Robert "Bio Bob" Irwin

Being a '63 baby, that makes me 63 years old, and while that's generally pretty gosh darned awesome, it also means that I'm losing friends, people that were both influential and impactful in my younger years. It's Circle of Life stuff, for sure, but it doesn't make one feel any better about the hole that has developed in my soul.

Robert "Bio Bob" Irwin was, as the moniker would indicate, my biology teacher back in the Stone Ages, later becoming a colleague when I returned to my alma mater as a member of staff, and then a good friend as one of the band of Merry Men who meet twice a month to commiserate, giggle, heckle, and belly laugh about our shared journeys to that point in life. Bob had a remarkable intellect, a wickedly dry sense of humour, and a mind boggling collection of paraphernalia that he seemed to know exactly where a needed piece was at any given moment. 

I am using the past tense because this past week, Cancer got the better of yet another person in my life.

"Bio Bob" was a beloved son of Mulmur, ON, and as such, filled his days with activities typical of that flavour, stories that he regaled at our meetings, often prompting an actual "guffaw" of pure belly laughter, sending airborne suds of beer spraying in all directions. After marrying the love of his life, Louise, Bob joined the staff of Barrie Central in 1969 and quickly became the stuff of legends with his antics and wit. A lover of practical jokes, many a colleague fell victim to his mischievous mind, all done in the pursuit of a good laugh. 

If you sit a collection of Central alumni down at a table with a host of adult beverages in the middle, and the stories will slide out like the beads of mercury he used to let us play with. Let that sink in ... we were allowed to play with mercury! Whether it was dissecting fetal pigs and rats, using cells procured from our own bodies, or burning sugars or starches, Bob was stuff of legends, and because of greats like him (AND Don Stephen, Don Lillow, Rick Kalte, Bill Fell, Bob Clarke or Brian Honey), I chose the career path of scientific "Sage on the Stage" for myself, although that's a bit of a misnomer since I rarely got assigned to teach science.

One of the more famous stories surrounds him setting himself on fire, an act profound enough to lead to the establishment of the infamous "Hot Pants" staff award presented annually at the final staff meeting to the colleague who had the "greatest" workplace accident for that school year. Having some matches in the pocket of his renowned white lab coat to make short work of lighting the Bunsen Burners for some lab, the story goes that Bob was fiddling with a Bunsen Burner flint lighter that was also in his bulging pockets as his students busied themselves, but accidentally set the matches, and himself, on fire. Serving to make the story even more outlandish, he didn't even notice until alerted by one of the students that his lab coat was smouldering. 

Our band of Merry Men is shrinking with time. Although that's inevitable, it is still depressing for me that parts of my youth are disappearing. 

I'll miss you "Bio Bob".
I'm comforted to know that you're no longer in pain and discomfort.
The last memory of time we shared is a rumbling belly laugh prompted by one of your infamous wise cracks, and that's exactly how it should be.

RIP my friend