My Cousin Rob

My cousin Rob was a big, gentle man with a huge heart.


This past weekend someone murdered Rob on his own cattle ranch. Put a bullet through his big, gentle heart...and killed his dog too.

My extended family and I are now cloaked in unfathomable shock, sorrow, and just anger.

Rob's final words showed the man he was. He called home to say he would be rendering assistance to an illegal alien he'd just discovered at a watering hole. Rob was killed performing an act of kindness. Even if he had thought he'd be putting himself in danger, he would not hesitate to help. That's just the man he was.

Here's a quote from a earlier newspaper interview that aptly describes Rob's regard for his fellow man. He was talking about the problems associated with escalating numbers of illegal aliens crossing the Arizona border.


"One time," Rob said "You know, we've personally been broke in once. And they took about $700 worth of stuff. And you know, if they come in and ask for water, I'll still give them water. I - you know, that's just my nature."


Simple words profoundly describing a fundamental value that makes humans different from wild animals. 


This big, gentle, kind man who never knew an enemy died at the hand of a stranger for whom he held no malice or threat. That is far beyond outrage. For his helping nature, Rob paid the ultimate price, and - I truly believe - also will reap the greatest reward.

Tonight I treasure my memories of cousins in happier times at the ranch with Rob and Sue and Phil. We rode horses, and a gentle old burro named Jackson. We worked cattle. We savored the land where our grandparents had made a home for our fathers and aunts and uncles, and where Rob would eventually raise his own family to adulthood.

The ranch was a mecca for us all, a haven where we relished the great outdoors and natural beauty of southeast Arizona. It was also a place for regeneration, to commune with the rugged pioneer spirits of our forebears, and to learn that hard work renders just rewards...eventually.

Now Rob is wrenched away from us by a heinous, despicable, cowardly act. Yet his spirit is reunited with those who cherished that ranch before him...and who through example and word taught their future generations to always be kind and gentle to those in need.

You know, that's just our family's nature.

So, rest in peace, Rob. And please pass our love and gratitude to Frank and Sarah, and to Bertha and Louie, Marian and Eleanor and Dorothy, and most especially to Stuart and Bob.

And one other thing, Rob. Could you saddle up old Jackson and take one last ride on him for all of us cousins? We would love that a lot.