Bobby Gale remembered

I've reached an age where I occasionally lose people I appreciate to a wide array of maladies. I've written before about the all too lengthy list of former Central and North colleagues who passed over far too young, or about close friends, ex-team mates, and even relatives who left holes in my soul with their passing. All of these losses have changed me, of that there's no doubt, but a recent pang of sadness caused a stirring of memories that were previously buried under a plethora of dusty old recollections and has spurred me to write this post. 

My retired Central friend Bruce Rumble uncovers all sorts of really interesting articles covering a wide variety of facts, but a recent email from him revealed that an infamous Barrie icon had left behind a mixed bag of emotions and memories for anyone who has spent a significant amount of time in Barrie, especially downtown, at Queen's Park, community centres or the YMCA. Robert "Bobby" Gale passed suddenly at 69, on April 30th.

Bobby Gale ... the name prompts a host of memory fragments to come flooding forward in my neurons, causing a swell of laughter, curiousity and sadness. 

I first met Bobby way back in the late 70's when I was hired by the Barrie Raceway as a security guard. My father was friends with Earl Rowe Jr, and at the time, he was involved with running the horse races at former site beside the 400 and the Barrie Curling Club off Essa Road. I started in the parking lot crew, but for whatever reason, was soon transferred to paddock security, and it was here that my path crossed Bobby's. What struck me right away was his larger than life personality, quick with a smile, twinkles in his eyes, huge laugh, and I was immediately drawn in to Gale vortex. Here I was, still wet behind the ears, and this older guy seemed completely jazzed to have me as a friend. We talked about a million different things as we manned the entrance to the paddocks from the grandstand, and Bobby always tried to pass on the life-lessons he had to share.

Later, after moving on from high school, Bobby and I crossed paths again when I was home from Queen's in the summer and playing for the Barrie Rugby club. Bobby was NOT a rugby player, displaying little or no understanding of the game, but he could run forever and was tough as nails, never shying away from any donnybrook that erupted amidst the game. Let me just say this ... he could handle himself in a dust up! It was during these interactions that I found out about his "other" side from some of the others as they regaled tales of Bobby's escapades in the Barrie nightlife. Granted that tales shared verbally by young, testosterone charged males have a tendency toward hyperbolic proportions, the stories shared were in stark contradiction to the man that had befriended me scant years ago. Even given the admonishment, there was enough truth to make me wonder about the dichotomy that must have victimized Bobby's soul.

I don't recall crossing paths again for quite some time, but the clearest memory surrounded a chance encounter at Queen's Park tennis courts during a time I had brought a HPE class up from Central. I can vividly recall the brilliant sunshine, warm temperatures, and springtime smells of freshly mowed grass ... I'm not sure why, but those memories are strong. I always counselled the kids to use 4 courts and leave one for any community members who might be interested. On this particular morning, no one else was there when the class began, so we used all five courts. When Bobby arrived, his huge personality drew my attention because he was having a loud conversation with a few kids. Any fears I had about confrontation quickly faded as I realized the exchange wasn't negative, just really loud, and approaching the group, I found Bobby had the lads in fits of giggles, his eyes sparkling brightly. I didn't realize it was him at first, so I instructed the kids to open up the court for the "gentleman" prompting Bobby to turn, recognize me, and quip that he was no gentleman, but he'd love to share a game with these 'fine fellows". He immediately extended a hand as a greeting, and loudly informed the entire tennis courts that how glad he was to see me. He always called me Stephen. I'm not sure why, but it was never Steve. Those boys that did end up playing some tennis with him shared a wonderful period, and had a million questions on the way back to Central at the end of class about who Bobby was and how I knew him.

Over the years I taught at Central, Bobby and I crossed paths a number of times, sometimes at Queen's Park, but also occasionally at East Bayfield Community Centre when I was refereeing basketball or supporting Maddi as a member of the Barrie Trojans. He never failed to acknowledge me with a vigorous handshake, a magnificent smile, those twinkling eyes and a loud "Well, hello Stephen!" It was always warm, genuine and positive, although others would often comment to me about their own not-so-positive interactions with him as they tried to enjoy the facilities and he loudly informed them of some sort of issue they created for him. Despite these stories, I get the feeling that Bobby lived at the poles of emotion, mostly beaming, happy and upbeat, but quick to temper when there were bumps in the road. It was these later years that I discovered his talent as an artist, something that struck me as yet another wrinkle in the conundrum of his life. 

The last time I encountered Bobby was a year or so ago, just before the pandemic started, and I was in my final semester of teaching at Barrie North. I was downtown for a social gathering of some sort, and I ran into him on Dunlop Street. Our familiar routine followed ... "Well, hello Stephen!" .... but when the conversation revealed that I was soon to retire, he gushed about how Barrie would never be the same, and how sad he felt for all of the kids who would not get the chance to become my friend. That was the nature of our relationship, Bobby and me, always upbeat, positive, and loud, him lathering on the compliments. Unfortunately, this encounter left me with an uneasy feeling, as I recognized that the twinkle was quite as bright as it used to be. I wasn't sure, but it seemed that time was not being kind to Bobby, and he was looking really aged.

God will most certainly bless you Bobby. Yours was a life lived well and to the best of your ability. The loss of your massive personality will leave a hole in the Barrie community, that's for sure. 

RIP