The year was 1979 or 1980, I really can't be sure anymore. I had just moved back to Windsor after a year of running away from my problems. My 18-month marriage was over and my life was in shambles. I was broke, in debt, unemployed and feeling pretty ashamed of the mess I'd made of everything. Returning home and having to rely on my parents again at age 22 was my definition of Failure with a capital F.
Fortunately for me, I had a friend or two still living here. Kathy was my emotional rescue. She brought booze and food over to my lonely little bachelor apartment. She helped me get a job. She listened to all my tales of woe and did her damndest to convince me that things were going to be okay.
Most important of all, she invited me in to her full, fun, rich life.
One night, even though I had nothing to wear and no money, she loaned me a sweater and insisted on taking me to London Street, the newest happening downtown bar. There, I met her good friend Guy and his younger brother Bobby. They were both so good looking, so funny and such good dancers. I had such a blast that I actually completely forgot about all my troubles.
And so began a brief but magical time, when every night there was somewhere to go or something to do with a bunch of loving, caring people who believed I was smart, funny and beautiful. And when I was with them, I believed it too.
I adored Guy--as everyone who knew him did. But there was something special about Bobby. He'd obviously inherited the Bulley intelligence, ascerbic wit and good looks, but he seemed unaware of all that. There was a humility about him and an aura of empathy shone from within him. He could always be depended on for the ride home, for his jacket when it got cold, or to say "your money's no good here, Sweetheart".
As I said, this idyllic time did not last long. We lost Guy in 1987. I will never forget the call that came to my Toronto office from Kathy, telling me he was dying in hospital but didn't want anyone to see him, so not to come. By then, I had long lost track of Bobby and never saw him again.
Today, Bobby's obituary appears in the Windsor Star. It says he died "suddenly".
When I read that he'd been tending bar at the Riverside Sportsmen's Club, I try to recall if I actually had seen him the last time I was there--but that the years had rendered us both unrecognizable to each other.
Bobby was only in my life for a little while. But I know my memories of him will last for the rest of mine.
Godspeed and rest in peace to a true gentleman.
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