Memories of Bob Written By His Grandkids

Today I want to start posting a couple eulogies that My Grandkids gave at Bob's memorial service.  I am so proud of them!  The first one was given by Paul Shriver, Carla and Jim's oldest son.  He lives in California now and is a script writer for trailers for games.  He has every young person's dream job.  He plays computer games all day!  Here is his speech:

Paul on horseback with his Grampa

My grandpa is going to go down as the stuff of American legends. Pecos Bill roping tornadoes, Paul Bunyun taming a blue ox, Teddy Roosevelt’s walking stick, and Bob Manville’s shirtless singing.

I’ve always seen him as a walking embodiment of the American West. The man in the cowboy boots who was never afraid. The man who beat cancer more times than XXX. The man who was king of the Cabin.

Like all legends, his passing from this world is almost mythical.

Bob still his optimistic self.

On his last Friday, the hospice people said he wouldn’t make it through the weekend. Ever the fighter, Friday night passed and he was still holding on. Saturday night came and went, Bob Manville was still with us. And then on Sunday, a couple hundred miles away, there appeared a raging storm cell on Wyoming Highway 450 between Wright and Newcastle. Stormchasers from Oklahoma tripped over themselves as they filmed this incredible image of the clouds sweeping majestically across the plains and then opening like the of eye of a cyclops.  This celestial cylinder descended from heaven to Earth. Or maybe going up from Earth toward the sky.

  

He made it through the weekend and died on a Monday. I like to think that that storm cell was Grandpa’s spirit taking one last victory lap across the West before departing to whatever’s next.

 

I’ve heard all these incredible second-hand stories of Grandpa from before I was born. Flying makeshift planes over precarious mountains, navigating onto unfinished dirt landing strips. He was a combat medic. He rode horses, four-wheelers, six-wheelers, three-wheelers, snow mobiles, Argos, trucks, tractors, blue WWII-era jeeps . Anything that could be steered, he guided expertly.

The man lived 78 years and touched more souls than we could count.
I want to share a few anecdotes.

--

Grampa in the stockyards at the National Western  trying to look gruff!

As a kid, I’d spend my summers at the cabin. These adventures with my cousins and Meemo and Grandpa into the realm of Manville were the best possible way to spend the summer.

Through all the time I spent with him, Grandpa remained a kind of stoic paragon of badassery. Tenacious, but a little mysterious.

There are a few things I can say with certainty about my grandpa.
He was absolutely a no bullshit kind of guy. Forgive me, I feel a little bad about using the term bullshit in a church. But Bob Manville would have no reservations. He didn’t sugar coat the truth. He told you what was what and he did it in no uncertain terms.

Bob and Allen Koester loading up the pack horse on an infamous backpacking trip

 Grandpa was the first person I heard curse. My mom would always scold him, but that never stopped him. If anything it just egged him on. 

“Penny! The damned democrats are at it again!”
“Ugh, the Broncos really got their asses kicked into the dirt.”
“You kids knock off the nonsense or I’m gonna beat your butts!”

It wasn’t ever vulgar when he cursed. To my innocent virgin ears it was just… cool. Like he wasn’t afraid to wield this harsher language.

Like any grandfather, he had a healthy stable of stupid jokes.
I’d say something like Grandpa I’m hungry.
And he’d say Hi Hungry, I’m Bob
Classic grandpa.
 

He had nicknames for most of his Grandkids. My brother Thomas, he called you Tomasina, Colton was Coaltrain, Skyman. I don’t think Erin got one because she was the lone granddaughter, his prairie princess.

And he would call me Red, or Redhead sometimes.

Maybe not shirtless this time but still a familiar scene in recent years!

As any of us grandkids can attest, it was not rare to see him sprawled on the couch shirtless. Watching his Westerns, or doing his crosswords, not giving a damn what anybody thought.
Most of the time he was also singing Way down upon Smokey River or Louie Louie Louie Louie. Singing very loudly. Singing pretty close to in-tune. But the words more often than not were ridiculously inaccurate.

He showed us a lot of the scars he had across his belly from surgeries and cancers.
Does it hurt? I remember asking him.
Nah, they just keep cutting it out. He said. Only thing is they’re running out of places to cut. And then he laughed. Like he really wasn’t afraid at all.

In high school and college, I would sometimes bring girlfriends up to the Cabin. When he met a girl he liked, his eyes would light up and out of nowhere he would activate this insane Casanova charm.

This genuine smile a mile-wide would turn on and he would enter what I like to call “True Gentlemen”-mode.
Tip his cowboy hat, say “Well howdy miss.”
This old, weathered cowboy would captivate those girls and they would be absolutely woo’d by him.

That was the grandpa I knew and had seen my whole life.

But I sensed there was a layer below that was sort of unknown to me. 

Grandpa was a man who could recount the process of something very well.
I remember him describing his chemotherapy and the implications of his test results and how the doctors would be doing X procedure with Y medicine. It was technical and medical but he described it with knowledge.
The thing he didn’t share was his feelings about the results. His hopes or fears. It was all words related to the technical course of action. Matter of fact. No bullshit.
I think that’s a hallmark of tough mountain folk. It’s near impossible to get them… us, to open up. Anyone who ever talked to him on the phone knows his favorite phrase. What-not-so.
I honestly have no idea what “what-not-so” even means. It’s not in the dictionary. It’s not something I’ve ever heard anyone else say.

I think its ambiguity makes it very versatile as a phone phrase.

It could mean anything from “I don’t want to talk to you, but I’m being polite” to “You’re my family and I’m proud of you and support you through thick and thin.”

So maybe that’s the heart of “what-not-so”. It’s all that’s left unsaid, that doesn’t need to be said because it’s deeply felt.

The one time with me that Grandpa skipped what-not-so and said what he felt was the last time I saw him.
I remember I said good-bye to him and I knew it was going to be the last time. He sat in that blue chair, a blanket wrapped around him, looking more frail than he’d ever been.
I hugged him and looked into his eyes and I saw something that I’d never seen before. His eyes were soft and piercing at the same time. It was weird and intense, but comforting and intimate. Like I was seeing him and he was seeing into me.
He said, “Goodbye Paul. I love you.”

And his arms gave me a really firm squeeze that surprised me, he was still super strong.

Grampa is telling Thomas how to set the headgate.

There is one distinct image I have of him that’s probably how I’ll remember him forever, and I want to share it with the wider world.

It was early on a summer morning, maybe around 7 am.
I was going to use the bathroom or play gamegear or who knows what, and I saw him standing, looking out the north window on the second story of the Cabin. He had binoculars pulled to his eyes, surveying cattle or the last remnants of melting snow on the ridge.

He was shirtless, of course. His boots were on. His scars exposed for the world to see, and he was singing loudly, obnoxiously some might say. Some.  

But he towered there, studying the land, the morning light splashing across his scarred stomach. And in this moment, I saw him as this heroic figure. No fears in the world. A swagger that couldn’t be measured by any instruments known to man. A conqueror of cancer. The American Legend.

He looked over at me and he said, “Did I wake you from your beauty sleep Redhead?”

He gave me a big ole grin. And then in his deep baritone he went right back to singing, “Way down upon the Smokey River.”

And that was my grandpa.  

By Paul Shriver, May 27, 2014

Tomorrow I will have Erin's memories. and hopefully some more pictures.

Bob's Memorial Service, Part 1

For the next few days I am going to put some things on my blog for family and friends who could not make it to the memorial service we had for Bob. Today I have the poem and picture from the little folders we gave out at the service.  I still have some if anyone wants one.  I also am posting the obituary. Cover of Bob's Remembrance Folder   A Cowboy's 23rd Psalm by William Kruse

Since the Lord Himself is my trail boss, I’m pretty well taken care of. He sees to my grazing and water rights and all the other needs of a maverick like me. He watches so that nothing bothers me much And keeps me well rested, for those hard times. He scouts the way ahead and leads me down the best trails. Even when the lightning strikes and the herd stampedes and I’m scared to death of dying, I’m not crippled by those fears Because, Lord, I know You’re riding herd. And that’s a comfort, that is. Then You go and throw a shindig for me and invite the whole county; even those who think I’m a scoundrel. And right there, in front of everybody, You pat me on the back and treat me like I’m someone special. You’ve got me drinking from my saucer, because my cup has overflowed. Since I’ve been branded by Your mercy and grace, those two will chaperone me my whole life.  When the long, long drive is over and we’re on the home range, I’ll be back in Your House, with You, Where I’ll just linger forever in Your presence and in Your love.  I sure will.  Marianne wrote the obituary and Matt Shuler read it at the service.  You both did a great job! Robert E. “Bob” Manville as he was fondly known lived a full life.  His life’s passion was spending time with those he loved and working with his cattle and on his ranch.  His quick wit and the twinkle in those blue eyes put people at ease and let them know they were loved even as he teased them.  He was a hero and a true cowboy.  On May 19, 2014 after a courageous battle against cancer, Bob went home to be with the Lord.  He was born in Walden Colorado on April 26, 1936 to Harry Manville and Marjorie (Forbes) Manville.  He was raised on the family ranch the only boy with four doting sisters.  Bob attended North Park High School where he graduated in 1954.  He attended Colorado A&M (now Colorado State University) majoring in animal nutrition.  He was active in the Greek System and served as president of his Acacia Fraternity.  Upon his graduation from college, Bob entered the United States Army.  His service was cut short when his father’s health necessitated his return to the family ranch. In November of 1959, Bob married the love of his life Penny Tyler.  They raised their 4 children on the ranch.  Bob was very involved in his children’s lives actively supporting: NPHS Sports, Cheerleaders, FFA, and 4-H.  He loved kids so much that he hosted many exchange students and was well known for “adopting” troubled kids and making them “just part of the family”.  Over the years, many kids from town, relatives, and boys from all over the country came to work as ranch hands during the summer and were mentored by Bob. Bob was service oriented and believed that it was integral to being part of a community.  He served on many committees including the Soil Conservation Committee.  He was active in the North Park Stock Growers Association serving as its president and was awarded Stock Grower of the Year.  He also lobbied for cattlemen on the state and national level.  He served as president of the Colorado Cattlemen’s Association from 1982 -1983.  He was on the National Western Stock Show Board of Directors, as well as judging, and exhibiting there. He was elected as a County Commissioner and served Jackson County from 1980-1984.  He was an active member of the National Christmas Tree Committee. Bob loved hunting and fishing and enjoyed a number of trips to Canada to indulge.  He loved to fly and was the co-owner of a small plane for many years.  He traveled the world as an ambassador for the American Cattlemen.  He was among the first Americans to travel to China in the 1970s.  He also traveled to Africa, Egypt, and Singapore as well as all over Europe. In his semi-retirement, Bob lived in Owyhee and Wendover, Nevada during the school year.  He tried his hand working at a casino and found he liked playing the slots more than tending them.  He also did a stint as a long term substitute teacher and was voted “Teacher of the Year” by the students.  But every summer he returned to his beloved cabin where he would ride herd over his beloved grandchildren and other friends and family. Bob is survived by his wife, Penny Manville;  his sisters, Jane Crocket (Jack), Carol Jean Wofford (Bill), and Barbara Ann Tyler (Tip); his children, Marianne Manville-Ailles (Pat); Carla Jean Shriver (Jim), Jeanette Jones (Ozzie), and Daniel Manville (Kathi); and his 13 grandchildren and 5 great granddaughters. In lieu of flowers donations can be made to Central Wyoming Hospice and Transitions; 319 South Wilson St.; Casper, WY 82601 or Healthcare Foundation for the Yampa Valley; PO Box 883415; Steamboat Springs, CO 80488. To leave your favorite memories of Bob sign on to www.bustardsfuneralhome.com and sign the on-line guest book. Robert E. (Bob) Manville   4/26/1936 - 5/19/2014  Tomorrow I intend to have the eulogies written and read by two of our grandchildren.  They have fond memories of their Grampa from the many summers they spent with us at the Manville Cabin "summer camp"!  There is also a slide show put together by Carla to look forward to! Note:  The obituary on the funeral home webpage is done beautifully with a picture in the background and music!  Check it out!

A Farewell To The Love Of My Life

Bob Manville fighting the good fight!

This is hard to do!  Since last September Bob has been fighting a new bout of Cancer.  This time it had metastasized from one of his former 6 cancers to his liver as well as to some other odd places.  The doctors did not know where it came from but recommended he do a round of Chemotherapy and see where to go from there.

Chemotherapy at Steamboat Springs.

  Even though Bob had kind of felt he never wanted to do chemo, he was fighter enough to give it a shot. We were still in North Park so the chemo was done in Steamboat Springs an hour away over Rabbit Ears Pass.  The chemo was as advertised.  He was quite sick after each treatment (1 each week for 3 weeks then 2 weeks off for 3 rounds) and was just recovering as the next round started.  By the time the last round was done we were snowed out of the cabin and staying in Casper with Carla and Jim.  We would drive from there to Walden and stay with our nephew Hughie and drive back and forth to Steamboat.  One time we had to stay in Steamboat because it was snowing so hard!

Lots of snow to contend with.  This was outside the motel window!

  Another time the drive from Casper to Rawlins was so bad I couldn't see the front of the car for miles!  Poor Bob was miserable traveling those miles for chemo but he toughed it out.  The chemo was finished just before Christmas and the family celebrated Christmas at the cabin.  Shortly after we drove over to Steamboat to have a CAT scan and were told the chemo did not work.  Bob decided no more and we headed up to Carla's for the winter.

Bob and I at the Blue Shoe 5K race.  I came in 3rd in my class!

The residual effects of the chemo lasted for quite some time--especially the lack of appetite and weird taste of all foods never left.  By the end of January we had made a trip to the emergency room and spent several nights trying to relieve pain and anxiety.  We finally found a Doctor that recommended using outpatient hospice.  What a blessing that was!  I can not recommend hospice as a choice highly enough.  The nurses and support staff were wonderful and have become close friends with all of our family.  They are comforting, and supportive and tell it like it is, which we appreciated even though it was hard to take.  The first few months went by with Bob feeling about the same.

At the gardens in Bellagio with our great grand daughters.

 We took a trip to Las Vegas to have one last shot at the casinos and to be with our grandson, Micah's, family and our daughter JJ and husband Ozzie.  Carla and Jim went with us.  Bob was able to do a little gambling and the little girls took him for a walk in the wheelchair through the gardens at Bellagio.

Bob's birthday cake.  He was 78 years old on April 26.

Erin and JJ with Bob.

The flights were pretty hard on Bob.  Allegiant Air is not known for comfort--the seats don't even lean back a little! But he recovered nicely and we felt hope that a miracle might again take place for him.  As the weeks went by he did start to decline and finally we accepted that this was the end of the line for our fighter cowboy! On May 19, 2014 he slipped away to be with his Maker! We are deeply sad but know that he is at peace now.

Bob survived cancer for over 35 years and lived a good long life!

I will post his obituary and some of the eulogies his grandchildren and sons-in-law gave at the memorial service as well as the slide show Carla made for it, on my next blog posts.

My Latest Project--Recipe Books!

OK, I finally have something for the blog!  This is a recipe book I made for my grandson Thomas.  He has just moved out on his own and I thought he might like some favorite recipes from his summers visiting us up at the cabin.  I am planning on making one for each of the grandkids, personalizing them with pictures of them from "the good old days".  I may even have to change some of the recipes depending on their own favorites from those fun summer days.

Free printable recipe card made with Smilebox Now, former students, don't get excited thinking I'll make recipe books for you anytime soon.  I have 10 grand kids and 3 (right now) great grand kids!  We'll see how long that takes!  I'm thinking if I did do a recipe book for each school I taught at, it would be kind of fun but the pictures for North Park HS might not be as good as WWHS because I didn't have digital back then and so not as many pics--well comparatively speaking.  It's a thought' though.