I am not a
guy who reads the obituaries, but my wife Chris suggested I read this one from
the Orlando Sentinel yesterday. I don’t know this guy … but I like him after
reading his obituary! Because we all will eventually die, I think all of us
should ask ourselves, “What will my obit say?”
“James Robert Taylor II passed away peacefully in his Ft.
Lauderdale home on March 20, 2013. Rob was born to proud parents James (Jim)
and Maxine Taylor on May 17, 1952 and spent a sunny childhood in Cocoa Beach,
FL, where he excelled at tennis and tormenting younger sisters Kathy and Jodi.
Rob was proud to attend the Harvard of the South, more commonly known as
Florida State University, where he graduated with the class of 1975 after being
voted Man of the Year. He organized infamous parties and pranks with his
brothers at the Phi Delta Theta house, where he was president in 1974 and King
thereafter. He was a lifelong supporter of Seminole football, and spent each
autumn vacillating between predicting another national championship and
bemoaning a squad of worthless bums. Following graduation, Rob studied tax law
and became a CPA. He also moonlighted as a tennis pro, charming the members of
the Piping Rock Club of Long Island, NY and the Jupiter Island Club of Hobe
Sound, FL. Off the clock, he boogied to disco hits and more than once took
advantage of a case of mistaken identity as Tom Selleck. Rob was settled
comfortably into bachelorhood until the fateful day that he met Susan Stanley.
She was equally smitten and the two would become inseparable partners for the
next 24 years. Their marriage in 1995 marked the union of equals who found
strength in their opposite talents, good humor, and shared commitment to
sobriety. Together they built a home in Winter Park in which friends, excepting
Gator fans, always felt welcome. Though he became a family man nearly
overnight, Rob proved a natural. He knew how to lead his wife around a dance
floor and follow her in matters of home décor and vacation planning. He readily
abetted many of her questionable schemes, from buying Christmas trees two feet
taller than the living room ceiling to constructing a backyard chicken coop.
Rob was an excellent father who taught his step-children to ride bikes, swing
backhands, and do their best to make him proud. He developed their character by
overseeing the grueling chore of making gallons of orange juice from his
backyard trees, which he then cheerfully gave away to friends. He debated the
merits of Orlando Magic players with his son, Walker, on the way to school and
dished up made-to-order omelets for his daughter, Hannah, on Sunday mornings.
He had a wide range of curiosities and a habit of using cutlery to elucidate
life’s mysteries for his family at the dinner table. As his children reached
young adulthood, Rob enthusiastically squired them around the campuses of their
prospective universities. Though he assured them that the choice was theirs,
subtle pressure led them both to selecting ACC schools, which he visited for
football weekends each year. Confronting an empty nest, Rob set about opening a
new chapter in his life: conquering Florida’s floor covering market by founding
Commercial Flooring Distributors with his business partner, Arden Kelley. He
found immense satisfaction in building his empire and could talk at passionate
length about the virtues of various materials and installation processes,
somewhat to his family’s dismay. In 2001, the Taylors found themselves at home
in South Blue Hill, Maine, where they set about realizing their dream of a
coastal farmstead. Rob took great pleasure in observing the indigenous water
fowl; in the summer of 2012, he and Susan welcomed six chickens, three ducks, a
puppy of questionable pedigree, and new granddaughter Eliza into their lives,
and made the most of their time together as Rob persisted in his battle with
kidney cancer. He endured two years of scans, pills, infusions, lasers, and
trials with patience, optimism, and bravery. Even at the end of his physical
decline, he fought to remain present in family life; hours before his death, he
had us laughing with a well-timed smile and an arched eyebrow. When they were
young, Rob facetiously encouraged his children to greet him each morning by
telling him that he got better looking every day, and it’s true that the light
of his inner beauty only grew brighter over time. We were privileged to love
and be loved by him.”
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