When it comes to remembering people, I believe stories say more than speeches. So, I have a couple of my favorite Robert stories to share with you.

No matter how you came to know Robert, you knew that he was an extraordinarily curious person. He had an insatiable desire to understand how things work and to make those things better.

Robert’s pursuit of knowledge didn’t begin with his early academic training or end with earning his Ph.D. And his drive to explore and understand the world around him wasn’t limited to his many career achievements as an electrical engineer.

…And that’s where a couple of Robert backstories come in.

When Robert retired from professional life, he didn’t take up the usual “retired-people” hobbies. Golf? No. Instead, welding! He bought welding equipment. It malfunctioned. He reverse-engineered the equipment and sent the fix to the manufacturer who used his solution to improve the product’s safety and performance.

He took up baking. Cookies, cakes? No way. Instead, French baguettes that required exacting temperature and humidity control to achieve the perfect crust. Which, he did!

Robert’s boundless curiosity goes even further back. It started at an early age – sometimes in unexpected ways. I remember one occasion when I unknowingly took part in one of Robert’s reverse-engineering adventures.

It was the summer of 1970. I had just returned from my junior year abroad with my prized possession, a brand new 35mm SLR camera. I was 20 years old. Robert was 11. Before leaving the house one day, I casually mentioned that the camera’s shutter release was acting up a bit.

When I returned home, I found the camera totally disassembled in over a hundred tiny pieces in neat rows on our ping pong table. My jaw dropped! Robert stood his 11 year-old ground. He assured me that all would be well by the next morning -- provided I didn’t touch anything. I didn’t, and it was – including a better-than-new, smooth operating shutter button.

Incidentally, the following week, Robert asked me how I thought the family car was running. I lied. I told him, “Perfect.”

Half a dozen years later, I nearly hit his motorcycle pulling into our family’s garage. Actually, it would be more correct to say that I almost ran over it – because dozens of carefully arranged pieces covered the garage floor. And yes, he got it back together and it ran better than ever!

One closing story. Last year, when I was rehearsing with my band, our PA speakers started to howl ear-shattering feedback. I couldn’t figure it out, so I called Robert. He carefully listened to me describe the problem and asked some questions. He explained what caused the feedback in signal processing terms that only an engineer could love. And then, he told me how to fix it. I was thankful for two things. First, the problem was solved, and I knew how to prevent it from happening in the future. Second, he lived too far away in California to take anything apart.

It’s fair to say that Robert was always taking things apart – sometimes your stuff, sometimes his. Sometimes with, and sometimes without permission. But that’s really only half the story. Robert’s defining talent was his ability to figure things out, put things together, build things, and make things better. His quick wit, wry sense of humor, and abundance of good old common sense were always part of the equation.

Whether you had the good fortune to know Robert as a colleague, friend, uncle, brother, Dad, or husband, you knew that my brother built lasting friendships and deep, loving relationships. And you knew that because he touched your life and you mattered to him. We love you and will miss you, Robert.

On behalf of our family –Chris, myself, and our two sons, Nick and David, our hearts and love go out to Maria, Steven, and James.

I have been on a wild, crazy roller coaster for 36 years. Robert took 80% of my time and energy and gave me a life way broader and more exciting than I could have ever made for myself.

When we were first dating in 1989, he said, “some friends of mine are biking to San Diego Mother’s Day weekend. Do you want to come with me?” I was quite fit back then and said “how hard is it?” “It’s easy,” he said, “it’s all downhill.”

We were to wake up at 6am to drive our bikes to Santa Ana Train Station to begin the trip. Around 11 pm the night before, he said, “Oh, I’m responsible for the maps and directions for everyone.” I was up until 3 am drawing up maps and writing up directions on an old mac. Don’t forget this is 1989 – no internet, no google maps, no dial up, just paper maps and a word processor. Around 2 am I had a heart-to-heart with myself “This is a big mistake, it just feels all wrong, I’m exhausted, what am I doing here, who is this man, what is this oil painting of a naked woman doing in his study?” I almost walked out. Instead we drove and we biked on 3 hours of sleep. 5 hours in, I’d forgotten our rough start and had fun… until the next trip… For the next 26 years, every trip started with no sleep the night before.

Not long ago, Robert started saying to me, “If I go first I want you to find someone else – you deserve it.” I started answering “Forget that, I need to rest.”

Robert was a true renaissance man. I’ll give you the list. You judge:

• he remodeled our old kitchen to my specifications down to the 1/16”

• he built the cabinets for two kitchens – yes from wood

• he rewired the old house

• he rewired the new house

• he saved my new plants every time I bought them by saying “tell me where to dig the holes before these all die”

• he played guitar by writing down the modality and key for each track on a CD and then just winging it

• he painted Yosemite; I hung it over our fireplace

• he perfected his Parisian baguettes

• he baked English muffins

• he taught me to mud interior walls

• he taught me to stucco exterior walls

• we poured cement and we made brick walkways

• we laid sheet linoleum - 5 times

• we scraped the asbestos off of our ceilings

• he replaced brakes on the cars and gave them tune-ups

• he co-authored Design and Analysis of Modern Tracking Systems

• he spent 7 years working on a proof to define Shafer Dempster Theory in terms of Bayesian probability (See appendix of above book)

• he read Feynman’s lectures

• he read one of Einstein’s books (the easy one)

• he learned tensors

• he made us learn relativity

• he re-learned and taught digital signal processing

• he refinished wood floors

• he repeatedly repaired our Jura espresso maker with parts from Italy

• he took up wood carving

• he welded

• he repaired his Marshall amp in the 90’s with tubes he mailed ordered from Russia (again – no internet)

• he built his first 8 bit computer in junior high school

Are you tired yet? I’m exhausted and I’m only listing this stuff, not doing it. Plus none of this was his actual job…

And did James tell you what an involved dad he was? Did you read Steven’s obituary? He earned their love by doing for them and respecting them. He was patiently waiting for the time when he could get interested in their hobbies. He wanted to show them welding and woodworking but he was also interested in exploring their hobbies after they graduated. Robert and I started playing video games because they wanted us to practice so we could play with them.

Here’s a story that typifies a Robert project:

He wanted to build a Murphy bed in the downstairs guest room so I could use the space to sew and do projects.

I didn’t like any Murphy beds on the market, so I designed my own.

He looked at the design and said “That looks great. Make me a cutting diagram.”

I made a cutting diagram. He said “That looks great. What wood do you want?”

I said “Walnut”. He said, “Great, let’s go buy walnut.”

We drove to Anaheim to buy the walnut and all they had was crap but it was cheap.

So we bought the best boards they had and went home.

Then we marked the boards, because each board had bad spots. Then he made an inventory of what lengths of good wood he had. Then he set about trying to optimize cutting the wood based on my cutting diagrams. This turned out to be a hard problem. Months went by. Then he read a paper by an admiral who was trying to minimize metal sheet waste in building ships. It turns out this is the same problem as his and it is "np complete" (not solvable). This admiral had an estimation program of how to solve the problem. So Robert coded it up but anything over 7 cuts of walnut was too big to run on Robert’s computer and it would run for days then crash. Here’s me “I’ll buy you more wood, just start cutting.” The end of the story is for years our friend Benny has been asking Robert “how’s the Murphy bed coming along?” Lately Robert’s answer has been “I’ve built and installed 5 new windows for the old house and only have two more to go.” And as an epilogue, anyone interested in free walnut may examine it in my family room this afternoon. Alternatively, if you are a woodworker and want some spending money, I have a set of plans and will pay you to build my Murphy bed.

I naturally have the patience of a saint, but I will tell you why all the half done projects and stacks of IEEE journals from 1989 on didn’t really bother me.

Robert’s priorities were as follows

1. Protect the Family

2. Have Fun

3. Learn

4. Work the Projects – you see the projects were at the bottom of the list

Robert and I had lots of fun. We philosophized. We postulated models of the brain. We analyzed society. We sat on our patio for hours. When any one of the family needed it, we kicked into high gear 24/7. He was the best strategist I’ve ever known. We learned together. We were learning quantum mechanics together. He wanted to know what I thought about everything. When it rained it was an automatic vacation day. When it hit 80 degrees it was an automatic vacation day. The projects were at the bottom of the list.

A few days after he died, I found myself wishing I had asked what his “new streamlined technique” was for cleaning the fountain. Then I thought if I had 4 hours more with him would I ask? No. If I had a year more would I ask him to build the Murphy bed?

1. Protect the Family

2. Have Fun

3. Learn

Projects are at the bottom.

In closing, he was always there for our boys. He told me I was an excellent mother. He told me my food was delicious. He showered me with love. He told me I made him feel 17 again. That’s why I didn’t care about the Murphy bed.

I want you to come to our house and tell us stories. We’ll have lunch and reminisce about fun times. We are going to the graveside and you may all join us. If you would rather go to the house and wait for us we won’t be long and our neighbors are there to welcome you. James has address cards to hand out so come up to say goodbye to Robert and talk to us. Then come to our house, please. Our beautiful neighbors have organized food and friends are bringing dessert!