April 30, 2013 — I realize ‘Bob’ is a common name, but my life seems to be peppered with an uncanny number of them.
There’s probably always been a Bob somewhere in my life; the first one I remember was ‘Bobby,’ the kind, handsome man who married my older sister. And I was married to a Bob for a good long while.
But, lately, at least for the past year or so, the Bobs have been proliferating. They seem to turn up everywhere.
I work with two Bobs. Recently Bob fixed my car and another one sold me organic carrots at a farmer’s market. There’s Bob who collects round rocks and Bob, the monk, who I knew as Bob the orthodontist, as well as Bob the lawyer who is thinking of becoming Bob another monk. There’s Bob who once danced naked at Mt. Shasta to welcome in the New Year. He said it was very cold. Last summer, I got an email out of the blue, ‘Remember me? Bob from Santa Cruz?” it said. There’s Bob the farmer, and most recently Jupiter Mars Bob who requires an explanation too lengthy for My Turn.
I usually get along well with men named Bob and have good associations with the name, including my ex-husband, whose very ‘Bobness’ is one of the things I most liked about him.
The Bobs I’ve known have, generally, been practical, down-to-earth men, the kind of man who knows how to mend fences, put up drywall and install electrical outlets in a room without blowing anybody up.
They are usually straightforward. If you’re doing something that doesn’t sit right with a Bob, he’ll let you know.
While a random Bob shows up now and then in my life, most of them are related in some way through that intricate web of interpersonal connections. They’re married to a relative or are the brother of a friend. They’re fathers and sons of people I know. Some of these Bobs have been in my life for years.
A Google search turned up a varied and fascinating collection of things related to Bob. I discovered a book called ‘A Streetcat Named Bob,’ about the relationship between an alley cat and a homeless man, an article on the Bob famine. Apparently, once upon a time more than 2,000 athletes were named Bob. That number is dwindling. I found an article with charts about ‘the guy named Bob’ theory of development. And I discovered there’s a cheese factory in Scotland called Bob.
There’s even a Bob club (thebobclub.com) which includes among other things, more than 3,000 names of people, places or things named Bob, the official definition of Bob, a Bob’s fun and games page and Bobology 101, the study of all things Bob.
On a Yahoo question and answer site, I found a question from a person called K Yo with a different Bob experience.
He asked, “Every single person I come into contact with named ‘Bob’ are the strangest people. So what’s up with people named ‘Bob’ and their personalities?”
The answers were as diverse as the Bobs. One man just left an equation: Bob = weird. Another attributed it to being named with a palindrome.
Learning so many fascinating facts about men named Bob will, no doubt, give me some insight into their personalities. But another thing about Bobs, as soon as you think you have them figured out, they change and surprise you.
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