For those who asked, I'm the seaweed guy . . . 

Dusty Mercer

To the family - our sincere sympathy at your loss.  We are Nancy Bowden's friends in Toronto, Canada, and had such a nice visit with Bob Sr. in Toronto.
Thinking of you.
Susann (DBM colleague) and Richard Chamberlain.

I met Rob in High School and never had a better friend.  As others have said Rob was the kind of guy you always wanted to be around.  Rob was always fun and I can say I was never boarded in his presence.  Rob was a year ahead of me in high school.  In high school that was a highly elevated status.  I called Rob - Roberto, Robbie or Kressie.  He was one of those friends that have no replacement.

 We were lab partners in Physics and took great joy in writing up lab notes  that had little if any scientific merit, but Rob would dictate the writing as if it was the Magna Carta with an ever present contagious smile and smirk.  We would write to our audience, a young physics teacher.  Rob would say something like – “she likes the word BTU, use BTU somewhere in the beginning.”  I can't remember if we got A's or even passed, but I know we had fun.

Rob introduced me to many high school parties. If I walked in a party and saw my “big brother” I was at home.  Rob also introduced me to life at the Jersey Shore - Avalon.  For many years we rented summer beach houses together with various groups of sand encrusted lifeguards.  Rob worked as lifeguard and I worked as a bartender at night and at a liquor store during the day.    This enabled us to have a fully stocked frig with all the beer we could consume.  One of the most memorable houses we rented was located at 335 39th Street.  This house was called the bird house.  It was almost falling down, but had a dock on the marsh complete with an open aired boat house that housed weekend visitors.  Many great times were had at this house, which has long gone the way of the wrecking ball – one pass was all it took.  The shore was our escape, our real world, our playroom, our life lesson, our home without parents.

Rob loved the shore and he loved lifeguarding.   He would sit high on the guard chair and preach to young girls who looked up at him wide eyed.   Rob loved to talk and would get on the deepest topics with ease and comfort.  He was not a philosopher, but loved to joke around with people.  He explored people's thoughts and dared them to get in a meaningful conversation that brought out their real personality.    I remember so many laughs and fun times with my good friend.   

On breaks from the shore I attended college in Ohio.  I was surprised in the school library one night cramming for an exam to look up and see Rob and Scott Luse standing together  to catch me off guard.  They stood there bigger than life in Avalon lifeguard t-shirts with broad smiles as wide as Ohio.   They were traveling cross country and made Wooster, Ohio a required stop.   I quickly through my books aside and convened a large party to introduce my good friends to my college buddies who have heard the many stories of our time at the shore.  What a great night.  The next day I sat in my Political Science final exam looking at a pile of blue books on my desk with a heavy head wondering how I would ever fill just one.   I look up at the arm chair Marxist professor and smiled.  I took a page out of Rob's book and said “He seems to like the word Proletariat, use that in the beginning”.

After the shore years were over Rob and I stayed in touch for a while.  I worked in Saudi Arabia for two years and returned to Gladwyne to decide what to do next.  Rob visited our home regularly.  My Mother was fond of parties and Rob was frequent guest.  Rob got along well with my other friends and my Mothers friends as well.    I had was starting a job in DC and Rob was between apartments, so he moved into my room in Gladwyne and accompanied my Mother to several of the “older persons” parties were he was the life of the party.  One night, Mother misspoke at a neighbor's party and said “oh that's Rob, he lives with me”.    She had to laugh at the shocked face of the person she just met and took a puff of her cigarette and said nothing.

I am sure Rob made a great Army Officer.  He had certain ways of doing things and he wanted it to be the right way.  Whether it was folding laundry or cleaning dishes.   Above all, however, Rob valued friends and could always be depended on no matter what the cost.  He was what I think the Army calls a foxhole buddy.  Like those old war movies with two soldiers in fox hole in terrible danger – they knew they could depend on each other at all costs.  Those friendships are very few, but last forever no matter what.

 I see and remember Rob now elevated as he was on that lifeguard stand.  The impact he had on me is endless - His soul and personality lives on as what he unselfishly shared and that always remains.  I have a debt of gratitude for that and am better for it.

When I think of Rob I have a ton of great memories of him but I know what I will truly miss will be the goofy greetings we always had for each other. Any phone call or meeting began with my calling him ROBERTO!! And he would reply my name with a strangely endearing, almost stuttering drawn out: Weeeeeeeeessssssss. 

Not quite nicknames but 2 things 2 good buddies made up for each other because, well that's what buddies do. 

Until it's my time to see you over the big horizon, I hope you found peace buddy or should I say ROBERTO! You will be missed. Your amigo, Weeeeeeeessssssss

To the Kress Family: I was very shocked and upset to hear the news regarding Rob.  I always enjoyed spending time with the Kress Family from playing squash with Nancy to being a friend to Rob and serving with him the National Guard.  Rob and I went to Basic Training together in 1985 at Fort Knox, KY.  As you may or may not know, Basic training is extremely mentally and physically taxing.  Rob and I leaned on each other reminiscing about home and what we would do upon our Basic Training graduation.  Mr. Kress picked us up, and we were never more happy to see him and he took us to get a fresh cooked meal and a beer.  We were never so happy to be released from the Drill Instructors clutches.  Upon the conclusion of Basic Training, Rob was awarded The Patton Award  for outstanding soldier.  There was never a more deserving person!!  Rob, I always enjoyed spending time with you and will miss you.  Jay

We mourn your loss.  Mary and I, and our three children, remember Rob as a brave soldier, a wonderful friend, and most importantly, a very good man.  We will always remember his many kindnesses, and his wonderful presence at family gatherings.  We know that he is now with our saviour

To the Family of LTC Kress 
I extend my condolences and deepest sympathy in the loss of your family member.  LTC Kress was a fellow Soldier and this is a great loss to our military family.  
MSG Pamela Harris- 78th Training Division (OPS)

Rob was a good officer and a friend.  We will certainly miss him.  Prayers for his family and loved ones.

we so love the memory of the clam digging this so embraces rob will the author please  identify him/herself so we may share in other wonderful memories of rob xoxo rob's family

The Clam Diggers

 

It was an overcast July morning in Stone Harbor as the blue green waves lazily crashed onto the shoreline. Robbie and I were walking along the beach around 86th Street when my 10 year old best friend said something outlandish.

            Do you know how to find clams? he asked.

            Find clams? I thought clams just sort of turned up on their own –  I mean, um, what are you talking about?

            Just look for a piece of seaweed sticking out from the sand, dig down, and you'll find a clam, Robbie said with his ever-present grin.

            I shook my head almost in pain at his idiotic statement. I'd walked at this beach for years, seen lots of seaweed, dug lots of holes, found my paltry share of clams, and I knew that if finding clams were as easy as just looking for a piece of seaweed sticking out of the sand, well, then the whole world would be out collecting clams.

            Robbie, you're crazy, I said.

            No! It works, he said.

            I rolled my eyes. No sooner had my gaze returned to earth did he run down the beach, find a three-inch piece of seaweed sticking out of the sand and dig up a clam. See!?!? he said. A clam!

            No, I thought, bizarre good luck is more like it. Still, he did find a clam. I casually walked down the beach thinking little of his find when I came across a piece of green seaweed innocently floating in a half inch of the receding surf. What the hell. I knew it wouldn't work. But I dug anyway. My chubby fingers went down only an inch or so when there it was, a clam! Well, this is strange, I thought. Hey, Robbie! I got one! I yelled. I held it up like a Super Bowl trophy, pocketed it and went off to look for another.

            Robbie came running down. See!?! I told you, he said. More like sheer luck, I thought, as he went off to look for some more. I walked along the beach when not ten feet away I saw another emerald ponytail lying flat in the sand. This will not happen again, I thought as I dug down. But nope. Another clam! This was crazy.

            Found another! Robbie yelled from down the beach. We now had four clams. Four more clams than I had ever found in my entire life. It might as well have been forty. 

            Was this for real? I walked down the beach a little further. More seaweed. And another clam underneath. Holy smokes, we were onto something, Then Robbie shouted out, I got another clam!

            We ran up to each other holding six clams in our tiny hands when we realized, We need a bucket! 

There's a bucket back at the towel, he said. 

Grab it! I said, and as he dashed off for the red plastic pail I started scouring the area.

            Another seaweed, another clam. We headed down the beach now with a good fifteen clams in our bucket. I looked up towards the city and saw we were now on 90th  street, farther down the beach than I had ever gone before. And the clams kept on coming. We were laughing, giddy, as the clams were everywhere. 100th Street. More clams. Clams just for the asking whenever there was a shred of seaweed popping up. I looked up again. 107 th Street. And now a good thirty or forty clams in our heavy bucket.

            We sat down. Robbie, this is crazy! I said. How did you find out about this!?!? 

            My dad told me, he said.

            How come this incredibly easy trick had been kept from me all my life? I wondered. I looked over. Saw some seaweed. Dug. No clam. And then I dug some more. Oh no. No clams? And then six inches down – of course –  more clams! Three of them!

            By now the pail was so heavy we could barely carry it. Full of clams. Sixty or so, if not many more.

            So what do you do with sixty clams (and growing) I wondered? Let's feed the seagulls! Robbie said, his eyes shining.

            Again, I was lost. You crack the shell, he said. On a rock. And then throw up the clam. They eat them right out of the sky!

            Oh, man, he is absolutely nuts. Don't they have to be cooked? I thought. Who is going to eat a raw clam? 

            Robbie ran over to a jetty and cracked open one of our quarry on the giant rocks. He scooped out the slimy grey innards and tossed it high into the sky. Out of nowhere came a seagull's shrill cry as it loped down from the clouds and caught the slithery thing in its beak like an aerial acrobat.

            Sweet holy . . .  this was better than, better than...finding sixty clams!! I thought, as a cloud of seagulls now filled the sky. Crack! went the shell against the black jetty rocks as I dug out the once happy-as-a-clam clam and sent it airborne. And damn if two hundred million seagulls weren't now flying over us gobbling up fresh clams right out of the air just like my buddy said they would. I'd never seen such a thing. Why don't we do this every year?

            Robbie, we're pretty far away, I nervously said as he started farther down the beach in search of more clams. I've never been as far as 107th Street. We gotta turn back, I said hesitantly.

            Every year I was given stern instructions never to venture past 90th Street and now here we were practically in another country. Maybe Robbie's parents allowed him to go further down than I was allowed to go, I didn't know, but we had to turn back. And then somehow I knew that Rob was a more adventurous soul than I. More playful. More, well, more daring. I was a ten year old husky to his ten year old trim and muscular. I was a ten year old obedient to his ten year old adventurous.

            Go back? he said, thoroughly confused. Why??

            Yeah, I said, nodding my head. Look, man, we're like at 107th Street!

            He shrugged his shoulders. OK, sure, he said, still bewildered.

            And so we headed back. Cracking open dozens and dozens of clams and hurling them into the sky to a hornet's nest of squealing seagulls as we giggled like millionaires throwing away their fortunes with unabashed glee.

            By 89th Street our pail was empty. But our hearts were full. I had learned a secret of the sea beyond all measure from my friend and was now floating in a kind of dream world.

            That night at dinner I told my parents what Robbie and I had done, not letting on that we had gone down as far as 107th Street. You found what?!? How many?!? You should have brought them home, Mom said, we would have eaten them.

            Eaten raw clams? Say what?!? Eeeuw... Yeah, right. 

            Well, next time, I said.

 

            Years later, on the same beach, on any beach, on every beach, I tried the same trick. Look for the seaweed. Dig. And bring up a clam. But it never worked. Only on that one magical day with Robbie when something said, Let them have fun. Let them have an eternal magical memory. Let them feed the above with their laughter and joy.

I have wonderful memories of Rob. I remember spending the night on his boat and trying to navigate the Chesapeake with a motor that wasn't quite working, I remember time in the Poconos as he learned to fly fish, I remember black tie affairs and his ever present smile, I remember fireworks in back of his house in Berwyn, and his teaching my son Adam about the church. Rob was complex but he was fun and a good friend. We all loved him and will miss him very much but one day we will be together again.

Rob and I shared many adventures togeather over the last 30 years.  . Rob had honor, integrity and was loyal to all his family and  friends.  Life was always better with Rob around because Rob enjoyed the simple pleasures in  life as a sportsman, athlete, outdoorsman and  soldier. Rob was the guy you wanted to go fishing with, have on your team or be in charge of your soldiers. He never spoke ill of anyone or was mean.   Rob was one of the good guys.  Kip Lamason- Friend

Shocked and saddened. My thoughts are with the family.

To the family of Rob Kress, we send you our deepest sympathy.  Rob was a welcome new member to the Trinity Presbyterian Church family and his kind heart will be greatly missed.  I am blessed to have known him for the short time.

My sweet brother-you will always be with us.RIP and now pain free

I could hardly the sad news of Robbie's death.  It's an understatement to say that my heart just hurts for the family, his fiancé, and his many friends and colleagues.  

I've been recalling many wonderful memories of the Jersey shore and Philadelphia, and visualizing Robbie as I knew him:  a little boy…  sweet, goofy, and happy.  Curious, I looked him up on the internet and found some wonderful photos of him as an honor guard.  I was also impressed to learn that he had achieved the rank of Lieutenant Colonel and had been awarded the Bronze Star for meritorious service.  A true Kress.  

The Kress family has always had a special place in my heart, and always will.  May this very difficult time be eased by the support of family and friends, and softened with memories of happier times.

LTC Kress was someone I had not seen in a long time but have fond memories of.  He is counted in the group I think of as my Army Family.  He was a good leader and mentor and I am honored to have had the priviledge to work with him.  My condolences to his family on their loss.

SSG Emily Williamson 744th MP BN

Rob,
  I was honored to help you as much as I could with your career.  You, like myself really believed in the brotherhood of the officer corps.  I was honored to work with you.  You always gave me a heroes welcome and I am truly grateful to have served with you.

With The Best of God's Grace and My Very Best Always, Your brother in the Officer Corps,

LTC Dan Bohr

To the Family of LTC Kress:
We grieve with you and send you our deepest sympathy on the loss of our colleague and your Family member. Our thoughts and prayers are sent with our wishes of peace.

I was so glad to have seen Robbie recently. We shared a million memories like it had only been a few days since we last saw one another. I am forever so grateful that he thought of contacting me. I truly regretted that we were separated by the length of the state. We had a superb childhood together and those wonderful times will stay with me forever. Rob, you're still the greatest. Peace, brother.

To the family of Lt. Col. Robert L. Kress, Jr., Thank you for the devoted service of your son, brother, uncle and beloved fiance.  I am sorry for your loss and although a complete stranger, recognize the depth of sadness you are experiencing.  May precious memories of his life bring you comfort, and may the thoughts and prayers of others such as myself bring you peace.  God Bless America.

OBITUARY

Robert L. Kress Jr.

12 January, 1956 – 19 August, 2012

Alleva Funeral Home, Inc.

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