Dear family and friends,

This is a place to collect these moments and impressions as a family & community; to gather, celebrate, mourn, and process the loss of our dear friend / colleague / neighbor / brother / brother-in-law / uncle Bob (Rob).

Please engage however best serves you. There is no wrong way!

• All forms of contributions are welcome: stories, anecdotes, memories, poetry, bullet points, images, videos, screenshots etc.
• Address whomever you wish: Rob, his family, yourself (past, present or future),  each other,  no one in particular, Messi the Dog, the trees outside Bob’s apartment...
• Or just read what other folks have written

TIP: If you don't know where to begin, consider sharing:

• One thing you will miss about Rob
• One thing Rob gave to you (a memory, recipe, way of looking at the world, fashion advice, movie recommendation, fart putty, anything)  OR  one way you (or your life) changed as a result of knowing him.

Read Less

To Rob's Family and Friends, I met Rob, around a decade or less ago, when I hired him to be a graphic designer for conferences I organized. I was delighted to work with him. I had written to him several months ago, to check if he'd be ready to work on the next project. When I didn't hear from him, I  emailed him and called, but no response. So I searched the internet and found his obituary, which was shocking to me as it was to all who knew him.  May his memory be a blessing, and provide peace and comfort to all who loved him.

I feel a little silly posting here since I didn’t really know Bob.  I was childhood friends with Lenore and remember being at their childhood home many years ago. I was probably in around 8th grade. 

I remember meeting Bob who was the COOLEST guy playing his guitar.   I immediately swooned at how adorable he was and how he just oozed charisma. 

Fast forward to social media where Lenore and I became friends. I found him on social, and immediately felt validated. He still held such charm, was still adorable and struck me as being someone I would love to be friends with today. It also shows what good taste I had at such a young age!  I especially loved how he enjoyed beautifying his neighborhood by planting flowers. What a fantastic human. 

I am so very sorry for the entire Scarpa family, and all of his extended family and friends. ❤️

Where to begin? I guess I will start from our beginning: I met Rob-Bob in late 1987 when I started working at a Public Relations firm in mid-town; Bob was working with LaPlaca-Moffet, a graphic design firm that sublet space within that office. We immediately hit it off, and we began hanging out. I adored his then boyfriend-of-the-moment Chris Bowen. I lived in Hell’s Kitchen – not a happening neighborhood back then. His apartment in the West Village – on the corner of Bleecker and Christopher streets – always seemed abuzz with activity. His roommate Brent Jasper – quiet and thoughtful – complemented nicely Bob’s outgoing personality.

Over time, our different circles of friends blended together. I got to know his very first boyfriend – Gordon Pulaski; his best friends: long, leggy Brian Heyduczek, little muscleman Dhui – both of whom left this world all too soon; neighbors: Scott Barnard, David Horne, Banjo.

Bob, in turn, became friends with my college friend and roommate Tom Crimmins, his partner Ned Davies, Rob Clyman – whose name I think necessitated the hyphenated Rob-Bob to avoid confusion – Kevin McDonough, Kenn Ashley, Peter Brotherton, many others.

During our time at that office, one of my colleagues developed full-blown AIDS. Bob and I – and a couple of others from the office – would take turns sitting with Monty at the hospital each day after work until visiting hours were over. Aside from his mother, no one else from his family came to visit. After his passing, his mother thanked us both for simply being there.

Near the end of my time at that office, Bob and I attended the closing party at the club called the Saint. That was a weekend-long event that went into Monday. I remember both of us going into work Monday morning – after very little sleep – and then cabbing down to the club at lunchtime for one last twirl on the dance floor.

I left the office shortly thereafter… but moved into the village a couple of blocks away from Bob. One day, he called me up super excited because he had found several boxes of theatrical outfits which were being thrown away – there were different groups of matching outfits in varying sizes and colors: thus was born the Queens of Denial and the Majas on the Balcony – both trios consisting of Bob, me, and David Flachs. Joe Z documented the Majas during one particular Wigstock festival – which is how I first met him.

In those early years of friendship, I came to realize Bob was happiest when he was partnered. He was rarely single for long. He did not buy into my feminist ideal that ‘Bob without a boyfriend is like a fish without a bicyle’. Aside from Gordon – who was before my time, I have already mentioned Chris Bowen… then came a series of boyfriends, some of whom I remember, others I do not: there was David – the one with great hair… there was Alexander von something – Austrian I believe. At some point Robert Garcia came into his life. I truly believe Bob would have been very happy with him for a very long time had he not also left this world early. I don’t remember exactly when he met David Flachs – it was just good to see Bob happy again after Robert’s passing.

I moved to the East Village… then to the Lower East Side… then to Union Square… then to Cobble Hill in Brooklyn. People drifted apart; people drifted away; others drifted in: Todd Pogosky, Russell Benson, Tom Uldrick, Chris Berger.

After continuous battle with his landlord, Bob gave up the loft apartment on Bleecker Street – of which I have such fond memories. He and David moved first to Chelsea on 7th Avenue, then to Park Slope. Later, they bought a house in Maplewood, NJ. I was concerned I wouldn’t see him very often after this last move.

Fast-forward: Bob moved back to Chelsea, this time to a top floor walk-up on 17th Street – to a new life, new friends: Vincent, Jonathan, Chicho, Katie, Shonjoy, Danny, many others.

After almost 2 decades of friendship, I finally got a chance to meet his parents: Eleanor and Gary. They were in town for a show and staying at the Hotel Pennsylvania. We met at the restaurant. It was as if I had known them my entire life! I had heard so much about them… and apparently vice versa... although Eleonor did blurt out “with a name like Towfiq, I wasn’t sure if your English would be that good.” My life shifted south to Washington, DC with Tom’s new job. During those early years in DC, Tom and I were honored to be included in the Scarpa family Thanksgiving celebrations in Voorhees.  Aside from brother Ken and his children – Emma, Maizy, Garret – whom we had met earlier in upstate NY, we met brother Gary, brother Mark – who couldn’t stop laughing at my ‘dot or feather’ joke, Mark’s husband John, sister Lenore, her husband Dave – both of whom went out of their way to make sure I could be present here today, nieces Jennifer, Shea, Stephanie. Bob was always so proud of the next generation and their accomplishments.

We moved to Seattle. Bob moved to Jackson Heights – proximity strengthening his existing friendship with Rudi Gaudio, and adding respective new partners Alex Rivas and Kirk Heard.

We moved back to NY in 2021… to the northern suburbs. Bob – along with a few others – was there to celebrate with pizza on the day we got keys to the new house. Since then, he has always cheerfully accepted any invitation to come up for this reason or that… certainly more cheerfully than I was to go visit Maplewood! We didn’t see each other often: this year, there was my birthday party in January… then his slightly belated birthday dinner with Tom and Ned on March 21st… followed very closely with another belated birthday dinner for Tom Uldrick – also with Tom and Ned – on March 29th. Tom Crimmins always documents social occasions with selfies. And those are the last photos I have of Bob on my phone… from March 29th.

We are the sum of our memories… and the memories we create in others. I have more than half a lifetime of shared memories to look back upon and find solace.

Dear Scarpa Family,

My deepest condolences for the loss of your brother / uncle.

Peace & Love

I faced the same conundrum in contributing to this site as did my husband Russell. To write down my thoughts about Rob is to confirm that the surreal is real, that the unacceptable must be accepted. My resistance has prevented me from truly grieving for Rob, and that is a task of frightening enormity.

Russell and I began a long-distance relationship in 1999, and he introduced me to Rob almost immediately. After Russell joined me permanently in Los Angeles in 2001, I continued to travel to New York on a regular basis, usually on my own. That way, I could feed my addictions—theater, opera, ballet, museums—while my arts-averse husband could feed our cats and breathe countless sighs of relief. I ended up coming to Manhattan seven or eight times a year. Rob became my theater buddy and post-theater dinner companion during almost every visit … as well as one of my closest friends. Russell bringing Rob into my life all those years ago was a gift of the highest order.

Because of the intensity of my travel schedule, which consisted of at least five shows in a three-day visit, my friendship with Rob took place in a kind of bubble. We had a few evenings with others when Russell came to New York, but it was almost always just Rob and me. It was rare for me to meet Rob’s friends or partners, and I never knew his family (both two-footed and, eventually, four-footed). But I contentedly listened to hundreds of anecdotes about these delightful and/or aggravating phantoms over the years. Rob’s life was filled with dramas both little and large—and he could get justifiably cranky or melancholy—but it was also rich in the amusements, amity and appreciation he much deserved.

Rob had a natural vivacity, a sense of adventure and a generosity of spirit; I know that’s why his phone book was thick and his calendar was filled. He was also a more generous theatergoer than me; he often enjoyed things that I did not. But we always shared our opinions on these and other topics with honesty, patience and, perhaps, a touch of amusement. (Something similar must have enabled him to bridge the political divergences he had with his dad.) Rob helped me find the humor in any number of situations; I like to think that I returned the favor.

Rob’s dedication to beautifying his new Jackson Heights neighborhood wasn’t a surprise. He was proud of being a New Yorker and was knowledgeable about his adopted hometown. Walking back together from a Union Square theater to my midtown hotel was like getting a private tour of the city’s architecture and history. And when he launched himself into photography, I saw corners of the city and moments in its daily life that would have inevitably eluded me.

The two times I missed Rob most acutely this summer were in mid-June, when he was supposed to join me at “Cabaret,” and in mid-July, when I attended “Georgia O’Keeffe: My New Yorks” at, ironically, the Art Institute of Chicago. The combination of O’Keeffe’s artistry with a curatorial focus on the buildings she lived in, portrayed, or painted from—complete with maps and photos of 1920s Manhattan—would have sent Rob into rapturous appreciation. I hated that he wasn’t there with me—and that he wouldn’t be able to keep our next theater date so I could tell him all about it.

Speaking of missed performances: There were times when flight delays meant I couldn’t get to a show. If Rob was unable to substitute for me, he’d spend hours trying to track down someone who would; it usually turned out to be a friend who loved theater, but could rarely indulge in a front-orchestra seat. I may have supplied the ticket, but Rob was the giving hand in these instances and in so many others.

I will always treasure the love I felt for Rob, as well as the trust that it was amply returned. Indeed, at two points over the years when Russell and I were seriously considering moving to New York, Rob became our biggest cheerleader. He was genuinely thrilled that this might happen, and our concerns were greatly assuaged by his enthusiasm. Russell and I are far from ready to release that love, that support, that keenness, that kindness. We will miss him dearly and always.