very short time before he died. At my first PMN gathering in Queens in January 2005, I first saw him and was awed by the depth of love that everyone expressed for him. Barbara Dean's account of Bob dancing in his wheelchair during the Sunday morning "songs of the spirit" perfectly reflects my memory as well. The other thing I remember was that he had started a samba line in the cafeteria that everyone took part in. I was totally new to the group and didn't even know that Bob lived in the same town as me, Amherst. By PMN 2006, which took place across the street from me at Amherst College, I learned more about who Bob was. I found out that he hosted folk music performances in his living room. So my musical comrade, Dan Inglis, and I offered to play at his house. We arranged the event over email, and Bob suggested we play on March 11. We did, and it was wonderful. I'll always remember looking up during our rendition of Gordon Bok's "Turning Toward the Morning" to see Bob Blue singing along with every single word. The song is a friendship letter to someone going through tough times. It says that in the morning there is hope for a better tomorrow. Afterwards, Dan and I talked with Bob and his PCA, Laura, and Bob shared wisdom with us through his gentle and fragile voice: "By accepting a compliment from someone, you are recognizing her or his good taste." Not yet knowing that Bob had died just one day before, on March 18 I sent him this email -- one week after we played at his home.

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Bob,

I had such a great time playing with Dan at your house last week. It was also a great pleasure to talk with you afterwards. I was wondering if you like having visitors and what time of day is best. I'd like to come to your house, play you a few songs and chat a bit again. It would be really fun for me because with my work schedule, although it is flexible, I haven't been trying very hard to get gigs at other venues. I need people to play in front of and you gave me such a sense of appreciation when we came to play at your house. I know that you understand the feeling that I have.

Tell me what your schedule is like and maybe I could come over sometime in the next week or so. I live so close to you.

I hope you are well, companero.

Eros and Revolution,

Ben Grosscup
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I feel sad that I hadn't begun this correspondence with Bob years earlier, but thinking about what Bob would have said, I realize that the fact that I got to be with him for the time that I was able to is the really great thing.

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Bob was my friend, my good Scrabble buddy, and basically a rock in my life. He was first a friend and employer of my friend Laura Anderson, who become his last live-in personal care assistant, but we became friends separately from the fact that we both knew and loved Laura.

At first, we just played Scrabble every Friday and talked not much, but gradually we begin to have good conversations and share resources. He introduced me to new equipment and lent me his van on more than one occasion. We joked about him leaving me his Easy Pivot Lift if he died. I told him to stop being morbid. I never thought it would happen so soon, but I decided to take his lift because that's what he would've wanted me to do. I imagine that he would cause a rain cloud to follow me around if I didn't.

I was glad I could help to learn to live his best life as a disabled person, which was hard for him after living as an able-bodied person for most of his life. It was good for me to have a friend who could explain the inner workings of the able-bodied mind to me, which I didn't, and still don't, really understand.

When I got sick this fall, Bob was very important in my recovery. He talked to me and listened when I cried on the phone (how I hated that hospital). When I returned to Western Massachusetts, I was shocked to discover how much worse Bob seemed, less able to talk and even put down letters on a Scrabble board. But I knew that MS waxed and waned and thought that he'd get better, as he usually did.

Bob got me involved in the People's Music Network (PMN) and asked me to help with planning the access when PMN came to Amherst for this year's Winter Gathering. I am so glad to have found that group. I love to sing really, but only at rallies, marches, conferences, and churches because of my slight speech impairment. I feel like PMN gave me my voice back and I will always be grateful to Bob for that. I'll keep going to PMN as well. My friend Johnny Crescendo, a Philadelphia-based disability rights musician, will play at the PMN '07 Winter Gathering in Philly. Bob would've loved that, he liked Johnny's music although they never knew each other personally.

I'll miss Bob always. I'll be sorry for the projects that we never completed- collaborating on a musical, hosting my first ever dance concert in his house. He will never join me at a national ADAPT action, an experience we both wanted to share together. He'll miss his latest CD release party, a posthumous new song release.

I hope Bob is enjoying Heaven (where I believe he is) because I believe that good people of all faiths go there in the afterlife. I imagine he's eating lots of Indian food and chocolate, two foods I know he missed since he stopped being able to eat by mouth. Rest in peace my friend; I wish you could've played for many more years.

Martina Robinson

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Reading these remembrances again and again has been so healing; it’s time I add my own. I’m youngest of the Blue siblings, and Bob’s only sister. I say “am” and not “was” because Bob will always be alive in my memory and his spirit will always be with me

Bob and I were born 7 years apart, and my earliest memories of him are from when I was about 7 years old. I remember eating breakfast with him before we went off to school each morning. We sat at the breakfast table at Bluebird Lane as I watched him consume bowl after bowl (after bowl) of breakfast cereal and milk. I never knew how ANYONE could eat as much cereal in one sitting!?

I’ve come to believe that Bob had an ulterior motive in consuming all that cereal! He had a plan! Bob saw that I was not as musically talented as he, but I think he wanted to teach me a special talent I could proudly (playfully?) embrace as my own, and share with him. And I’m happy (ok, and sometimes a little embarrassed) to say that I have, and have, in turn, happily shared that talent with my 10- and 13-year olds sons and one of their dear friends (all of whom thankfully have more of Bob’s musical talent to guide them through times when this otherwise unique talent won’t cut it!!)

Bob taught me to do a family of belches!!! All the way from the grandpa belch on down to the baby belch. He made sure to teach me intonation and volume so I could get the best possible combination of belches. His years of vocal training with Mrs. Foose (sp?) likely gave him an insider edge on proper mouth formation to get more bang (belch?) for the buck! : ) I smile at the memory and the silliness of this talent Bob gladly shared!

My fond and special childhood memories of Bob have included visions of the square dances he held for friends on the patio facing the pond. And oh all those wonderful high school musicals he was in. That was my brother Bob up there on the stage!

Family vacations and road trips were always such musical adventures!

I’ve had the less desirable experience of sharing with Bob the diagnosis of MS, but he has always been a wonderful coping model and has helped me learn focus on thriving as a person who happens to have MS rather than thinking of myself simply as an “MSer”.

Bob received his confirmed diagnosis of MS the same year I received mine. If we both had to have MS, I so wish he had had my kind (relapsing remitting). Bob’s spirit has certainly contributed to my ability to cope with the on again, off again symptoms, and with the ever uncertain reality that some day I could have his kind (progressive). But if I ever do, what a regal model he has provided of how to live with the reality of the disease and not let it become me.

As sad, so very sad that I am that he has passed on, I feel that Bob has left me/us with a legacy of focusing on hope and possibility.

Bob’s musical talents have helped me so in my work as a psychologist. I have used so much of his music in psychotherapy sessions with clients, and was so tickled when he wrote Family Album upon my request for a song to use in family therapy sessions. He made it look so easy! Doesn’t he always!!!???

Bob recently e-mailed me that he wanted to spend some time being a better uncle to my children. He was planning to take 10-year old Josh to play miniature golf if he could make it here for Mom’s birthday later this month, and was planning to take 13-year old Jordan to a Yankee game this summer. Bob didn’t need to do either, but how “Bob” that he planned to try! And he’s inspired me to be sure to be a better aunt!

I was so pleased to have Bob visit our neck of the woods recently, and to have him join us for a service at UUCB that Sunday. Some people in the congregation seemed to already know of him, and so many have warmly expressed their condolences

What a warm and gentle touch he has left with so many of us!

May we all continue to embrace, cherish and promote the wonderful model and talents of our dear Bob! We’ll always love you Bob!

Sue Blue

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My part in the Bob Blue saga was somewhat unique and definitely karmic. I joined PMN relatively recently (approximately 12 yrs. ago). I met Bob then, but it was approx. 6 yrs. ago where fate stepped in. I've had a friend for many years named Tanya Blue! I hadn't put two and two together until one day a discussion of Bob came up and Tanya told me that she was his niece (daughter of Howard Blue, Bob's brother). Tanya then came to the summer gathering of PMN. I felt like I was "reintroducing" her to her own uncle for they had'nt seen each other in a long time. I saw Bob's face light up with that incredibly contagious smile and I watched Tanya smile and give him a hug and I knew that I was a link to something very special. Bob and I were never the same to each other after that moment. A bond seemed to have been established between us which was unspoken and very personal. I loved Bob as we all did and admired his joy and courage as well as his talent, but I thank fate for our unique connection. Bob is a major spirit that will always be alive inside me.

Carl Schwartz

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I sang "Benny Miller" for a housemate of mine a few years back. He was taken by the simplicity and poignancy of the song. He asked me who wrote it. I told him about Bob and said "you have to hear this tape--"starting small"". We put it it on, listened to about 5 or 6 songs in silence and were both brought to tears (me for the 20th time or so). My housemate said "I want to meet him" and I said "he lives down the road in Amherst, give him a call", and he did. He and Bob talked for some time. I have since lost touch with that housemate, but I do know that they kept in touch.

I barely knew Bob on a personal level but to put it simply, he is my hero, because of his sense of emotion for every generation. Although my interactions with him over the years have been brief and somewhat impersonal, my understanding of him as a human being and a songwriter always made me strive to be a better human being. He could move mountains with his words. He could capture the spirit of a social movement without being dogmatic or judgmental. You do not have to agree with his politics to be moved by his political songs. "Starting Small" is the only work that has ever brought me to tears. We should ALL strive to hold a piece of Bob forever.

Love,
Peter Siegel

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I first met Bob during New Student Days at Beloit in 1966 – forty years ago this coming fall. He was all smiles, stuck out his hand and said “Hi, I’m Bob Blue,” as he must have done to every member of the class of ’70. For a time he and one of my good friends dated, and so he and Susan, and Randy and I, and (the list is way too long) hung out together. He introduced me to Randy (now my husband) the first time (it didn’t take) with the words “he’s going to be President some day,” but that didn’t happen either (good thing).

I will always remember his smile, his love of music, his love of life. It was very good to see him about 10 years ago, when in spite of his MS he could still travel, and he came to Beloit for Homecoming. It was the last time. He couldn’t make it to our reunion in 1994, but had hoped to come in the future. I admired his positive outlook in the face of enormous odds against that.

Anita B. Williams, Beloit College 1970

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At the start of my senior year of nursing school, I had decided that my night job was no longer going to work with my upcoming hectic school schedule.   During the few days I was trying to decide what to do, the answer came to me...literally!   I received an email from the School of Nursing stating there was a job opportunity caring for a gentleman with multiple sclerosis.   I decided to go for it and I can honestly say that my decision was the doorway to one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.

I remained employed for Bob from the start of my senior year right up until I moved to North Carolina after college graduation to start my endeavor as a registered nurse.   Some of the things I remember most about Bob are his sense of humor, ability to take things in stride, and his dedication to other people...especially children.  

Some of my fondest memories with Bob include getting myself BADLY beaten at Scrabble.   I mean, how many people in one game can get an extra 50 points MULTIPLE TIMES for using all seven tiles in a word?!   Bob, of course.  

He was (and still is) a master of words and a master of being able to love people.   I remember him having a backpack that remained attached to the back of his wheelchair.   He would ask some of his PCA's to stick in a few copies of his tape "Starting Small" so he could hand them out in case he "needed to" when he was out in the public.   I remember one time he and I took a trip to the library where Bob noticed a little girl with her mother.   Bob asked to me to go over and give them a tape.    I did so and told them it was from Bob.   Shortly thereafter, they came over and wholeheartedly thanked him.   People always appreciated his generosity and kindness--and still do!   After the woman left, Bob resumed his initial mission of looking for a Mark Twain book to borrow.

In addition to assisting him with some of his hygiene and health needs, us PCA's were responsible for assisting with his entertainment needs.   I remember one time he was on a Mel Brooks movie kick.   He had sent me out with a list of five specific movies to get and when I returned a movie marathon began!   We'd laugh and giggle all the way through and, on occasion, Bob would give his knee a slap if he particularly enjoyed the scene.   He loved humor and loved laughing.   Another time, we went to the movie theater and I ended up crying a few times during the movie due to its sad and touching nature.   I had later confessed to Bob that my eyes had welled with tears, to which he smiled at me and said, "Mine did, too!"  

Although his physical capabilities continued to deteriorate, he remained upbeat much of the time.   Sometimes he would ask to be lifted from his wheelchair in his special transfer device and be tilted so his back was up against the wall.   During the process, I asked if his back hurt or what the reason was behind his desire.   He told me, "It reminds me of what it feels like to stand and lean up against a wall.   Sometimes I forget."   He missed things he was no longer able to do, however just about every morning when both of us were starting our day, we would do our usual greetings and he would say that he had to get up because, "I have a lot of work to do!"   And he sure did.   He was always writing music, essays, and/or emails.   He gave all of us PCAs a copy of his book "The Little Engine That Couldn't," which I felt gave us great insight into Bob's feelings during the progression of his disease.   Also, I encourage you to read one of his previous essays that consisted of letters his "right hand" and "left hand" wrote to each other regarding the inability to use one of them due to multiple sclerosis.   (Read them if you get an opportunity to.)

I could go on and on about Bob and all of the wonderful memories I have and the wonderful things he did for others, however the latter is well represented by what everyone has written in their remembrances.   Bob was always offering encouragement to his friends and to me.   After I had moved to North Carolina, I emailed Bob stating I was waiting for my state board results to know if I was a nurse or not.   I confided in him that I was afraid I might not have passed because it was taking forever to get the results.   Bob emailed me back saying, "Dear Kate, RN:   Of course you passed!   They just haven't told you yet!"   It helped bring a smile to my face.   Once the results were in and I had passed, I emailed Bob to let him know to which he responded with, "I knew you would!"

Thank you for all of the encouragements during the time I have known you, Bob.    As you already know, you're greatly missed but your spirit lives on and you'll not be forgotten.   We all love you.

Kate Fuller 

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WHAT A TREAT TO KNOW BOB BLUE

What a treat it was to know Bob Blue
His twinkling eyes and clever turns of phrase
His warm humility and insight into human ways
Each day, I try to be like him, I do.

I remember one time sitting on his bed
Laughing at some silly song I wrote
He tried to speak, but then wrote me a note
Cause he knew I wouldn't understand the words he said

When we were young, we'd sit and share our songs
"Bob!" I'd say "You've got to get your music out!
It helps so many hearts to heal, without a doubt!"
I know, 'cause when I sing them, they help me along!"

He taught me by example with his writing
His rhyme schemes seldom were “A-B, A-B”
He'd do “A-B-B-A” rhyming, and I'd see
That unique patterns prove much more exciting

And I love the way his kid songs teach us lessons
He writes a slice of life through eyes of youth
Then, “Bang!”, the third verse holds a universal truth
And we’re moved to end all childhood oppressions

So we get older and things change, it's true
And even though I'm sad, one thing is clear,
The world's a better place 'cause he was here.
It was a blessing and a treat to know Bob Blue.


Peter Alsop
04/2006

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I hardly knew Bob. I met him at a CMN meeting annual meeting several years ago. I only talked with him briefly to say hello. I didn’t know anything about his music But…he wasn’t able to speak at the time and at the round robin Jackson Gillman stood with him and sang “incy wincy spider” for him. I couldn’t get that image out of my mind… Bob smiling, Jackson singing and the words, the words.

It was a hard season in my life that year and I held on to that image and that song. I would say to myself ‘ if Bob can smile when he can’t sing, I can smile’

I once emailed him to tell him how he and his song helped get me thru.

After that I bought his cd’s and his music book and fell in love with all his music. I sing it where ever I can. His songs bless every one who hears them.

With thanksgiving,

Anne-Louise Sterry

Ps I wish I could come to his service but living in Oregon makes it impossible

Anne-Louise Sterry

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I Like Trees —Homage to Bob Blue

I like trees
There’s none so nice as trees.
They like— dirt.
They embrace —dirt.
I think they just adore —dirt.

Sky likes trees.
There’s none likes trees as sky.
They breathe —air.
And we breathe —air.
I think they just embrace —air.

Sidewalks are nice.
They’re almost nice as dirt.
They walk —folks
They keep dry —folks
I think they just protect —folks.

But I like trees
There’s none so nice as trees.
They like— dirt.
They embrace —dirt.
I think they just adore —dirt.


And Sky likes trees.
There’s none likes trees as sky.
They breathe —air.
And we breathe —air.
I think we just embrace —trees.
--
Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds you plant.
--Robert Louis Stevenson

Robin MacRostie

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It's been 40 years since I saw or communicated with Bob. It was highschool. Then early this past March he contacted me by email (probably found me on Classmates.com). I was so happy to hear from him, but did not know his health situation, and due to work obligations did not get back to him for a week. I wish he had written to me earlier or that I had responded more quickly, for I missed telling him how much he did for me in highschool. His question to me in his email was, "Am I still in politics?" I told him "No, without him behind me, there's no way I'd even try." Then I told him, having gone to his website, what a wonderful contribution he has made to the world. Here is the context of his email question to me and what I would have said to him if we had been given the gift of time to correspond. Tears arise realizing I was not given the opportunity to tell him....

I went to highschool with Bob. He wasn't a best friend, or even a friend, because I was always trying to be cool and, as his brother points out and Bob himself says in an interview, he was not one of the cool or popular kids at Walt Whitman High School...and my target was the "cool" kids. Fortunately, though I didn't have the intelligence Bob did, I was smart enough to be in a couple of his classes and I fell in love with his kindness to me and, secretly, with him. When we had school officer elections in 1965, he and a few of his friends decided they were tired of the same kids "running" the school. They, led by Bob, decided they needed to find a new face who wasn't part of the "in crowd" but who was close enough to perhaps win in an election. They chose me.

Bob convinced me I could be "the one" -- and would not accept no for an answer -- and he took it from there, managing my campaign. I was way too shy and uncertain to do the glad-handing that needed to be done, but I could give a good speech and I was friendly to everyone (the need of acceptance held sway). Still, it was his persistance, humor, and belief in me, that ultimately won the election for me. It made me feel very good, it helped bring me out of my shell, and most important it gave me my first taste of real confidence in myself. Lo and behold, it began to occur to me that I was just fine the way I was. Bob was a pivotal person in my life because he believed in me. I wish I had been able to tell him that.

Bob wrote in my yearbook "I am proud to have originated a movement to take one of the sweetest girls in the class and turn her into a GO secretary." Forty years later, I write back to Bob in heaven -- "I am so thankful to have had you in my life at such a formative time. We may both have felt uncool but it ain't true. It ain't true. You, for sure, are one of the coolest people I've ever met."

Barbara Cowley-Durst

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I wanted to let my nieces know how sad I was to hear of their Dad's passing and how much he meant to me. He became my brother-in-law when I was 13 years old and I loved him dearly. I remember bragging to my friends how talented he was. He could play any song you could name and he made our old upright piano play things I am sure it had never played before. I remember an always present instrument, be it a guitar, banjo or even the kids steel drums. He and my sister tolerated me through my teenage years. He allowed me to help in his second grade class when he first started teaching in elementary school and I was in 9th grade. He taught me a lot about teaching children. They both put up with me staying at their home, sleeping on their floor and just showing up to visit.
I am proud to say that he was part of my family and that his two talented and lovely daughters are my nieces. One of my great sorrows is that my children never knew the giving, wonderful man their cousin's father was.
Bonnie Moretti
Montague, MA

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Chorus:

Tremors & phlegm, tremors & phlegm, there's naught that does daunt him save tremors & phlegm.

He's a nice Jewish boy 'til he breathes his last
Yet he's not seen in temple for feast or for fast.
While Blue is his surname, with the spirit he's got,
He tends to be happy more often than not.

There's many who love him for songs that he's sung,
Or rhymes he has written, kind deeds he has done.
He's messed with the classics, which he sometimes regrets,
Be he's blessed us with lyrics which we cannot forget.

He still finds there's something that he must say
Tho' the brandy air's comforts come harder these days|
It's a pain to depend on some damn PCA
But still he remembers there's more than one way.

Some people who know him think he is off key
Not all of them see what he'd like them to see
Still he writes up a rhyme or a song or a play
And refuses to give up and do it their way

Oft his words are profound, tho he throws in some fillers
To remind us to live   while we're still caterpillars
Small things that happen may bring questions on
But he somehow resolves them in the course of a song

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Bob….

A friend of the gentlest kind. A man with a rare combination of pride and humility. A wordsmith of exquisite delight and precision. A philosopher of refreshing and rare insights. A visionary who could create bridges between personal and political truths. A gifted teacher of children and adults. An inspiration to so many!

All true. And yet none of this totally captures the spirit and soul of this dear man whom I had the privilege to call friend, peer, coworker, pal. We swapped joys and woes, helped each other move physically and spiritually, admired and inspired each other, got annoyed and got through, gave each other gifts beyond counting, touched each other’s hearts; and always came to rest in a place of gratitude and love.

The MS took much from him, but not his beautiful nature or his brilliant and unique way of thinking about people. This tired old world got a big a jolt of hope, brilliance, and refreshing new perspectives throughout Bob Blue’s time here. And all of us who knew him or heard his thoughts and songs or were touched by someone who was touched by him are not only the better for it ourselves but, through our connection, will help the world continue to be charged by him forever.

Joanne Hammil

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During the years when Bob edited PASS IT On!, A Journal of Children’s Music, we
got to know each other. At the time, I was writing a column, The Rose and The Apple Tree, and he took exceptional interest in the topics about which I was writing, whether the subject was Danny Kay or Maria Von Trapp or Ruth Crawford Seeger. He waited with great anticipation for me to submit my articles, held up the presses to accommodate my schedule, and coached me along, always making me feel that he was willing to wait for what he viewed as a gripping sequel or sacred text. As an editor, Bob rarely made editorial changes, instead focusing his energies on believing in the writer. In fact, his intense ability to evoke deeply humane sensibilities in others was such, that I often felt a kinship with his students. The unremitting light of Bob’s caring couldn’t help but create a kind of hot house environment in which it would be impossible not to bloom or find some quirky unexpected way to reach towards light.

Since I was not exempt from wrestling with writer’s block, time management challenges, and other uncertainties, Bob’s belief and support mattered. I remember the writing of “The Legacy of Little Toot” as an especially close time for us. My partner and I were sailing across the Gulf of Maine into Penobscot Bay. Whenever I got to an island (in those pre-cell phone days), I’d call Bob and we’d talk about how the article was progressing. Storms and fog would roll in and out and Bob experienced our maritime adventure vicariously from his perch, for his life had already become more circumscribed and sedentary. In turn, I experienced him as a kind of lighthouse guiding me through rough patches.

That sense of Bob Blue, as one holding a strong and marvelous light from a rare vantage point returns to me whenever I listen to his music and experience the extraordinary gifts he has left for us, the living, and for those who will follow.

Lisa Garrison

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What can i say about Bob?

Well, i can start from the beginning, but that story is too long to tell.

Bob was a man with a kind and gentle heart.

If you ever needed to talk to someone, he was there, with open ears.

Unfortuantely, he lost his ablity to talk back.

Last winter, durning the holiday season, i was Christmas shopping at Linens and Things, and bumped into him. We chated for a few minutes, just catching up.

i should probably say this.

I am 18 years old, and I have known Bob since I was 6. That's 12 years.

My class at Fort River was the class he originally "adopted".

i still remember him coming into my 1st grade class room with his cane. That year, we learned compound words, and he had pointed out that my name is a compound word. Chris and Tina. Christina...It was our little thing.

When i found out he died in March i was devistated. March was a bad month, my family and I had just buried my grandfather (who knew Bob as well), and then to hear that Bob died, well, lets just say, i wasn't the happiest person that month.

I stumbled upon this website in search of lyrics to one of his songs "People Make Mistakes".

It's one of the few i somewhat remember him teaching me.

When i was in 5th grade, he gave me this tape. It's called Touch the Sky I believe and i don't remember who it's by.

One of the songs on the tape is Rachel...A song that, I just found out today, was written by Bob. i love that song.

I give my love to Bob's family and friends.

He is truly missed

Christina Aldrich
Fort River Class of 2000
Friend of Bob Blue

9/15/06

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