“There is no laughter today. Rob has passed away.”
That notice was posted on Rob’s Facebook page yesterday. It hit me like a ton of bricks.
Rob was one of my kids. When we began The Heart of America Foundation 20 years ago, our explicit purpose was to inspire the development of young people like Rob and the 120 other ambassadors who were his spiritual kin. He was our Peter – the rock we built the Heart of America on.
Rob was seventeen when we met. He was in the first class of young adults we honored with a National Caring Award in 1990. When we asked his high school counselor what he was like, she said, “Rob dares to be different.” We soon found out she was right.
Rob was the only person I know who stopped every day, wherever he was, to watch the sunset. Many people talk about smelling the roses. Rob did.
Next to my mom, he was the most positive and joyful person I have ever met. Rob said it was because he had a near-death experience when he was child. It gave him a deep appreciation for the gift of life and a determination to live every day to the fullest.
He came to our attention when we learned he had developed a drug prevention program for his high school. He had also formed a crisis hot line and was credited with successfully intervening in four instances when one of his classmates was considering suicide. In a world where we often hear what’s wrong with the younger generation, Rob embodied all that was right.
When we met at the Caring Awards, I asked him what he wanted to do. He said he wanted to be a clown and hoped someday to headline the Big Apple Circus. Frankly, I had trouble taking seriously until he showed up on my doorstep that summer. He was on his way to the Ringling Brothers Clown College in Florida.
The next time I saw him he was traveling north. He had landed a job with the Clyde Beatty Circus. Each spring and fall thereafter, with this circus or that, traveling north or south, Rob passed through Washington and we spent some time together.
Every fall when he came through, I gave him a coat. I did so knowing Rob would only wear it until he found someone who needed it more.
That was his nature. Rob had no interesting material things. He shopped at thrift stores so that someone would benefit from the things he bought. The clothes he bought were worn for a while and then donated back or passed on – like my coats – to someone he met along the way.
“For me, sharing is just part of living,” Rob said. “We are all pretty much the same. We all have the same basic core needs. We all need to be loved and appreciated. We all want to feel important to someone. It doesn’t matter the race, religion or sex of a person, we all feel the same things.”
Rob went on to work for Disney, here and in Japan, and then started traveling the world with his one-man show. In 2010, he came through Washington again. This time it was in fulfillment of one of his of his life-long dreams – he was on his way to New York as a headliner with the Big Apple Circus.
Memories of our time together cascade through my mind. I remember the quiet times – just sitting and talking – and I remember the silly times, like traveling down the highway with an empty egg carton attached to the roof of the car, smiling and waving at the concerned people we passed; “loosing” a baby carriage on a hill to see how people would react; or teaching our son how to balance a hat or an eight-foot ladder on his chin (Rob swore the principle was the same).
Like every good performer, Rob commanded attention. Whenever we went out to eat it was only a matter of time before he “owned” the place. Every child in the restaurant and every waitress under the age of 30 would soon gather around, drawn to him by some magic beyond description. All of them left with a piece of Rob – a table napkin shaped into a rose, a balloon animal, or some new skill, like how to balance a spinning plate on your finger.
That’s how I like to think of him now. I know there are pieces of Rob all around the world; owned and treasured by the thousands of people he met. He loved and wanted nothing more than that. He just wanted to make people happy. He was, in the words of one show critic, “The International Man of Mirth.
While there is no laughter today, there will always be joy when I think of Rob.
A good remembrance, Bill. Clearly, Rob had heart.
I am still in shock over this. Rob Torres simply wanted to make people happy, and he was quite good at it.
A remarkable memory and man of character and charisma! Thanks for writing this, Bill!
While I never had the great pleasure of meeting Rob, I feel as if I knew him from the stories you and Angie have shared. Being part of the first class of the HOA Ambassadors meant he was exceptional… and we know through his life journey and his sensibility he was beyond exceptional. We and the world are at a loss.
Bill, I am sorry to hear of your great loss, but just reading your message about him, he may be gone but he has left many great memories to you and many others. Please know that I will be thinking of you in your time of loss!! Prayers to you all.
Bill, you are so eloquent and the world is so much richer for having you and Rob in it.
As you say, he remains in those whose lives he touched. Our thoughts and prayers are with you and all who are keenly feeling the lose of his physical presence. Thank you for introducing me to Rob so many years ago, and for bringing the stories of so many remarkable souls to light.
He was truly unafraid to be different and therefore made a difference. Long live your joyful memories of Rob. I have no doubt he could perform an encore yet. After all, you created the award that brought him to Washington and the Foundation that he and kindred spirits inspired. Who knows what his memories may engender in someone next and what piece of him may show up when we least expect it.
Please give Angie, Will and your entire extended family of life-lovers and world-improvers our deep and sincere appreciation, admiration and love. And as your brother was fond of saying, “Keep a lion’s share for yourself.”
Bill and Angie,
I was saddened to hear about Rob.
The first thought that comes to anyone hearing this kind of news is…oh no, what happened? Why did he die so young. He was an amazing person.
And then you realize, it’s not how he died, but how he lived.
I met Rob because of the two of you 25 years ago. But I remember him as the young boy I didn’t really “get”. He was so carefree and alive, while I was so serious about my life and what I had to “get done” to achieve my goals. I thought those things were important. Many years later, I see his wisdom.
Rob’s car broke down while traveling through Orlando. He called me for help and I wasn’t sure what to do. So I went to a sub shop and met him down at a lake in downtown Orlando where I lived. We sat down on the grass near the lake and shared the sub and some chips. I didn’t know him well, as he seemed to be a different kind of person so I thought I could teach him a few things…I soon realized I may have been the one who could learn a few things from him.
So with this sad news, I will share with you three things he taught me…
1. Always look at life with no judgement
2. Be brave through action
3. Live fully in the moment
Although I only had a few moments in time meeting and spending time with him, I will tell you he made a difference in my life.
Thank you Bill and Angie for sharing the light of people like Rob into so many lives.
It is my hope his family knows how he touched others lives.
He was an amazing young man.