My Father Called Me Bobby

by Robert F. Scherma

"Not only a memoir, but a love letter to rich and memorable relationships that gives hope that there can be sweetness after loss, humor in remembrance, and stories to hold our joys past and present."

– Melissa Febos, author of Whip Smart, Abandon Me, and Girlhood.



My Father Called Me Bobby is an intriguing memoir detailing Bobby’s experiences growing up in an Italian family in the ’50s and exploring the sexual revolution a few decades later. The first-person narrative welcomes readers into his childhood and his initial experiences with God, faith, and religion, all tied in with the influences and antics of his Italian family. His initial decision to join the seminary and become a priest will not come as a surprise. Determined to be a priest, he spends almost four years in the seminary until the sexual revolution of the 60s turns his world upside down and he leaves the Church. He begins to experiment with his sexuality with women and then with men during one of the most infamous times in New York City. His descriptive writing style paints a vivid picture for his readers, allowing them to relive his experiences at his side, maintaining their attention page after page. His relationship with Beryl will warm the hearts of the readers and as events unfold, will shake them to their core. My Father Called Me Bobby will remind readers to live their lives to the fullest – full of love and passion and laughter – and is sure to leave readers enthralled until the very last page.

246 pages, Paperback

Published August 31, 2021

Reviews

[Peter Clothier · Rating 4 out of 5]

I wish I'd had a family as big and quarrelsome and loving and embracing as the one that Scherma describes in his memoir. It's an Italian family--not Italian Italian but American Italian--whose Brooklyn home is redolent of all the flavors of Italian cooking and Italian exuberance. Growing up in England, I learned to be reticent, obedient, restrained. What Scherma describes is the opposite of what I knew. A father and mother, brothers and sisters with few boundaries and lots of love between them. But I recognize in what he writes the struggle with religion, the long and sometimes difficult process of growing to manhood, the errant path to sexual maturity, the means to cope with separation, loss, and the resulting pain. What counts in the long run, as he discovers and shares with his readers, is love. That, and blessing. In a moving last passage--an addendum really--he learns the spiritual gift of deeksha, the passing of healing/blessing through the laying on of hands. It's what I asked of my own father on his deathbed, something he believed in and practiced in his life, so this had a special resonance for me. I learned not only about Scherma and his family from this book. I learned about myself and mine.