As Carolyn's brother, I have known Rob for almost fifty years, and I have hundreds of wonderful memories of him. One that sticks out in my mind seems, in and of itself, quite trivial. But it illustrates one of Rob’s qualities that I most admired. He and Carolyn were visiting Marilyn and me out here in Washington State. One day we spent a day in the Hoh Rain Forest on the Olympic Peninsula. Rob and I were walking side by side down a paved trail, when he stopped for a moment, pointed to the gnarly roots of a huge western red cedar tree, which precisely followed the contour of the trail for several yards. "Look," he said, in that tone of sheer delight at the wonderfulness of things that so often marked his speech, "at how those roots have grown parallel with the macadam!" To which I replied, "Either that," I replied, as evenly as I could, "or the roots were already there, and the rangers laid the trail beside them." Rob burst into one of those magical peals of laughter of his. He possessed such good-natured humility and hearty self-acceptance, that he felt no embarrassment at his own momentary foolishness. There is no one as frivolous as the person who takes himself too seriously. And there is no one as truly sober--in the best AA sense of the word--as the person who can laugh at his own mistakes. G. K. Chesterton once said that the reason angels can fly is that they take themselves so lightly. I feel quite sure that they have welcomed Rob into their blessed company, for even in this life he possessed their gracious levity.