In Memory of Barber Bob

Our friend Bob Lynn left us this week after struggling with crumbling health. He leaves a legacy of love and service, his wife Karen, his daughters, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, family, friends.

He showed a positive face through it all.

This post is in honor of a fine man with an incredible life, I choose to repost a story I wrote in December 2021 after meeting him, for the first time, for lunch at Cracker Barrel in Florida. I was entranced by his memories and experiences.

Many of you knew him through the years, and I graduated with his brother Mike. Bob, Karen, and I met for lunch on another occasion (where we promised not to bore her with Heights memories, and we tried, we really did, but she was warm and forgiving, anyway).

There we were at that first lunch, two former residents from the Heights, trading memories and childhood experiences. Around us, the clanking dishes and scrumptious aromas of my local Cracker Barrel created a movie set for our visit.

Bob wanted to thank me for writing every week about our long-ago home, but I was so enmeshed and fascinated with his life adventures, I didn’t let him stop until the waitress offered refills so many times, it was time to leave.

Once Bob discussed a friend with a non-Heights local and was told, “You guys in the Heights are interbred.” No, but we’re all connected in some way.

I graduated with Bob’s younger brother Mike. His youngest daughter was named for my sweet sister-in-law Debbie. Another classmate played in golf tournaments with Bob and his brother.

That’s the Heights. A daydreaming poet and a successful, popular man of sports, charities, and business could spend hours with linked experiences, 1200 miles and nearly 50 years away.

Bob won a Michigan award for his work with the Jaycees, played sports for the high school and Boy’s Club, won championships.

Owned a barber shop, “across from Sheila Lynn’s barber shop, now an insurance agency” before he and Mike moved to the New Center in Troy.

He made friends customers, and customers friends. Visited the sick and dying in hospitals to cut hair, harvested hay, plucked chickens (and pheasants, with a clever technique to remove pin feathers easily), spent summers in Indiana on family farms. Could build, design, troubleshoot.

Never lost his fervor for celebrating life, in spite of health concerns that would quell a movie hero. Kept his interest in everybody of every age.

“Did you know Loretta Lynn?” he’d be asked, and could answer, “Well, we knew her husband,” but couldn’t introduce the eager fan since “my father didn’t like him.”

One vivid memory was hearing a little girl with a big voice sing for the first time on stage, “and I fell in love.” Brenda Lee.

I hardly remembered to eat my chicken tenderloins.

Bob also painted a picture of the Heights we both knew. Our neighborhoods were on opposite sides from each other. He lived near the old high school around Livernois, and I grew up on Caroline, off Squirrel Road, but we recognized the same families, teachers, schools, and downtown, although Bob was far more outgoing and active in the community.

He ran into Stewart’s Diner for a treat every time their baseball team won a game, so earned a shake every week, with the owner's praise. “I wonder what would have happened if we’d lost,” he said.

He knew the details of the diner becoming the upscale restaurant, The Shalea, where I once had an anniversary dinner I’ll remember until my brain freezes.

Bob spoke with warmth and respect of Sam Sheehy, the coach at the Boys’ Club who led the sports team and made a welcome center in our neighborhood.

We laughed over events in common, and pulled out favorites—parades, fireworks, fall festivals. He shared why the meaning of Christmas is real to him. He brought up names that painted pictures in my mind of friends and neighbors I knew, creating a true fountain of youth, since you never age in a memory.

I’ve rarely enjoyed a lunch more.

Thank you, Barber Bob, for taking the time to drive to my area and brighten my afternoon, for stirring memories, for bringing the Heights closer and more vibrant.

And I am honored to have shared some of your memories.

Karen, we are sorry for your loss.

Bob will be missed by many, many of us.