Bob Winbigler held a huge presence as Patti, Rob, Austin and I navigated life in the East Bay for 27 years. We shared many important moments in our kids’ journey in the Orinda Community Church as well as life, whether teaching Sunday School, discussing their future in this crazy world or spending amazing annual adventures in places like Yosemite and Cazadero. More importantly, he was a mentor and confidant to me, always available and providing a fresh (and often Midwestern) perspective to whatever we discussed.

While we didn’t start our friendship in the OCC choir, we certainly experienced some great times while singing. He enjoyed his music, whether it was traditional church, campfire songs, Dixieland jazz or just some classic rock. But dressing up with Chris Mead and Bob and singing as one of the three kings in many OCC Christmas pageants was the highlight of my singing career!

In our early years at OCC, we always knew Bob was at church if his white work truck was in the parking lot. In our later years, we could count on the quiet roar of his blue Challenger to announce his arrival or departure. His true loves for transporting him anywhere were his Harley Davidsons. If I was in his car coming home from a church retreat, he would always notice a Harley - we both loved listening to the bike pass us. He even educated me of the Harley owner’s two fingers down gesture, which meant “ride safe”.

Sharing a meal with the Winbiglers was always a treat. Good food and drink were plentiful, as were heartfelt discussions. In our minds, we solved a lot of our country’s and church’s issues. A meal with Bob was never complete without a good joke told by Bob. As I recounted with Bab’s recently, his “pig with a wooden leg” joke was my favorite. He had a delivery that rivaled some of the best comedians!

We moved from the Bay Area in 2018, but Bob was always in our hearts. A trip back to Orinda was not complete without a trip to see Bob. While his health was failing, his wry sense of humor and love for companionship was always present. His passing has left a huge hole in our hearts, as well as all those he touched. Our love will always be with the Winbigler family, as will our cherished memories.  

Saying good bye to Bob no matter his  relationship with you as husband, father, relative or friend must have been extremely difficult.  Bob was a man who loved you all so very much.  He will be with you forever in your heart.

 Grief is the unexpected loss of the presence of your loved one.

Blessings

Kathi Kling

Dear Babs and Kurt and Kate -

I’m so sorry I can’t be with you on Sunday   

I know how sad and lonely it feels to lose your partner, and Dad.  I have great memories of Bob in many different situations and events. It was always an experience!!  He is already missed at OCC and I hope to see you there soon

Sincerely, 

Nancy Peterson 

Jeane joins me in expressing admiration and gratitude for a life well lived and for the pleasure we derived in knowing Bob and experiencing his insightful mind, his dry wit, his devotion to his family, his many contributions to Orinda Community Church.

Bob and I became especially close in recent years as we frequently gathered over lunch with Pete Hartdegen and Les Simmonds, often in Bob and Bab’s backyard or in their dining room. We shared surgeries we were facing (all too many for Bob), losses of loved ones and friends (one of our lunches was days after Liz Simmonds passed away in 2022), moves we had made or were contemplating (Pete’s move to St. Paul’s Towers was our model), current maintenance projects at OCC (I listened attentively as Bob, Pete, and Les drew upon their expertise to resolve issues), and the state of affairs in our country. But we also shared stories of our childhoods (on one occasion, we talked about the first cars we owned), stories of recent adventures, stories of our children and grandchildren. Throughout, I so valued Bob’s questions, his interest in what each of us had to offer, his warm personality, his wisdom. And I do not recall his ever complaining about the pain and disability he was living with. I treasure a message he sent at one stage: "It was great to see you guys, it was the most fun I’ve had in a very long time.”

Rest in peace, my friend.

Times were tough after the 1995 High Noon shoot out when our three-Person co- equal ministerial team were asked to resign, leaving Orinda Community Church (OCC) shocked and uncertain as to our church’s future direction.

At that point I got to know Bob better, experiencing his brilliance and churchly wisdom. I served with him on a Pastoral Search Committee that eventually recommended calling Rev. Frank Baldwin in April 1998 as a solo Senior Minister. Our committee of ten verbally sparred over everything—we couldn’t vote, only persuade one another until consensus emerged (OCC really knew how to experiment with organizational norms back then!)

Bob was in his element with his strong opinions and deadpan wit. He championed the angels who valued sacred music over praise music. “Only heathens would call a minister wanting bouncing balls on a huge TV screen,” And Bob, likely as not, led the charge to make church growth job number one. That meant attracting young families knee deep in children.

Beyond bonding during the long hours of different committee work, Bob and I also clicked during OCC programs for kids (mine were about the same ages as Kurt and Kate). So we ‘heathens” would occasionally sneak wine at Advent craft-and-song events and say, at Camp Caz and Yosemite retreats after the kids ones were tucked in, “Our lord, we drink this only as an act of worship.’

Over the decades I deeply appreciated Bob’s support for my various writing and painting efforts. He applauded my academic books—especially Police and Society, perhaps because he barely missed being beaten at the 1968 Democratic Convention. He also supported my commercial books, attending (with Babs) one of my first bookstore events for Cleft Heart at Walnut Creek’s Barnes & Noble. Bob did tease me about the gall I had displaying a painting of Charles Manson in OCC’s sanctuary as part of my Heroes, Villains, and Fools exhibit, but it was a good-natured complaint, Bob-style.

The only health complaint I remember Bob making before his foot troubles was an offhand remark that an unusual number of people close to him had contracted cancers of various sorts. It felt like a quiet acknowledgment that his life already carried its share of health challenges. Little did I know—though Bob may have—that he himself might one day join the ranks of those who endure more pain and suffering, more stoically, than most of us.

I had hoped to spend time with Bob during our sunset years. I know Kurt and Kate will miss him greatly; having lost my own father in my thirties, I understand their loss all too well. My thoughts go out to them, and of course to Babs.

Bob was taken from us far, far too soon.

Rest in peace, Bob, free of pain at last.