I was named after my materinal grandfather, Robert Burton White, Sr
. He was never a Bob, at least not as far as I am aware of. He was really, really tall compared to be at 5 years of age. He was mostly bald, really thin hair. He was a farmer in Beaver, Utah. He served a term in the state legislature and was a bishop.
We visited him 2 or 3 times a year. We would sleep at their home, a farmhouse, like a 2 bedroom home. Out the back door was a fruit cellar that always intrigued me. It had the slanted door, dug into the ground. It was always cool and dark inside. Always filled with canned fruit. Grandma had this large raspberry patch which we made sure it was picked clean. We sure loved to get into that patch. She hated morning glories because the vines would grow into the patch and choke out her raspberries.
Grampa would call to me, "Robert! Ohhhhhh Robert!" He had the most interesting outbuildings beside the barn, filled with amazing stuff that we loved to play with and touch.
the one time I remember visiting, Grampa was going to go out and spray for bugs in his garden. It was a pressurized pump. It was really heavy. I was helping him, hauling the spray container and would stop as he sprayed each plant and then we'd move on to the next one.
I sure do remember his funeral. It was a very hot day. My cousin Vickie Williams was sitting next to me crying We got up to the cemetery to bury him and a sudden rainstorm came up. We didn't get out of the car but watched as the folks did what they needed to do to inter him.
So I am named Robert. Not Bob. Not Rob. But if you pronounce it like the French, I'm good with that (Ro-Bear). Only my special friends call me Ro-Bear, by the way.
