They say that "luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity," but in my case, luck was simply knowing Bob.
In the mid-70s, I was at a crossroads, watching my men’s clothing store struggle and wondering what came next. It was Bob, alongside my brother, who saw something in me that I hadn’t yet seen in myself. They convinced me to give car sales a shot at Herb Gordon Nissan. That one nudge from Bob didn't just give me a new job; it changed the entire trajectory of my life.
Bob was my sales manager then, but he quickly became so much more. Because of the foundation we built and the mentorship he provided, a "temporary" career change turned into a 36-year legacy where I eventually ran the dealership. I owe the professional life I retired from to Bob’s initial belief in me.
Beyond the Showroom Floor
Our friendship was forged in the trenches of the car business, but it was solidified on the golf course and the casino floor. We were a consistent team—mostly in our shared ability to lose. Whether we were commiserating over a "shanking" day on the links with a few cold brews or testing our "prowess" in Atlantic City, the result was usually the same: we rarely won, but we always had the best time losing.
From the stands of the Capital Center to the cheers at RFK Stadium, Bob was the person I wanted to share those moments with. He was a constant presence in the best years of my life.
The Final Chapter
Life has a way of pulling people in different directions, and for a time, we lost touch. But I feel incredibly fortunate that the road led us both to retirement in Delaware. Being able to renew our friendship, pick up our clubs again, and laugh about the same old things was a gift I’ll always cherish.
Bob was a mentor, a partner in crime, and a brother. He was the man who pointed me toward my future, and I am so grateful I got to walk so much of that path with him by my side.
Rest easy, Bob. I’ll keep practicing the swing, but I’ll save the cold ones for when I see you again.