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I learned Sunday that my oldest friend in the world, Robert Freedman, had passed away a few days earlier. Except for my mother and my younger brother, I’d known him longer than anyone on the planet—54 years, which is a startling length of time to contemplate.
We were in the same kindergarten class at Brooklyn’s P.S. 238, and continued together in the same class through the 5th grade. We were inseparable, with a similar sense of humor, always competing for the title of class clown. We’d trade whatever jokes we’d heard from comedians the night before on TV, which meant we were often chastised by teachers for talking too much or laughing too loud. But that wasn’t going to stop either of us from getting to the punchline of whatever joke Henny Youngman had told on The Ed Sullivan Show the night before!
After I’d completed the 5th grade, my family moved from Ocean Parkway to Canarsie, which to a kid of our ages at that time was like having moved to Mars. We didn’t see each other as often, but did keep in touch with phone calls that lasted for hours. We were still friends a decade later, when I married in 1976 and included him in my wedding party.
That’s Bob on the far right. (And my brother and friend Allan Grosman on either side of me.)
We remained in touch over the years, and would have deli from time to time as long as I continued to live in New York, but because I bounced around to Massachusetts then Maryland and now West Virginia, while he remained in Brooklyn, eventually our opportunities to physically occupy the same space became fewer. But we did manage to get together when I visited New York, such as in this picture from 2003. Sadly, these seem to be our only two joint photos.
When we’d get together, it would be as if no time had passed. Even though we had become different people with different interests—I’d have trouble telling you which teams competed in the most recent Super Bowl, for example, while Bob followed sports, especially his beloved New York teams, passionately, and was even a season ticket holder who tailgated—the connection was still there.
Learning of Bob’s death, I was reminded of that famous line from Stand By Me: “I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anybody?” Well, we knew each other long before we were twelve, and there was a closeness that remained regardless of the differing directions of our lives.
We had a wonderful time when Bob visited us a few years back, and when we last spoke we were making plans for him to visit again during the spring. He played the guitar, and was tickled by my growing interest in the ukulele. We looked forward to jamming together this year, an opportunity which is now forever lost. But since Sunday, I’ve been strumming songs in his memory. I’ll continue doing that today.
As well as thinking back on old Henny Youngman jokes, like this one, which I can close my eyes and see myself leaning forward during class one day to whisper in Bob’s ear—
A man comes home and finds the family car in the dining room. “How did you get the car in here?” he asks his wife. “Easy,” she says. “I took a left at the kitchen.”
You laughed then, Bob. I can imagine you laughing now.
Farewell. Rest in peace.
I had only known Bob about 8 years… He became an instant friend.. Jets fan, Mets fan, Ranger fan we always talked about our teams.. To say he was a menche, is an understatement.. .. We had a love for the same crazy movie, Clockwork Orange, and would quote from that movie… A great guitar player, I would sit in on Friday nights with his friends Gary and Al and listen to him play that Stratocaster with such ease… Three great musicians, and by watching him and Al, I had learned so much from Bob.. (as well as Mr Charney .. He would usually call me every week around 7 :25 Pm, and our conversations would always last about an hour plus.. Funny wasn’t the word to describe Bob, more like hilarious .. I always thought he should have become a stand -up comic.. “One more thing” he would say before hanging up the phone, and that one more thing might last 25 minutes lol…. My lasting memory of him was when he told a funny joke and that funny laugh that he had , and he high fived me.. I hope the Jets win the super bowl this year so Bob will smiling down on us all… THats the way I want to remember Robert Alan Freedman..
RIP my dear friend… You deserve to…
I had only known Bob for about eight years, but I have considered him like a best friend.. His personality spoke volumnes, LOUD ones,, lol… We loved the Jets, Mets and Rangers.. and would be on the phone agonizing about our Jets.. Bob was a fantastic guitar player, and on friday nights I would sit in listening to him play with his buddies, Gary and Al.. I really learned a lot watching him play guitar as well as Mr Charney..
WE both had a love for the Clockwork Orange movie, and would often quote from it.., but best of all were the jokes .. Our phone conversations would last an average of 1 hour, and he would always say, ‘one more thing” and that thing would be another 20 minutes LOl.. I hope that the Jets win the Superbowl this year because I want to see a permanent smile on my friends face.. RIP, buddy… My memory of you telling a joke at Gary’s and having that crazy laugh and high fiving me is etched in my brain..
My dearest cousin Bob…
Bobby was one of my closest cousins. We’d talk often and he’d share stories about his most recent concert as well as the ones that we both enjoyed. He was “Bubbles” growing up. We spent many a Sunday’s at his house while growing up. When we spoke there was always a joke from him that was funny and corny at the same time. He always made me laugh. I will miss him and our conversations about music and the Mets. Heaven is a better place now that he is there with so many other loved ones.
Rest in peace my dear cousin.
Cousin Lynda
Bob and I met at old Giant stadium parking lot. We shared stories for the past 15 years. I am deeply saddened by his departure. RIP Jet Bob….
I knew Bob Freedman from our days together in the New York Chapter of the Order of DeMolay, a fraternity for teen-age boys under the umbrella of the Masonic Lodge. He was a very enthusiastic member and an all-around good guy. Always smiling and always volunteering to add his two cents and to pitch in to help. The last time I recall seeing Bob —before we met again on Facebook— was when he was pushing a car that had broken down on Flatbush Avenue near Brooklyn College. Some friends were assisting and he bade me to join in but I had a bus to catch. Adios, Bob! We’ll meet again in that chapter meeting in the sky.
Facebook just remind me of your essay. And I still can’t wrap my mind around the idea that he is no longer.
Linda Nires Sabat
Bobby was my youngest first cousin. His mom and my dad were siblings. I was also shocked and terribly saddened by his passing and I also went to P.S. 238 until we moved to The Bronx! (And you thought Canarsie was Mars!?). Thank you for sharing your wonderful memories of Bobby, and as his closest friend, you have my sincerest sympathies too!