Robert Fredrick Henn Sr.

Robert Fredrick Henn, Sr. — a man of not-too-many mysteries, but nevertheless known under the aliases Bob, GPB (“Grandpa Bob”), Bobby (it began as a joke but then spread to others innocent of the joke), El Bobby (really, it got out of hand), and Mr. Robert — died on March 14, 2026. He had turned 87 about a month previous.

He was born in Kansas City, MO on February 6, 1939 and was soon adopted by Georgia and John Henn. He grew up with his beloved younger sister Janice (later married to Ridge Cooper) in Evanston, IL and then Glen Rock, NJ. He married Katherine Murphy in 1965 and they welcomed daughter Kyron (later married to Philip Arambula) in 1968 and son Rob (Junior) in 1972. Katherine passed away in August 1990, leaving him bereft. He found a happy second act in life when he married Mary Byram in January 2004, truly the best thing that could have happened to him. He also gained a much-loved step-daughter Mary and her husband Dennis Cregan in the process. His grandchildren Katherine (McCoy, by Kyron’s first marriage), Donovan (Arambula), and Brennan (Cregan) gave him great joy.

From the earliest age Bob loved science and technology. He built a chemistry “lab” in his parents’ furnace room, and not long after discovered his life-long love of photography — the furnace room “lab” was soon joined by a “dark room” carved out of the laundry. He loved science fiction novels, and in college he studied engineering and majored in philosophy.

His talent for photography led him to a stint as a semiprofessional wedding photographer in the 1980s. He was wise to let his photos do the talking, chiefly: asked once about the bride’s attire, he offered that she “wore white.” Fashion was not his focus, for others or himself.

Growing up, his mother thought him a talented singer. Generations of church-goers and family who stood next to him at the Good Shepherd in Midland Park, NJ, or St. Joseph’s Episcopal in McDonough, GA, knew better. Much better. Outside of photography, the arts were never his forte, truth be told. He liked country music mainly because he could understand the words, he said. Yep.

After college Bob earned his JD and practiced law for several decades. But his true passion was always computing. When personal computers emerged in the 1980s, he was an early adopter, and he could soon be seen zooming around town with the “portable,” 25-pound Osborne 1 in the rear basket of his moped. He would lug it and the 12-pound printer on his children's school-sponsored band exchange programs, tracking every child’s activities and lodging arrangements with the help of his SuperCalc spreadsheet and frequently updated dot-matrix printouts. He taught rudimentary computer programming to his children, and later involved grandchild Donovan in equipment repair projects. In retirement he enjoyed working at Staples selling computers. He had a side hustle — into his early 80s! — building computers from the ground up for sale.

His love language, we would now say, was acts of service. He helped uncomplainingly with every single one of his wife and children’s many sports, music, theater, and community activities in the 1970s and 1980s. Later Mary was the beneficiary of Bob’s unfailing largesse in household and other projects. Despite his distaste for the beach, he would go regularly, because Mary loved it. (He’d read a book while planted in a beach chair, decked out in jeans and a long sleeve shirt no matter the temperature — see the point about him and fashion above.) He took his grandchild Katherine to her beloved Wendy’s so much that he and her mother had to invent a code name (“Dave’s daughter”) to discuss the restaurant in front of her. He never said no to someone in need of help.

He loved and supported the NY Giants. They typically needed more help than he could give.

He loved his community just as he loved his family and friends. He served on the Midland Park, NJ Board of Education in the 1970s, and then the Town Council from 1979 to 1990. In his McDonough, GA years, he served officially as Treasurer of his homeowner’s association at Winslow at Eagle’s Landing, and unofficially as the tech support department for St. Joseph’s Episcopal.

His political beliefs were consistent no matter how the national parties shifted views around him. While fervently believing in the importance of public education and other public goods, he nevertheless believed with Thoreau that “that government is best which governs least.” The government had no business intruding in citizen’s private lives so long as no harm was being done to others. He opposed war and violence except as a last resort; his children were even forbidden from playing with toy guns. He believed in the power of ordinary people to force their governments to change when needed. He enthusiastically recounted how nonviolent civil disobedience powered the civil rights movement, and considered it important that his 10- and 14-year-old children sit through the over three hour movie of Gandhi’s life in 1982.

One talent he undoubtedly held, observed since at least middle age, was his ability to fall asleep near instantly, under any circumstance, in any chair, no matter how uncomfortable. This prompted his son-in-law Philip to create a loving portrait series of Bob sleeping soundly in various slumped positions. “Niiiiiiiii-ghty night, Bob,” Philip would intone as he snapped the photo.

Bob’s gone now, and we loved him. Now you know something about him, you may have come to love him too, at least a bit. We miss him immensely, and it’s hard to know the world will no longer receive his selfless help.

Nighty night, Bob. Sleep well, and more comfortably.

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A memorial service will be announced as soon as possible. In lieu of flowers, please make a donation to the American Diabetes Association.