Remembering Texas Bob

Texas Bob (far right, with guitar) jamming at Spooks and Ukes.

It was with great sadness that we recently learned of the passing of longtime WFR participant Texas Bob. A stalwart member of the Tuesday afternoon Zoom group, Bob rarely missed a session over what I’d guess to be six years or more. His deep, gravelly voice brought a compassionate, steadying presence, although he rarely showed his face, which was emblematic of his private, humble nature. Bob’s work reflected an exploration of the complications of human relationships, often between male and female, and it frequently showed a romantic side. But he could also go deep into the pain, suffering and loss that often accompanied the misuse of substances.

Bob dedicated a good chunk of his life toward service for the recovery community. In addition to the support he showed other participants in WFR Zooms, he founded and maintained the WFR Telegram group, where he posted our Tuesday writing prompts and allowed folks to post their responses in a private space where group members could enjoy them. He also held a Monday song circle for songwriters in recovery and volunteered a space for unhoused people in Dallas, Texas, where he lived at the time of his death.

We are going to miss Bob, not only for his wonderful work and his contributions to the group, but his quiet sense of humor, his compassion toward the human condition, and his support for people across the world of recovery. In honor of all he gave, the next volume of our One Imagined Word at a Time anthology will be dedicated to him.

Tuesday group member Jenani Tzhone, who knew Bob in the world outside Zoom, wrote this beautiful tribute piece. We thank her for sharing and hope you will all enjoy it.

Ode to Texas Bob

You always showed up with your cowboy hat profile picture looking so Texan, with your name to
confirm.
One meeting you told us- it really wasn’t your picture but a celebrity that shared your
resemblance.
That made me laugh.
You rarely showed your face those years but that didn’t matter because your writing told more
than your face ever could.
Occasionally your screen would turn on and half a gray head would show.
You were elusive and mysterious yet with a deeply grounded voice you shared your story.
You kept reaching out through Telegram and pushing recovery events I never would have
checked out but for your persistence.
Vermont seems so far and foreign but knowing I had a friend in Texas brought some warmthand gave me an extra reason to show up.
I wouldn’t be in this group if it weren’t for you and this group has saved my life.
After years of zoom my curiosity got the best of me and I invited you to my Spooks and Ukes
event.
You showed up sheepishly with your guitar and we hugged like long lost friends.
Surprisingly, yet not surprisingly, you knew other people there.
We sang our hearts out and ate Texas chili.
I hope you're singing somewhere a little sweeter now my friend.
Thank you,
Jenani Tzhone