I first encountered Papa back in the day when he and Mandy were transcontinental travelers
They used to traverse the country in a motor home that had exactly the same beige- and-brown color scheme as our home in Glendale, California.
And it fit perfectly along our hedgerow, looking like it had been designed to be parked there from the start. We could have shot Winnebago commercials right there in our driveway.
What a Godsend it was to have both of them in residence at our home for a couple of months each year. Bob was a handyman right down to the marrow, and he could wrangle a hammer and saw with the best of them. And he never met a level or a drill press he didn't like.
KD would start working on his list weeks in advance, and she kept adding to it during his stay.
"Anything I can do?" I'd inquire, meekly.
"You?" she'd fire back, nostrils flaring, clipboard in hand, pencil behind the ear. "You go work on the taxes."
I did get to put up and decorate the Christmas tree every year, though, because that was the one job that Bob refused to have anything to do with.
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Bob was into energy conservation long before it became front-page news. Way back in the late '80's he would delight in seeing how far he could coast in his little Honda Civic with the transmission in neutral and his foot off the gas.
"Made it all the way back here from the top of Ocean View Boulevard" he confided to me one morning. "That's over 3 miles!" he gushed, relishing the thought of the 2 cents he'd just saved in fuel expenses.
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Like his daughter, Bob had a real eye for a bargain.
And bargain breakfasts were practically his religion.
I'm sure more than one greasy spoon owner in Glendale shuddered regularly at his approach, knowing that both the bacon larder and the cash register would be emptied by the fistful of coupons Bob had in his hand.
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And then there was that mysteriously-long pinky fingernail.
I never got a clear answer from him as to what its purpose was, but I always imagined it was his "tool-of-last-resort", able to do things not even a top-of-the-line Swiss Army knife could accomplish.
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I don't think many people knew Bob as a funnyman, but one of the very funniest experiences OF MY ENTIRE LIFE took place the night we premiered all of the McCutcheon family home movies that had been recently transferred to videotape.
Mind you, this was footage that extended back into the 1950's. And it was entirely without sound, as all home movies were back then.
No matter -- Bob provided a running commentary that had us all in stitches.
"Oh look" he said, "there's Ernie. He's dead now."
And then: "And there's Ted and Ethel. They're dead too".
Followed by: "And there in the back, isn't that Ray and Florence? A nice couple. And you know what else? They're dead!"
And on and on it went, reel after reel, tape after tape. By the end of the marathon we were all sick with laughter. But Bob just sat there beaming, waiting for the next parade of the deceased to be spooled up.
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Well, Papa has now joined that long and distinguished line, as we all must someday. And he will be sorely missed.
But he leaves us with a legacy that every good man aspires to, a long and productive life filled with both the joys and the sorrows that are all a part of our existence. And a passel of children and grandchildren of whom he could be very proud, and who were very proud of him.
So happy trails, Papa. May your hereafter be filled with bargain breakfasts abounding in bacon, with long downhill roads free of stop-lights, and with endless useful household tasks for you to undertake.
And no Christmas trees.
I'll see you on the other side. I've got some videotapes I want to watch with you.
- Michael Shaughnessy
