HE LOOKED NOTHING like a leprechaun. No pointy ears. No red hair or freckles. Rather he was a slim man with definitive wavy hair. Not at all what I expected given my Aunt Dorothy’s description of her fiancé. Clearly I misheard and in my 10-year-old self’s excitement missed the word “not.” “Robin does not look like a leprechaun,” Dorothy told me and my sister Lanae. We apparently were hoping for a boisterous leprechaun like that pictured on boxes of Lucky Charms cereal.
Instead, we got a soft-spoken Irishman with an Irish brogue who in no way resembled a leprechaun. Robin, born Robert Mathews Bowman in Bangor, Ireland, married my aunt 56 years ago. He died last Sunday, January 7, following a long battle with Parkinson’s.
ENDEARING NAMES
The morning after my uncle’s death, I called Dorothy at her New Jersey home. I needed to talk to her as much as she needed to talk to me. We share a special bond. She’s always called me, “My Little Princess.” I cannot even begin to tell you how loved I feel when Dorothy calls me by that endearing name. I never grow weary of those loving words.
But it is the loving name she had for her beloved Robin that sticks with me also. She always called him “My love” or simply “Love.” Dorothy and I talked about this in our phone conversation, about how the two met at a party at the University of Minnesota where Robin was doing his post doctorate studies. Within the year, they married. I learned from Dorothy that speaking love aloud to a spouse within a stoic German family is not only OK, but quite lovely. That has stuck with me through the decades. To be witness to the love my aunt and uncle shared was a gift.
CREATING A LIFE-SAVING DRUG
In his professional career, Robin gave another gift, one with a broad, life-saving reach. He was the lead chemist in the development of the compound Letrozole (brand name Femara) used to treat certain types of breast cancer in postmenopausal women. As I spoke with Dorothy, she underscored how grateful Robin felt to accomplish this, to potentially save the lives of women via this hormone therapy drug.
Robin was clearly passionate about research. He was also passionate about golf. But of one thing he wasn’t passionate and that was eating leftovers. He didn’t. I don’t know why I knew this or why it matters, but it was something we all simply understood about Uncle Robin.
AN EMBARRASSING MOMENT
That leads to a food story. Once while visiting my childhood farm, Robin’s dinner plate broke in his hands. He was just sitting there in an easy chair in the living room eating his meal when the vintage plate broke. Someone snapped a photo, thus documenting this as part of family lore. I remember the laughter that erupted and the absolute embarrassment this quiet Irishman felt. Perhaps in this moment he wished he could, like a leprechaun, magically disappear.
BLESSED BE HIS MEMORY
In the funeral flowers my youngest brother ordered from our family for Robin’s funeral, Brad included this fitting Irish blessing:
May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. Until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand.
Loving words for an Irishman who looked nothing like a leprechaun.
© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
here’s to you sweet uncle, robin, not a leprechaun, but clearly a kind and loving man who made a great impact on you and your family. I’m so sorry for you and your aunt’s loss, and for all who cared for him. fare well, robin.
Thank you, Beth. I know you are grieving now also in the passing of your brother-in-law.
I am, but being there gave me so much peace, and I loved sharing his music and memories with family and friends
It’s always a comfort to be with family and friends in a time of grief.
I loved your stories of your uncle! So sorry he’s gone. Sounds like a lovely man!
It’s so important to remember the stories, to talk about the memories, as I did with my Aunt Dorothy in our phone conversation last Monday morning. Thank you for your condolences.
A caring tribute to an obviously wonderful man. I know what it’s like to grow up in a stoic family; displays of affection still surprise and sometimes bewilder me! Could it be that his background chemistry contributed to his aversion to eating leftovers, which can be hazardous under some circumstances?
That’s a good question about leftovers. I don’t know the story behind that story. During my growing up years, emotions were held in check as I think was common for that time period.
May Robin find peace in the arms of our Lord. Many people are described as one thing only to have that image shattered when someone meets them. What is found it that the description does not fully describe the person we meet. Accomplishments. Robin should have been very proud as those closest to him should be by his work in medicine. Saving lives, after all, is much of what we can do for the rest of humanity. Not all of the great deeds are on the battle field. Robin and I share at least two things in common. An Irish heritage and a dislike for leftovers (unless my Mother-in-Law had a hand in the remake). Life is much like a sea voyage. here will be storms, ugly seas and as we live life, we learn those lessons that make us better sailors and navigators. Calm seas and light winds do not make good or great sailors. Concerning the plate. Humor strikes us all and humor we should maintain through out our lives as it makes the storms so much milder. So, in Ronin’s memory, I will raise my glass with a touch of Old Bushmills, and toast his name giving Thanks and the glory of having known him to our God & Creator. May Robin have fair winds and following seas.
Gunny, I appreciate your thoughtful and lovely comment and your sympathy. Your words are wisdom-filled, kind and loving. Thank you for sharing in my grief even as you grieve the passing of your beloved wife.
Beautiful tribute to your loved one, Audrey. ❤
Thank you, Penny. 🙂
So sorry for your family’s loss. Lovely tribute to a wonderful man and thanks for his service in his research and saving lives. Take Care ((((((prayers, love, and hugs))))))))
Thank you, Renee.
I’m sorry for your loss. Uncle Robin sounded like a great Irishman, and very special uncle.
Thank you, Valerie. I know you’ve also had uncles who held a special place in your life, your heart. I am thankful Robin is no longer suffering from the horrible affects of Parkinson’s.
What wonderful accomplishments and memories you share about your uncle Robin. I especially love this phrase: “To be witness to the love my aunt and uncle shared was a gift.” May God hold him in the palm of His hand.
That is my favorite memory, to see the love they shared.
I am so sorry for your loss. I am sure his part in creating that wonderful drug has helped so many women. Your descriptions of him are lovely. Prayers for all who loved him.
Thank you, dear friend.