I knew Robert all his life, of course.  He was my brother.  In fact, most people on the West Coast knew him simply as “Brother Bob”.  And I probably knew him better than anyone.  From the time he knocked on my door at the age of 19, having left the hell of high school behind and starting the adventure that would be his life, he lived with me on and off for almost twenty-five years, through marriages and divorces, good times and bad, laughter and tears.  Fortunately, it was mostly laughter.  Bob was a jokester, a teller of humorous tales, and nothing made his day more than a round of laughs.  It was a trait we shared.  We also shared a love of the blues.  And after a little too much wine, I remember us wailing on harmonicas along with the likes of Eddie J. Son House, Big Joe Williams and Bukka White.  He even named the cows in the pasture across the street after them, greeting each by name as he left in the morning.  These blues singers and the jokes and double entendres of their racy lyrics became enduring frames of reference and touchstones of memory throughout our lives.

There were so many phases to Bob’s life.  For awhile he was fixing up old cars.  Chevys from the ‘40s and ‘50s and he had a ‘59 El Camino that had so many holes in the floorboard that you could watch the road race by between your feet.  And there was the Yugo which leaked so much oil that he would put a pan under the engine over night and just dump it back in the next morning.  Then it was vans, Dodges and VWs in which he crisscrossed the country.  He loved being on the move.  From joining a Black church baptism at a river in rural Mississippi to passing the summer with a Hungarian girl on Lake Balaton, Bob was a traveler.  He worked wine harvests in Australia and New Zealand, island hopped in Polynesia to Tahiti, Moreea, Bora-Bora and Bali, passed through South Africa from Cape Town to Victoria Falls, and then in his latter years spent summers in Eastern Europe.

Bob also loved the Sierra mountains, cross-country skiing into Peter Grubb Hut and hiking barefoot to Thousand Island Lake.  And speaking of bare, Bob streaked a graduation at his old high school while riding a motor scooter and ran naked through one of my friend’s birthday party much to her amusement.  Then there were Bob’s animals, Lola the goat who rode around Tampa in the passenger seat of his van and Woody the cockatiel who traveled coast to coast on his shoulder.  However, no matter where Bob lived, from the Rutherford Depot to Napa to Florida, one enduring passion beyond all others was flea markets and dumpster finds.  He collected so much stuff, brass fans, old bicycles, antiques that he had to rent a storage shed.  Some of it was just free crap that he couldn’t pass up, but the hunt was an eternal pleasure.  Part little boy who still found humor in bodily functions, part eccentric adult, that was Bob, always willing to go a little farther than most for a laugh or to push the envelope, to be beyond the expected and the ordinary.  
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       Bob was a true character.  People remember him.  And everyone who knew him has a Bob story. More than will be said for most of us.  By most conventional measures Bob could be considered a failure, but a certain richness ran through his life that at times I envied.  But burning a candle at both ends has a price and only Bob would know if it was worth it.  I have written this not for him, of course, he’s gone, but for me, a simple and incomplete recounting of some of the things that bound our lives together.  If it rekindles a memory or brings a smile or laugh for someone else, so much the better.


Dear Friend,
Your laughter will always be felt in my heart and soul---you have always been the "Great Uncle Bob" in Stephan's eyes---stories are still told of our travels to lands where we had  many adventures---Uncle Bob, you will be greatly missed. Deepest sympathy to Aunt Vicki and Grandpa Sandtner. Love, Stephan, Heidi & David

We skiied the Sierras, we canoed the Hillsbourgh River,
we hiked Muir Woods and Pt. Reyes National Park. Over the years we argued and we laughed. My life is definitely richer for having known you. Thank you Robert, may you rest in peace.

I had so many good times with Robert  He always used to make me laugh. We had so much fun riding around in Coors, his VW van, and camping, and hiking around in the woods...He was always such a decent person. He will be missed very much by all of his friends. My sympathies to his family. I know he was beloved by them as well.

Peace and deepest sympathy to you, Vicki, and your family. Always a friend. Love, Teresa.

One of my favorite hangouts in college was the trailer Robert lived in as caretaker of Nature's Classroom. There were always animals crawling around in the trailer, and he just let them. That was Robert.

Robert my long lost buddy, 
When I first heard of your passing I was dumb founded and couldn't believe it. I'm not a man of many words but I do want you to know how much you will be missed. I'm not sure if any of your family will remember me, but I consider those fun moments you and I had together very special and will always be dear to me. One of those special times was visiting you at you at your brother's house in the Napa Valley area. We drove uo to Donner's Pass and I think that's one of the most prettiest places I've ever seen. You were always a down-to-earth kind of a guy and I always enjoyed sharing the wilderness with you. I hope you reserve a special place for our future visit and say Hi to Jimi & Janis for us. We will cross paths again...Ken

Our deepest sympathy. Bob & Helen Foster family

Dear Robert, We visited with you many times over the years and always enjoyed your sense of Humor and Great Smile. You will be truly missed.
Cousin Carolyn & Mike Kubanek Longwood, Fla
.

Nature

As a fond mother, when the day is o'er,
Leads by the hand her little child to bed,
Half willing, half reluctant to be led,
And leave his broken playthings on the floor,
Still gazing at them through the open door,
Nor wholly reassured and comforted
By promises of others in their stead,
Which, though more splendid, may not please him more;
So Nature deals with us, and takes away
Our playthings one by one, and by the hand
Leads us to rest so gently, that we go
Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay,
Being too full of sleep to understand
How far the unknown transcends the what we know.

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
<a target="_blank" href="http://poetryfoundation.org/index.html">The Poetry Foundation</a>

Old friend, we have had many a laugh thru high school and since, a few tears as well. May your soul now be at peace. You will be dearly missed.

OBITUARY

Robert M. Sandtner

6 February, 1954 – 23 October, 2010

Garden Sanctuary Funeral Home & Cemetery

Show your support

Add a Memory

Share Obituary

Get Reminders

Services