Good morning, I am Nelson Keyser. I have no memory of my life before Bobby. We joked that we were in diapers when we met and that is probably true. Growing up on Oakford Road in Ardmore, Bobby was my best friend. We did everything together along with two whole families of Giangiulios and lots of Keysers. We ran in and out of each other’s houses, up and down the street. We played baseball and football on Elwell Field and built forts in the woods. We managed to use the field house at Haverford College as much as the students who went there. One Halloween when we were really little, Bobby had a Superman costume. Bobby always had great faith. One of the things he truly believed was that Superman was real and Superman could fly. Once he got that Superman cape, he was sure he could fly, too! Unfortunately, he took a flying leap right through a storm door. Glass shattered everywhere, which could have been tragic—maybe his first brush with death. Many lacerations and countless stitches later, Bobby had learned a lesson, but that never inhibited his enthusiasm for things he loved. We did a million things together and had lots of adventures including a road trip to DisneyWorld soon after it opened in 1971. We had several jobs together from bussing tables at Stouffers in Wynnewood to caddying at Merion Golf Club. One of our more ingenious escapades was on a job we had painting all the hotel room doors at the Treadway Inn in Radnor. We had an allotment of paint but we determined it would not be enough to finish the job. Somewhere, we found another supply of different colored paint. We mixed the two together and produced a whole new color that we used to finish the job. The management was not impressed with our creative solution! We shared our love of sports going to Phillies games, having season tickets to the Eagles, and coaching Little League baseball. We skied through several winters when we rented houses in the Poconos with friends. We had countless trips to the shore. We would stay at the old Lincoln Hotel in Ocean City and, later on, many happy weekends at the Giangulio family home on East Atlantic Boulevard. Family was certainly the most important thing in the world to Bobby. Maybe it was because May 14, 1950, the day he was born, was Mother’s Day. As much as we had our adventures out and about, we spent a lot of time with his parents, Frank and Angie, his Uncle Pete and Aunt Reggie, and at the yard on County Line Road having an occasional meal in his grandmother’s kitchen. Bob and I shared a million thoughts. He was brilliant and had a steel trap memory! He knew every state and capital when he was in the fifth grade at St. Denis. He could still have recited them all last week. He never forgot anything and like clockwork he never missed calling me on my birthday each year. The first best thing that ever happened to Bob was meeting Sue. He was crazy about her from the day they met. The three next best things were welcoming Jeff, Laura and Eric into the world. We all love our kids, but Bob’s world revolved around his. No father ever spoke of their kids with more pride than Bob did about his three-- from rugby and gymnastics, from Shippensburg to Temple to Penn State, from online marketing to public relations to actuarial work, --everything they did was a source of pride for Bob. As our families grew, we spent less time together, but the quality of time was always great! When we told our children about Bob’s death our eldest son immediately recalled the great camping trips we took to the Chesapeake and the “all boys” weekends we shared with Bobby and Jeff and the Peltiers and Esslingers. Bob had a lot of challenges with his health in recent years—a few more brushes with death. Seven years ago he had spine surgery. In 2007 he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Bob had to undergo two surgeries, chemo and radiation to beat a disease that hardly anyone beats. But with Superman determination, beat it he did. Bob acknowledged it was a miracle! He often said, “I know there is only one reason I am here today: the power of prayer!” Three years later, I went to visit Bob in another hospital where he was recovering from lung cancer surgery. He never complained about his afflictions, at least not to me. Even in his hospital bed, he wanted to know about our kids and what they were doing. He continued to acknowledge the power of prayer and the support of his great family and friends. Like his family, his friends meant the world to him. Old friends were never forgotten, but when Bob and Sue moved to West Chester, they made wonderful new friends. It became impossible to make plans with Bob on a Friday night, because Fridays became sacred, sharing them with their fabulous neighbors. They raised their children together in a great neighborhood. They shared a special bond that will surely help to sustain Sue in the days ahead. Occasionally, we’d get together with old friends from Ardmore and their wives. Bob really enjoyed that! He was equally happy when he and Sue got together with just my wife and me for pizza at Morrone’s. When Bob was diagnosed with emphysema, his Superman determination took hold and he would fight the best fight he could! But he also remembered his mother’s battle with the same disease and he did not look forward to suffering the same struggles she endured. Before his recent heart attack and hospitalization, he had reconciled that he would not undergo extraordinary measures to stay alive. But he certainly wanted to live every moment to its fullest. A week ago Monday, during our last visit in his hospital room, Bob was so engaged in conversation about his recent trip to California that when the nurse came in to put his oxygen mask back on, he asked for a few extra minutes, so he could share a few more details about the wonderful meals they had and places they stayed. Superman had traversed the country in celebration of his family with its newest members, the relatives and friends of his son-in-law, Gabe Michael. Many of us in this church today were in another church just down the road on July 14th when, in perhaps the proudest moment of his life, Bob walked his beautiful daughter down the aisle on her wedding day. Faith clearly guided Bob on his journey through this life: his faith in family, his faith in friendship and his faith in the power of prayer. Bobby, I have faith, too. I believe that just as you went home from the hospital a week ago to the peaceful comfort of Sue and your children, you have now gone home to the loving embrace of your parents and the peaceful comfort of your God. And somehow, in my mind’s eye, I know that the next time you think of that Superman cape, there will be no more challenges. You will just fly.