Robby
Robby was one of my oldest friends, the kind of friend that is so intertwined in your life that you don’t remember anything existing before you knew them.
Robby was one of a few people in the world who could remember every one of my childhood birthday parties…
Robby was one of a few people who knew all the same church songs, scriptures, and shows and rules that went along with them…
Robby was one of a few people in my life who would remember the songs and scriptures we were required to sing, memorize, and recite and would remember the shows we were parentally banned from watching like the Incredible Hulk, and Dukes of Hazard after they became a Friday night ritual for the under 10 crowd.
Robby was one of a few people who grew up in the same world where we fed the ducks in the backyard, skipped stones on the Nantahala River, sang along with. my dad by the piano as he dressed in some outrageous garb, and savored chocolate Frosty at Wendy’s every Sunday night after church.
Robby was one of a few, but Robby was one in a million.
As we grew older, and Robby’s Muscular Dystrophy progressed, the confines of his physical world got smaller, but he worked tirelessly to ensure that his spiritual, creative, emotional, and intellectual world got larger and more expansive day by day.
In his life and in his death, Robby Cuttler is a challenge to the many implicit and explicit ways our culture defines “what it means to live”.
In many ways, Robby was a contradiction to our limited view of life:
He never ceased to pray for his own healing, and yet somehow he was a healer who encouraged all who were fortunate enough to be close to his sweet smile, compassionate listening heart, and the blessings and encouragement he offered with his words.
He didn’t have a passport but he was a world traveler through his engagement with literature, geography, the news, and history.
He didn’t attend concerts, but he was. diehard fan of many musicians and groups with an unparalleled knowledge of their work obtained from scouring the internet and listening to volumes of recordings that ranged from unusual and rare to popular.
He didn’t attend film festivals but he was a worthy critic of multiple genres, his insights rivaling those of the paid insiders.
He never published a book, but he was a prolific writer of poetry, spinning words into beautiful fabrics of meaning and purpose.
He lived in Titusville, Florida, but he communicated his thinking about life as a fully informed global citizen who never lost sight of God’s love and God’s plan for humanity while witnessing the mysterious events taking place on our world’s stage.
He never visited me in my adult home of New York City, but we spoke of it often and particular neighborhoods he was interested in and yet somehow I imagine him everywhere, performing in cafes with live poetry readings, perusing the galleries at the Met, having conversations with the most creative minds after concerts and films that end late in the night.
Our conversations were always too short, our emails too infrequent to capture all the things I wished to learn from him. As I have encountered experiences in life that expand my heart, mind, and spirit, Robby has been a silent conversant of sorts as I frequently picture him and imagine what he would think about some particular event, film, artist, song, poem, or book. I will always regret the books I have not finished reading to discuss with him, the films I have not seen, and the songs I have not heard as those few moments of sharing a connection with him were priceless. But Robby will live on in my heart, mind, and spirit eternally as the Renaissance Man that he was.
As true as it is that we all, and Robby himself more than anyone else, longed for a life of physical movement in his whole body, I say to you today in his honor and memory that we should all consider that this dear soul accomplished more during his time on earth than our cultural constraints allow us to imagine. For I believe that Robby found in the words of Rilke, a German Poet, that “the only journey is within” and I believe he would agree with Rilke’s admonition to us all: “You are not too old and it is not too late to dive into your increasing depths where life calmly gives out it’s own secret”.
Thank you Robby for sharing your journey and calmly living out such beautiful secrets about the purpose of life and love. You never stopped seeking, wondering, learning, and living, and in so doing you worshiped God, and loved us all unconditionally no matter how far we were from your bedside. I love you, Robby. Rest In Peace.