Bob Flug
The 1978-79 journey from being a lawyer in Bridgeton, New Jersey, to being a lawyer in Saint Paul, Minnesota, was – like the summer of 1972 journey – another 9,000 miles taking over three months, and once again friends played a significant part. It started with Pat DeCarlo’s long-time boyfriend from Peace Corps days, Bob Flug, finally giving-up on ever having Pat back as his one-and-only, and offering to drive me back to Minnesota.
At the time Bob and I were roommates and he was nurturing me back from the one period in my life when I was suffering from debilitating headaches 24/7 – due to stress according to the doctors. Thank heavens for the Doc who got me to understand that burning the candle at both ends for a couple years meant learning and doing relaxation exercises for a couple years before the tension in my head might abate. It did, YEA! And BIG thanks to Bob for giving me space to relax in – and getting me back to finding joy in living.
Bob had a way, like no other person I’ve ever known, of always being cheerful and uplifting. If it’s the duty of a Saint to always be happy, with Bob it never seemed to be a duty. He got me playing tennis, frisbee golf, shooting pool, and going to Atlantic City to watch the action, but most of all he was just plain friendly, cheerful, optimistic, and got me laughing again.
In Bridgeton, Bob worked at the community cable TV station brainstorming, editing and hosting public affairs programing. But once there was no longer hopes of ever again having a Patricia DeCarlo in his life, Bob, like me, felt it was time to move-on.
We left Bridgeton NJ, in late December, 1978, with Bob not knowing where he was going to end-up – just knowing it was time to leave Bridgeton. I had no deadline for arriving back in Minnesota
Leaving town, one friend asked if we could give her a lift to Miami where she was catching a flight to Guatemala. Another said, as long as you’re going to Florida, can you stop in Ormond Beach to check on my sister who has joined a cult – she might need rescuing. My parents said, “Hey, bring your sister Freddie her Christmas presents.” (Freddie had recently dropped out of college and moved to Madeira Beach, Florida, with her boyfriend.) The full story of the trip called the “Florida Rescue Mission” can be found in the Archives or by clicking <Here>. Suffice for here – we ended up rescuing my sister!
(In the photo, that’s Sister Freddie ten years later with Ben & Madeleine, her two with ever-lovin’ Pete.)
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Bob and me at Spring Training in Tucson. Bob had the great idea we could make money selling solar dogs.
After visiting many of Bob’s friends around the country and making new life-long friends in Denver (Vicky), Tucson (Debbie), and San Francisco (Leiba), we went to visit Beverly in Portland. Like me, Beverly started as an intern in the Bridgeton Legal Services Office, but now was a full-time lawyer for Portland Legal Services. We arrived about 4 p.m.
“No kidding,” she says, “you guys are downstairs?!” (We hadn’t told her we were coming.) After a few minutes catching-up and explaining what we were up to, she says, “Wait Bob! I’m on the local community cable station board and we’re hiring a new Director at tonight’s meeting. I just talked with the Board President and she says she’s not impressed with any of the candidates. Here’s my typewriter, type up your resume, and get it over there before the meeting starts in an hour!”
Talk about timing! We’d left Bridgeton, NJ, over 80 days ago, having no idea where all we were going, and we end up in Portland, without a minute to spare! The Board President thanked Bob for his application, said the decision was being made tonight, and to call the next morning to learn if he got the job.
caption: 80 days not knowing where we were going and not a minute too soon
We were still wanting to visit Ginny, another ex-Bridgetonian, now in Seattle, so we drove up that night and the next morning Bob called, and . . . . and he got the job! . . . . and I bought a three-week Amtrak pass ending up back in Minnesota in April, 1979.
Bob remained in Portland the rest of his life, finding a new lady friend (Bob, such a gentleman), eventually going to law school and becoming a legal services lawyer himself. He’d come my way once a year and I’d go his way once a year.
photo caption below: Bob, back in Minnesota, helping on my first campaign. He died young with me at his bedside.
