Bob Morris, 1942 - 2004
I met Bob several years ago at Carey Hilliards. A group of police officers would get there a few times a week at about midnight and shoot the breeze. My uncle Randy was one of the cops, and he told my brother to meet them there. I went with my brother Tommy a few times.
They didn’t call him The Man in Black for nothing; it’s all he wore. And he never went anywhere without his cameras and police scanners. If he got up to go to the bathroom he would take at least one camera and one radio with him.
My family was in some of his columns. My mom even made one: she once tied a note around a dog’s neck who kept getting into our garbage. Bob thought it was hysterical and wrote it up. The antics of my extended family was featured many times. Even when they weren’t I always enjoyed his writing.
I bumped into Bob a year or so ago. He was covering a trial at the courthouse, which is near where I work.
“You probably don’t remember me, do you?” I said.
“You look familiar, but no… not really.”
I told him my aunt’s name and saw the light come one. We talked for a good ten minutes before he had to head back. Like he had known me his whole life.
I didn’t know him well, but my brother did. So did my aunt and uncle, and their daughter. I’ll still miss him. I know they will.
Truly one of a kind.