He was to live in that house—famously without air conditioning—for almost all the rest of his life. Filled with books, art, and finds from thrift shops, it became a gathering place for many of the city’s larger-than-life characters, with raucous dinner parties that lasted late into the night and stray cats he’d coaxed back to health with a diet of smoked mullet.

I always felt that Bob understood how to live in a way that few of us ever do. Sophisticated and well-traveled, he also relished the simplest pleasures—food, drink, the company of family and friends. For a few years, he wrote a column for us called “Fat City,” about unpretentious places where the food was first-rate and, he said, “You’re likely to be seated by your plumber, a retired circus performer or a county judge”—his dream guest list, if ever there were one. Even on a busy day, he might drive out to the New Pass Bait Shop for a cheeseburger (he said the best sushi in town was the live shrimp in the shop’s baitwell) or share a cold beer with friends at sunset at O’Leary’s. If I ran into him downtown, he’d urge me to stop for a cup of coffee and shake his head in gentle reproach if I said I had to hurry back to work.

A few years ago, at the height of the real estate boom, Bob sold his house to a developer, for a sum that would have ensured him a comfortable retirement—something few writing careers here provide. Shortly after that, he told me—gently and apologetically, because he knew how disappointed I would be—that he was no longer going to write for us and planned to cut back at the Pelican, too, to take more time for travel and adventures. A few months later he was diagnosed with the cancer that killed him on the last day of 2007. He was 67. It’s easy to feel bitter that he never got the chance to enjoy his new financial freedom, but maybe that’s not the way to look at it. He lived every day with such zest and appreciation that he had more life than most of us ever will, no matter how many years we’re granted. I’m trying just to feel grateful for that—but it’s hard.

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Out of the Office
Fun and finds from our editors this month.

“I recently discovered Green Door Organics; every week I pick up an overflowing bag of fresh, locally grown organic fruit, vegetables and herbs. Selection varies, so each bag is a delicious surprise—and it’s only $14 for a small bag or $21 for a large one. Info: organicveggies.net.”—Megan McDonald, copy editor

“I’ll be at the Sarasota Opera House—366-8450—on March 1 for the grand reopening after $20 million worth of renovations. I got a sneak peek during construction and can’t wait to see the final version, plus see and hear the staging of Rigoletto.”—executive editor Kay Kipling

“I finally drove to Myakka City to see the famous Lipizzan stallions—wow! They’re beyond beautiful, with their white manes shimmering in the sun, and all that testosterone makes for a thrilling show. The free weekend performances end next month—call 322-1501.”—Pam Daniel, editorial director