A Young Bobby and his wife Artelle
Twenty four years ago on Pearl Harbor Day, December 7th, my brother passed away from a self inflicted gun shot wound. I will always remember that day and the phone call from my brother Allen. It was such a shock. I tried to fly to Salt Lake City to see him before they pulled the plug on him, but it didn't work out. As I was waiting in the ticket line a friend let me know that he had passed away so Frank and I drove up to Salt Lake for the funeral the next day.
Bobby was a real character, but they say that funny people sometimes have sadness in them. The last time I saw him, I sensed that something was terribly wrong and said something like, "Don't you even think about doing something stupid like Chris did." Chris was our cousin and he and Bobby grew up together. After being in Vietnam, Chris was messed up, and he eventually committed suicide. I really didn't think my brother would do the same thing.
Bobby also was drafted into the Vietnam war, and when he was in training they would hand him a gun, and he would hand it right back. They finally gave up and made him a Medic, and that is how he became a nurse. He was allowed to get out of the service on a hardship discharge when my Mom passed away, and he took on the responsibility of raising my two brothers.
Bobby was so talented in many ways, he was a male nurse, a cartoon artist, a husband and a father. We had a messed up alcoholic mother and father and I am sure this contributed to his problems in life as it affected all of us kids in the family in one way or another. One of the memories of him is the story he told me of taking meds to all of his patients on roller skates. His patients loved this, but he got time off from work for this incident. He was always doing crazy things and making people laugh.
He drew cartoon characters of us and I have a file folder full of them. He made extra money at Christmas by doing Christmas cartoon type paintings on windows, homes and businesses.