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Robert “Bob-O” Ridge – got a Tybee send-off today. Scores gathered at the Tybee Pier for a service, and bikes were ridden to the Community Park in honor of Robert. Prayers, remembrances, laughter, song, tears, and food came together. It’s that way in the South. You may not have known him by name. However, you probably saw him. He often rode his 3-wheel bike along 80, sporting his latest quirky T-shirt, a safety vest with a purple belt, and the American flag trailing in the wind on special occasions. If he ever met you and you had a dog, he always asked for the dog’s name. One day at Jaycee Park, I walked Calista shortly after we rescued her. When people we met asked if they could pet her, we warned folks that she could be a nipper. She, like me, has PTSD. She is not predictable. No worries. Robert approached and asked her name, which I shared. She sat down, I warned him, and he smiled. Then, without command, she lay down. They communed for a minute. He let her smell his hand, scratched her head, and smiled. And I felt relieved as he wandered over to shoot basketball. Some say that Bob-O was a “special needs” person. That day at the park is when I understood Robert and his specialness. Dogs and people like Robert can teach us a lot about life. Many in the community acknowledged the need to care for Robert because that is how Tybee is. His friend, Eric at Huccapoos, who hired him, tells of the day that Robert took a basket of remote controls and quickly tuned all the TVs at the pizza hangout to the March Madness games, a task that had frustrated Eric for hours. As Eric said, he was “special,” and I needed him. Not knowing Robert means you missed an opportunity to enjoy innocence and sweetness and a love for adventure every given day. Every day was his favorite day. And every encounter was memorable. As Robert replied once when a doctor asked if he knew what his special needs diagnosis was, “Yes, I am fat.” Robert had diabetes. Watching his diet was off his radar. It was common for Robert to show up at Chu’s and lay 2 liters of Mountain Dew on the counter along with candy and hostess cupcakes. The clerk would call Eric, and Eric would tell Robert to put everything back on the shelf, and reluctantly, Robert would. The restauranteurs ensured he didn’t always get the fried chicken with gravy and french fries. Diabetics are not known for eating well. We have one in the family. One Tybee fellow regularly called Robert to his home, washed his feet, and trimmed his nails. Dr. Jess at Tybee Teeth cared for his dental needs; Tim’s Fat Tire Bike kept his ride pristine, and Breezy Taxi carried him home safely when needed from the bar. Robert, without knowing, brought the community together at a time when community was needed. That was a “community need” met by a “special” person. Rich or poor, white or black, male or female, straight or gay, democrat or republican, Robert didn’t care. Robert loved life and people. No reservations. No qualifications. I agree with his friend Eric; we all need to love more like Robert because that would be the most special thing we can do in his honor. Rest in peace, Bob-O. I hope I see you again one day — and when I do, we will ride. You’re the point man, brother.