Bob Shaw was Gini’s and my best friend.  He was her neighbor while she grew up and I started hanging around with him in Junior High.  We all graduated McKeesport in 1967.  He was one of my first believers as far as music went, he would listen as we played and I think he truly enjoyed it.  He died in 2002 from cancer but before he died he and his fine wife Carol recommitted their wedding vowels at their summer home on Indian Lake in Summerset County.  We went and it was very difficult but in the end a joyous event.  I’ve posted a pic of Gini and myself playing music for Bob and I love that big smile.  At his funeral a lot of folks got up and said wonderful things about him, he was just that good a man.  I was speechless with grief.  It took me about a year but I could finally write something and I’m going to share it with you.  If you knew Bob you’ll probably appreciate the story.  If you didn’t please read it anyway as a tribute to any friend that you have lost. Paul “Yo, Nelson!” I used to hear it over the phone. The mere sound of his voice made me relax and I somehow knew at that particular point everything would be all right. I’d feel those endorphins flowing all though my blood stream. The tension would just disappear as his beautiful baritone washed over my poor soul. He’s been gone now for a couple years and my world is just that much less. I go on but I sure do miss, “Yo, Nelson!” It’s easier that he lived hours away. Day to day I can delude myself that he is just living in White Oak and I can call him if I want. Every now and then the illusion fails and I ache to hear his voice. His enthusiasm, warmth and humor were like a balm. When all around him was swirling in confusion Bob would calmly deal with the problems one at a time. If ever a man was an inspiration to me that man would be Bob Shaw. Forty years of friendship are a gift to be cherished. I knew and loved his family, he knew and loved mine and I married his girl next door. He was one of the most intelligent people I knew and yet he left college to serve in the Army. He burned to be an independent businessman and I watched that effort come and go. He married a pretty woman that did not match his warm personality and I watched that cause him pain. He finally married the right woman for his life and I rejoiced at his good fortune. In midlife all came together for him. Aside from the boredom that his mind numbing, repetitious job caused him, all was well. His life was filled with a loving wife, beautiful daughter, lovely homes, big toys, family and friends. Jokes, laughter, good food, fast boats, good conversation, hard work; these are things that he loved. He had no interest in my passion for fishing yet he would patiently drive his boat so I could indulge this useless and to me fun past time. Sharing came naturally to Bob. Death can signal in an ambiguous fashion. At first elevated sugar levels seemed innocent enough and giving up sweets was a sacrifice but not the end of the world. When the sugar would not come under control more testing illuminated larger problems. Surgery eventually resulted and a vain attempt was made to deal with the growing menace. Through it all Bob maintained the calm assurance that comes with competence. Settling his affairs in order was the natural thing for him to do. We helped him recommit his love to his wife. That joyous celebration was at once one of the most beautiful and most painful experiences of my life. The lovely day was filled with the image of My Friend actively being, as imminent Death could not dim his enthusiasm for life. Friends and family were joined in his good fortune and misfortune. Water, air and sunshine did their part while the preacher in the fish shirt blessed them and we all danced the Conga. Strength beyond imagination was abundant.   Cancer eventually claimed another victim. We made the trip and I helped settle him into the ground. I know that existentially someone cannot die as long as we don’t forget them but still the pain comes that I cannot pick up the phone. I have memories that I can take out and cherish. I go from day to day dealing with the details of my life. But what I wouldn’t give to hear that, “Yo, Nelson!”   A funny thing happened this past weekend. My wife bought a couple young chickens and we needed to build a temporary divider in the pen.  Bob and his Father were where I first saw that image of self reliance and they could do amazing things with their hands. Gini and I were cutting and weaving wire together, working hard and sweating. Gini swears that while we were working she heard Bob say, “Yo, Nelson.  Whatcha doin’?” You know, I think I heard him too.