As Time Goes By
One Saturday afternoon in late 1961, after a brief shopping spree with the family in downtown Kansas City, we were seated in the second-story Wolferman’s Restaurant, overlooking the traffic and the busy shoppers below. As I sat there with Gaby at my side and facing my two sons, I couldn’t help but think about the time in 1953 when I noticed this young man, his wife, two little boys and a baby in a stroller. I thought at the time that I would never know what it was like to be a father...to be part of a loving family. And here I was! A self-satisfying feeling. Still, that black cloud in the horizon never seemed to go away. I suppose time has a way of passing by all too quickly once you’ve settled down to a repetitive, daily routine. Sadly, our husband and wife intimacy in the bedroom became a rare circumstance.

The Challanges Ahead
Our days and nights settled into a routine until the big transfer came early 1963. The Kennedy Space Center!
At the time, the moon project was referred to as the “MILA” project...the Merritt Island Launch Area. That’s all that was talked about at the TWA Overhaul Base in Kansas City since the company was awarded a healthy contract with NASA. And now I’ll have a chance to play an integral part in one of the most challenging explorations in history. The whole family was as excited as I was. Year-round swimming and surfing, no more freezing weather... no more sleet or snow! And my chance to use what I have learned through formal education and experience! Most likely I would be very excited about an assignment, for example, involving a trip to India or China...but the MOON!
We were all seated at a lolng table at a five-star restaurant in Cocoa Beach, Florida. We represented the nucleus TWA-NASA crew of sixteen, here to expand the TWA operations at the Kennedy Space Center. I sat across from the CEO. He looked at me and said, “Robb, you’re not eating your steak! Is anything wrong?”
“Well, Sir, this just doesn’t seem to have been my day. I got a ticket in Orlando, my rented car broke down just before I hit Cocoa Beach and right now I happen to have a splitting headache!”
“Tell you what. After dinner, let’s do a little fishing. If there’s anything that’ll clear that head of yours, it’ll be the sea air!”
The pier jutted way out into the ocean and we could hear the waves lapping against the pilings. We were both leaning against the railing, high above the ocean, staring in silence at the full moon for what seemed like a long time. I was thinking about the time Gaby and I were on the Queen Mary, leaning against the railing way up high. The moon and the golden pathway all the way to the horizon looked exactly the same. Deja vu!
He broke the mood and the silence. “Robb, take a good look at that moon. That is the reason we are here! To send a human being up there to walk around and bring him safely back to earth!”
I nodded in awe and felt shivers up and down my spine.
“How’s your headache now?”
“What headache?”
It was November of that year when the news flashed on millions of TV sets that President Kennedy had been shot! The horrible event reminded me of the radio announcement back in 1945, while I was seated in the dentist’s chair, that President Roosevelt had passed away.

Settling Down
I designed our own house in Merritt Island, in close proximity to the Banana River. My family remained in Kansas City until the house was ready for occupancy. They were ecstatic when they first saw their new home and even more so when they stepped inside. It wasn’t long before the kids were placed in their respective classrooms and we soon settled down to a happy routine. Gaby spent a lot of her time at the beach and her blue eyes were more pronounced against her beautiful tan. She made a lot of friends and she seemed happy. Me too! Sort of.
Early 1965, wanting to get back into music again, I had a bright idea. Why not start a chorus down here? I made an appointment with the NASA Director of Public Relations because I had heard that he was interested in the arts! The outcome of that meeting? NASA paid for the advertising and eventually, when we had the responses we needed, they footed the bill for risers, a brand new piano, uniforms, sheet music and a paid director. Way beyond what I had originally planned.

My Third Open-Fly Incident
A few months prior to the 1965 Christmas holidays, Gaby decided to join a local mixed chorus. She enjoyed singing and hadn’t been involved with a choral group since she was in Lima.
The first performance was a memorable one. They all wore happy faces, young and old, and their dress was appropriate for the holidays. The concert was being taped by a local television crew for airing later in the week. I sat in the front row, surrounded by my two young sons.
Gaby caught my eye while they were just starting “Silent Night” and the moment they reached the word “holy” she lip-synced “YOUR FLY’S OPEN!” This unmistakable gesture was caught on tape and caused quite a stir of laughter, amusement and discussion. The scene was aired repeatedly.

The Election
By 1967 the Kennedy Space Center Chorus was performing in various locations in and around the Cocoa Beach area. It was during that time that I threw in my hat for the presidency of the 800-member TWA Management Club, at the insistence of several of my TWA colleagues.
On the night of the election for club officers, Gaby wanted me to buy a loaf of bread before I left for the hotel where the event was to take place...which I did. After all kinds of speech-making, when the votes were tallied, it was determined that I had won the presidency. I was toasted with all kinds of drinks...one after the other, in celebration! This was the first time in my entire life that I had actually become inebriated. When I got home, Gaby was at the front door waiting for me. She started to laugh when she saw me walking out of the garage. “You won!”
“Yesh I did! You’re (hiccup) looking at the new pre-preshident of the Mismanagement Club!” At that point I dropped the loaf of bread and I swore, when I tried to pick it up, that there were two loaves! By this time Gaby was laughing heartily. She had never seen me drunk before. Then I closed the garage door on my head and she lost it!
Oh well. Just another one of those crazy little mixed-up affairs!

A Challenging Assignment
I enjoyed the responsibilities associated with being president of the TWA Management Club and this gave me the opportunity to apply many of the principles I had learned when I attended the Dale Carnegie course several years ago. Along with the duties at work, plus my involvement as chairman of the Kennedy Space Center Chorus, as well as my involvement at home, including house and property upkeep, I managed to keep exceedingly busy. Quite a difference from the time several years back when I was a pot and pan salesman!
I was holding a meeting with my office staff one afternoon when I received a phone call from the secretary of the head of NASA Public Relations. I was asked to report to his office first thing the next morning.
“Good morning, Robb! Have a seat.”
“Good morning. Thanks.”
“Incidentally, congratulations on the KSC Chorus’ performance the other night in Titusville. I was there with my entire family, including my four grandchildren. We were all very impressed. I especially liked that...what was it...a spiritual? Your...”
“You mean “Oh Lord Where’s That Man?”
“Yes! You actually wrote that?”
“Yes, Sir. I’ve been writing music ever since I can remember. That’s really my first love!”
“Really? Well I must say, that spiritual of yours was very impressive. Oh...and congratulations also on your new responsibilities as president of your TWA Management Club. You certainly have a lot on your plate.”
I smiled.
He sat back in his chair and cleared his throat. “I had a reason for calling you into my office this morning, Robb. Here’s the deal. My cohorts here at NASA feel very strongly that we need to offer the public some kind of publicity...you know...what our purpose is here, where we’re headed, and so forth. Our mission of sending a man to the moon, especially in view of President Kennedy’s announcement several years ago, stating a target date of 1969? So! What we want to do is to produce a nationally televised rundown showing us off, so to speak. Update the public just where we stand. And we all pointed the finger at you!”
“Wow! I mean, WOW! What...what role did you have in mind for me?”
“We want you to do two things, basically. We want you to write the entire scenario AND we want you to compose the music!”
My heart skipped a beat! “Wow again! I can tell you this: I’d be more than honored!”
“Good! Then it’s settled. I had already talked to your TWA personnel to give you the time off your working assignments so that you can concentrate on this project. How does this hit you? Think you can handle it? You will have all of our resources at your disposal.”
“All I can say is that I’ll give it all I’ve got! Thank you for having this kind of faith in me. Actually, when do I start?”
“This coming Monday morning you can start making notes...an outline perhaps...however you wish to approach the project. We’d like to have the finished product in mid-1969.
I thought I’d break the exciting news to the family and we went to one of our favorite Cocoa Beach restaurants specializing in fried chicken...called “Fat Boy’s”. There was an extra long wait for tables due to the fact that a launch was scheduled for later in the afternoon and that always brought in the crowds. I had never seen Gaby and the kids so excited when I broke the news and they were asking all kinds of questions about this unique assignment. Gaby suddenly interrupted me while I was talking.
“Excuse me, Honey, but isn’t that Walter Cronkite over there?”
Sure enough. He was obviously in town to report on the coming launch. We watched him as he slowly placed his glasses on his nose to look at the menu. A very distinguished looking gentlemen indeed.

Another Change in Plan
It was a few months later, after I had the initial outline of the scenario tentatively approved by NASA headquarters, that I wrote the music and lyrics to a number called, ‘That Strange and Eerie Feeling”. I had watched some of the astronauts in training and it was mind-boggling! Following that, I heard a rather haunting melody in my mind late one night when I couldn’t sleep. Gaby told me to please get up and drink a glass of warm milk...anything to stop that tossing and turning! I later named the number “Saga of Space”.
I had no sooner completed the lead sheet to “Saga of Space” when I received a telephone call from my former boss at the Kansas City Overhaul Base.
“George, how’re things going down there?”
“Fine! Keeping real busy these days!” I immediately wondered why he was calling me.
“Tell you what! We want you back here with us in Kansas City. To be part of the planning committee on a brand new airplane. Have you heard about Boeing’s new 747?”
“No I haven’t.”
“Well, when you see it, you’ll never believe it. In fact, we want to send you, along with a group of other engineers and maintenance mechanics, to Everett, Washington. There it’ll just about blow your mind, George, when you see a mock-up of this gigantic airplane.”
“Sounds...interesting.”
“You don’t sound too excited. Any second thoughts?”
“Oh don’t get me wrong. It sounds like quite a challenge. It’s just that I have so many irons in the fire down here right now. Do I have to give you my decision right away?”
There was a pause. “Give me an answer by the end of the week. Okay?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll do that. And thank you.”
All the next week, before mentioning anything to Gaby, I talked to a lot of people, both at TWA and NASA. I was informed, in confidence, that TWA was going to lose their contract next year with NASA and that it looked like Boeing was going to take over. I hated to leave Florida. And what will happen to this assigned project with NASA? I haven’t even put a dent into it yet. And I know Gaby and the kids will be devastated. They’ve come to love Florida!

Breaking News
I made a reservation for just the two of us at the same restaurant where I had that headache and couldn’t eat my steak...that rough day when I first arrived at Cocoa Beach. Gaby put her menu down and said, “Okay, Honey. I know you have something on your mind. You’ve had that same expression all week long.”
“Guess you know me like a book! Why don’t we have a nice dinner first and then I’ll spill the beans! Okay?”
“But...”
“No buts! Please. I just don’t wanna spoil your appetite!”
“You’ve already spoiled it.”
We ate quietly and when dinner was over I broke the news. Right to the point, without dilly-dallying. “We’re moving back to Kansas City.”
“What?”
“That’s right. I got a call from my boss at the overhaul base and they want me back to be part of the planning team for a brand new airplane.”
“But Honey! I...we...”
Please! Hear me out. Honestly, I hate it as much as you do, but let’s be practical! We don’t have much choice. You know, Honey, you gotta go where the paycheck is. It looks like TWA will lose their contract next year and let me tell you...I sure don't wanna be hunting for another job down here and go through that job hunting frenzy I suffered before I got that TWA job in Kansas City!"
"My God, Honey! What about that NASA project you've been working on? You're just letting that go? An opportunity like that comes once in a lifetime! To have your own music on national television? And the children! They have their friends. They're doing so well in school. Oh my! Oh Honey! Oh my of my of my!" Tears began to blur her eyes as she opened her purse to fetch a small handkerchief. "Can't they wait until you at least finish that project?"
"No. They won't wait. I was given one week to make my decision. Sure I'd love to stay here. At least I can finish the program for the chorus this coming Christmas. Omi and Opi will be here so let's make it as pleasant as possible for the whole family.”

Getting Settled Again
Early 1968 I chose an area close to Kansas City's TWA overhaul base so that I wouldn't have to do too much traveling. While the new house I designed was under construction, the family remained in Florida. I found a room in a private home until the house was ready for occupancy. In the meantime, I enjoyed my brief stay in Everett, Washington, and I was flabbergasted when I first saw the mockup of the Boeing 747.
One day I happened to be seated at my desk at work, concentrating on a method involving the installation and removal of aircraft seats and other interior parts. I haphazardly sketched a design of a special platform and conveyorized ramp to service the B-747 exit areas. Oddly enough, this was not even one of my assignments. My boss happened to be roving around the department from desk to desk and glanced over my shoulder.
"What's this, Robb?"
"Oh nothing, really. I was just thinking of a method of handling the interior parts of the 747...getting them in and out of the airplane quickly. Nothing earth-shaking!"
"May I have that?" Without awaiting a reaction from me, he grabbed the sketch and walked away with it.
Months later, to my astonishment, the platform and conveyorized ramp I had designed were under construction.
Occasionally I flew back and forth to Florida to be with the family. I took a small airline shuttle from Orlando to Melbourne, where Gaby would pick me up (doughnuts ready) and drop me off. I suppose I kept these visits to a minimum because my time spent with Gaby in the bedroom had become a frustrating and dismal failure. The "fantasizing" no longer worked, as my friend at the Quality Hill Towers has predicted. Sex had become nothing short of an obligation rather than a pleasure, as it should have been! I couldn't help but feel guilty. Gaby never said anything, at least not yet!
In August of 1968 we were all settled in our new home in Kansas City. Being busy had a tendency for me to shelve any thoughts about sexual "obligations" ...finding new schools for the boys, furnishing the new house, challenges at work, etc. Soon things began to relax towards a definite routine and the time passed quickly and uneventfully.
The moon landing in July of 1969 was the next big event worth mentioning. Opi was sitting in my favorite chair when the event was unfolding on TV. No one could believe this astonishing event, as Walter Cronkite removed his glasses and shook his head. Somehow, I felt that I at least played a small role toward this fantastic accomplishment!
Around six weeks every summer Gaby's parents came to stay with us. It was winter in Lima and they did not like the cold weather. Eventually these visits became somewhat annoying, as they prevented us from planning any kind of a getaway vacation.
Early 1970 I began to formulate plans involving the startup of a TWA chorus. I talked with the TWA powers to be and the proposal soon blossomed into reality, putting into use my previous experence when I started the Kennedy Space Center Chorus. I was disappointed to hear that the KSC Chorus had disbanded shortly after I had left. Following a bit of detective work, I found out that the chorus equipment was in storage at a warehouse in Cocoa Beach. Several of us flew down and finalized the necessary arrangements to have everything shipped to Kansas City. The "everything" included the piano, risers, uniforms (emblems had to be replaced) and manuscripts of special choral arrangements. In slightly over a year's time, necessitating a lot of time and effort, the "TWA Embassador Chorus" was up and running!

May I Have Your Autograph?
Early 1971, several relatives and friends were standing along the perimeter of the large room, watching the highschool chess players competing for the state prize. My son and I flew to Chicago so that he could attend the match. As the game progressed, the man standing next to me began a friendly conversation and he informed me that he was the music director of an all-boys' Catholic highschool in Quincy, Illinois. As one thing led to another, he asked me if I would mind sending him a copy of one of my compositions, suitable, if possible, for a male chorus.
A few months after I had mailed him a copy of "Oh Lord, Where's That Man?", arranged by a YMCA friend of mine way back in the '40's, I received this letter: “Dear Mr. Robb: Sorry I didn’t have a chance to acknowledge receipt of your composition, but you will be happy to know that we have been rehearsing your number for the past two months and we are now prepared to "show it off". All of us, faculty and students as well, loved your spiritual. The lyrics have so much feeling and meaning and they fit hand-in-glove with the melody. We feel honored that you were kind enough to send us your music and lyrics. That said, we would like to invite you to attend our concert and we would like to pay for your travel expenses as well as motel accommodations in our lovely little town of Quincy, Illinois. Instructions are enclosed. We are looking forward to seeing you for the concert at our highschool.”
Wow! I was thrilled! Gaby and the boys were excited for me. I arrived in Quincy on a late Saturday afternoon. I was somewhat familiar with this quaint little town when I often visited it as a saleman for New Departure Ball Bearings. While seated in the airplane, I recalled reading that Quincy was the site of the famous Lincoln-Douglas debates.
After enjoying dinner with the music director and his family, we proceeded to the highschool auditorium. By the time we had arrived, every seat was taken and there was standing room only around the sides and back of the auditorium. A seat was reserved for me and I was nervous with anticipation.
The spiritual was the last number on the program. They did a magnificent job! The applause was deafening, followed by a standing ovation. The music director held up both hands and beckoned me to stand up. "Here he is, ladies and gentleman...George Robb! The composer of “Oh Lord, Where's That Man?” he shouted. I smiled proudly and waved at the crowd. Later, as people gathered in the lobby, several asked for my autograph...the first time in my life! I was surprised, flattered and somewhat embarrassed.

Good Bye, Mother
In mid-summer of 1972, my brother called me just as soon as we returned from a short vacation in Mexico City, where we stayed with Gaby's friends who had moved from Lima, Peru.
"George! Hi! Very sad and shocking news. Early this week Mom left her apartment with just her umbrella, leaving her purse at home. Apparently it was pouring down rain, and from what I'm told, she crossed the street without looking and a car slammed into her."
"Oh God no! Is she..."
"Yes. The police on the scene said she died immediately. She remained in the city morgue for three days before her sister identified her!"
"Oh wow! My God! Poor Mom! That's awful! What a way to go!”
Three days later there was a simple funeral and she was laid to rest beside my father in a cemetery just outside of Elizabeth.

Dedication of New Airport
Shortly after my family's return to Kansas City following my mother's funeral, I became immersed in an ambitious project involving the TWA Ambassadors. I was asked to include the chorus as an integral part of the dedication ceremonies at the newly constructed Kansas City International Airport, adjacent to the TWA overhaul base. Vice President Agnew made a speech, after which we sang our hearts out! Two of my own songs were written for the occasion: "We're the TWA Ambassadors!" and "We Can't Go Wrong!" The Kansas City Star covered the event. The chorus, as well as myself, received high praise.

Oops!
In 1974 I spent several evenings per week while Gaby watched TV, trying to memorize Rachmaninoff’s “Prelude in C Sharp Minor”, simply as a personal challenge, just to prove to myself that it can be done. Not being able to actually sight read, I picked at the music note by note on the upright piano I had bought at Jenkins years ago. Gaby laughed at my persistence and one evening she suggested that I go to the UMKC Conservatory of Music to engage in a bit of formal study.
I decided to follow her advice and during the very first class session the instructor asked each student to sit down at the piano and at least play something! Most of them played very simple melodies like "Chop Sticks" or something equally as inane. When it was my turn, I played "Rachmaninoff's Prelude in C Sharp Minor". The teacher, as well as the entire class, was stunned!
"What in the world are you doing in this classroom when you can play like that?" she asked.
"That's all I can play!" Everyone laughed.
During the third session, a substitute teacher took over the class. Walter played his classical guitar before the class and when I heard him play, I was hooked! I approached him after class and asked if it was possible at this point to switch from piano to guitar. He said, "No problem". This resulted in my purchasing an inexpensive instrument for study purposes and in time I began to learn a few of the fascinating complexities of the instrument. I invited him to our home one evening and Gaby took a liking to him immediately. They played duets together...Gaby at the piano and Walter strumming the guitar.
During the early part of the 1974 summer, Gaby's folks arrived and Opi brought along a Peruvian song, written especially for two guitars. This happened to be a very catchy number and I took over the accompaniment while Walter played the melody. We practiced several times a week in the basement, eventually memorizing the song.
One day I mentioned my guitar "accomplishments" to a fellow TWA employee and this conversation resulted in an invitation to play, along with my instructor, before the TWA Management Club in early September. I steadfastly refused, saying that I'm not an entertainer and I would freeze before a live audience.
Walter thought it would be fun to play before the group and after much bantering back and forth, he talked me into it. “George, tell you what! Why don’t you play just this one number and I’ll precede it with a variety of songs. It’ll be great! Trust me!”
When the big moment arrived at the Ritz Carlton Hotel on the Country Club Plaza, I sat next to Gaby at a table for ten. The ballroom was crowded to capacity.
Gaby said, "Honey, you're not touching your steak!"
Somehow this quickly reminded me of the time I was told this same thing when I had that headache during my first day in Cocoa Beach.
I shook my head. "Honey, I just wish I never accepted Walter's challenge! Frankly, I'm scared out of my mind!"
"Oh don't be silly. You'll do just fine."
Walter sat next to me and leaned on the table. "Gaby's right. There's nothing to be scared about. After all, you do know the number by heart. Just get up there with me and play as though you and I were practicing in your basement!"
"Yeah, sure. That's easy for you to say, Walt. You're used to playing before an audience. I'm not!"
Just at that moment we were introduced. Walter nonchalantly walked up the two steps and on to the specially built platform and sat down in front of the microphone, leaning the guitar on his thigh. He played several songs beautifully and received enthusiastic applause. Then came my moment!
Since I was known by most of the audience, I received a hand as I settled down on the stage next to Walter. I looked down at the crowd of people seated around the various tables, nicely dressed and anxiously awaiting for me to make a fool of myself (a thought crossed my mind: I am an engineer, not an entertainer.)
As we played Opi's number, my fear did not subside and my fingers were certainly not as limber as they should have been. During several passages I was either ahead or behind Walter as he struggled to keep up with me.
When we finished the song and just before the applause started, Walter leaned toward me, momentarily forgetting the live microphone, and said, "George, you f-d up!" The microphone carried his announcement throughout the entire ballroom. People stood up laughing and clapping their hands at the same time.
Oops!

The Guitar
By the end of 1974, Walter almost became part of the family. By now my older son was studying law at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, my other son was studying medicine at the University of Missouri in Columbia and Gaby was attending evening courses at the University of Missouri in Kansas City to obtain her Masters Degree in Liberal Arts and Foreign Language.
One day Walt announced that his secret ambition was to go to Spain and buy a classical guitar. He asked me what the approximate travel cost would be. I figured it out for him and for the next several months he worked hard doing manual labor, loading and unloading trucks for a moving company.
Finally, the great moment came. Walter, Gaby and I were all set to fly from Kansas City to New York to Madrid, Spain, via TWA! Unfortunately, poor Walt was not accustomed to traveling. In fact, he had never been out of the Kansas City area. Gaby wanted to drive to KCI but he insisted on driving his old car. While driving we noticed that he was perspiring profusely and squeezing the steering wheel with all his might.
Gaby was seated next to him. "For heaven's sake! What are you so nervous about? Look at this as a challenge...as an adventure. You'll love the experience, believe me!"
When we approached the long line at the ticket counter, Walt suddenly exclaimed, "Oh my God! I forgot my passport! I must have left it on the dresser before I left!"
Gaby and I were flabbergasted. I said, "Walter! Oh no! You can't travel without it! Tell you what. You go back home and get your passport. Gaby and I will wait for you here and we'll just hope we can still make that flight out of New York to Madrid."
Luckily, we made the flight to Madrid "by the skin of our teeth"! When we arrived in Madrid, Walt was shaking like a leaf. Gaby and I tried our best to console him. He didn't know the language and everything seemed so strange to him. After we cleared customs, we arrived at the hotel in the early afternoon and Walter insisted on staying in his room. The next morning he did manage to join us but he said that he was sick to his stomach. We spent the rest of the day at the EI Prado Museum and that seemed to take his mind off his own problems.
The third day Walt announced that he wanted to go home! We both argued at the TWA ticket counter but to no avail. We could not change his mind. We reminded him that the purpose of the trip was to buy a guitar but nothing I said could change his mind. Gaby sensed that the situation was hopeless when she saw us arguing, so she left to do some shopping. The upshot was that Walt did leave and I ended up buying a guitar for myself. It cost me over a month’s salary, but how proud I was in the taxi with that beautiful, classical instrument in its red velvet inlay, setting on my lap. I thought about giving or selling the guitar to Walter, but his behavior annoyed me...even angered me and, selfishly, I kept the guitar for myself.

Time Slips By (Part One)
1975: Walter gets married and leaves town to be near his wife's relatives.

Gaby receives her Masters Degree.

Gaby is diagnosed with breast cancer and undergoes double mastectomy. Doctor advises me in confidence that she might live another five or six years...shocking and tragic news.

1976: Omi passes away; Gaby flies to Lima to attend funeral.

1978: Opi passes away; Gaby flies to Lima to attend funeral.