Bobby had a last name – but I never knew what it was. He was
just Bobby. He lived in a trailer on Bails Road half way up a hollow outside
Athens, Ohio. He lived alone. He wore a scraggly beard, his hair was long,
matted and unkempt and his clothes, old and raggedy. He drove a 1978 Cadillac
Coupe Deville, the Bobby-mobile, and kept it running with duct tape, junkyard
parts and his own skill as a mechanic - except for the muffler, which never
worked. He was sober.
Tuesday night, I attended a meeting, as I do most evenings,
wherein we discuss how we stay sober. God, temptation, defects of character,
and service to others are typical topics. I attend these meetings because I
want to, not because I have to, and I always seem to learn something new. Some meetings
are better than others, just like days. At this particular meeting we were
reading from a volume called The Big Book, if you’re a ‘friend of Bill’s’ you
know what I’m talking about. We read chapter 4, We Agnostics. On page 47 there
is a discussion of faith, that elusive quality necessary for living a
satisfying life. How do you get such a thing? How do you keep such a thing?
What is the nature of God? How is that nature manifested in day to day living?
These were some of the questions touched on in considering that particular
page. “Articles of faith” and one’s own concept of a Higher Power often appear
at odds. Religion, it seems, oftentimes gets in the way of one’s own concept of
a Higher Power.
When it came my turn to speak, I talked about Bobby; sober
for over a decade, he once told me that his Higher Power was a white plastic
tiger that sat on top of his TV set. “As long as that tiger doesn’t drink, I don’t
drink.” OK. Whatever you say, Bobby. It seemed to work, and who am I to question
anyone’s personal concept of a Higher Power. It’s called “a God of my
understanding” – and it was what Bobby understood.
Bobby never had much money, he lived on public assistance
due to his mental illness and incapacities. He often spent his days at The
Gathering Place, an old house converted into a kind of clubhouse for “God’s
other children”. He was very proud of the fact that he sat on its Board of
Directors. The facility is run by the county and funded, in large part, through
charitable donations.
Four months ago, Bobby died. He was diagnosed with cancer
some months earlier and had largely disappeared. “Seen Bobby?” No one seemed to
have an answer. The folks at The Gathering Place knew but, unless you are a
regular, news usually doesn’t get much further than the front door. Bobby was
hospitalized for a while. He was told there really wasn’t anything that could
be done. He said he wanted to go home – that his neighbors would look in on him
– that he’d rather be where he was comfortable.
I learned of his death in an offhand way, and heard that there
would be a memorial service at The Gathering Place. I went, along with another
member of the ‘recovery community’. Besides us, there were about 12-14 folks
gathered, regulars at the establishment. I asked if anyone was with him at the
end. No one knew for sure. The Director, Mary, spoke; a few people volunteered
stories. I spoke of the time we were leaving a meeting in a church basement,
walking through the kitchen. How’s that white tiger doing, Bobby? “Fine, just
fine.” He smiled. “Sometimes, we even talk.” On a stainless steel counter by
the door sat several bunches of bananas. “Boy, I sure like bananas” said Bobby.
I picked up a bunch, here, take these. You sure? Yup, I’m sure. I laid a few
dollars on the counter, and we left. He put the bananas on the seat next to
him, fired up the Bobby-mobile and rumbled out of the lot. It was about the
last time I saw him. I also spoke to the group of the white plastic tiger and
how much that concept meant to me. It was hard to explain and I wasn’t able to
speak in much detail, I had started to weep. Sap that I am. Later, I came to find that Bobby died alone in
his trailer. A neighbor, having come to check up, found him the morning after
his death.
Lying in bed Tuesday night, I thought about the
bananas. I thought about the Bobby-mobile. I thought about his Higher Power. And
I was comforted by the thought that he really didn’t die alone. Sitting on the
top of his TV, the white tiger watched over him.
