Bob Marshall

Lived next door to Marshall's Filling Station. Next to Clarence and Elsie. Remember playing "catch" with Kenny. He was my hero. Grant Utt used to say, "He could hit it half as far, and get to where I was trying to get, in half the time!" Wished I had taken his every pitch in the glove, as a resolve. A resolve to know that from that "game of catch," a lifetime of learning, learning that what you give, you receive! Then along came came Bob.....

If you never knew Bob, you never knew Clarence! He would say, "Have you heard that boy play that horn? He's going to be somebody! " I can't describe the look, the posture in Clarence's eyes, as he extolled about Bob. His boy was special. Clarence knew it. Through him, we knew it.

Today, we smell the smells of a corner filling station. We feel the metal hitting metal as rims are loosed from their tires. You smell the little grinding motor, that sharpened the blades of your lawn mower. You saw a hoist, lifting up, yet another vehicle, in need of of soothing.

The sycamore trees shed their leaves, each year, I suppose. They were next to the "service station" that served us, in so many ways. That we should shed our leaves so easily.

So, Bob, as I write these words, I see you smiling! And, I hear you say, "It all started there, with a love that no one can comprehend. Yet, it was there....and you are here....and together, we will
be a band....a Beggs Band....and we will play wherever tunes need to be played!

Just wish I could hear those sycamore trees rustling. Just to feel the "pop" in my glove, when Kenny "threw it in." Just to smell the oil, that makes things run. Just to know that Bob is in a place where life returns to music....and know we are all the better for it!!!!!!!!!!!