One of the sadder inevitabilities of aging is that friends die. One reason for having friends younger as well as older than oneself. So today spot the obituary of a friend I had known for over sixty years.
Robert Gibbs; poet, short story writer, editor, teacher. First met him when I was a young student at UNB where Bob was both teaching and completing his doctorate and also became friends with his sister Jean whom we visit regularly when going through London. Do have a number of his books, though of course none with us, so will have to wait to revisit them when we are back in Canada.
Had just thought of him the other day as people are preparing for Christmas. Robert had studied at Cambridge back in the days when no one would have considered flying home across the Atlantic just for a short Christmas break. He recounted remarking to his landlady that the tea tasted strange on Christmas morning. “Oh my dear,”she said “I always put a little gin in it for Christmas.”
Well, this is a warmer climate and we will keep the gin separate from the tea but still raise a glass. Robert, RIP. 🍷🍷
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