In Memory: Ted Robinson

On the morning of June 10, 2008, in the presence of his daughter, sister, and son-in-law, Theodore Bliss Robinson slipped quietly over the border dividing this life from the next. He passed simply and peacefully, a fine coda for a man who lived his nearly 90 years in the same manner.

My grandfather loved my grandmother, his family, science-fiction books, his well-worn recliner, sailing, sports cars, Cape Cod, Manhattans, and the Boston Red Sox. He was an engineer of some reknown during his professional career, channeling his keen intellect and technical savvy in later years to any number of electrical mashups (before the term was invented) and computer programs. He was quiet to the point of shyness, unfailingly reserved and polite, his only commentary when things were going poorly for the Sox (or his grandson was doing something reckless) a mild 'tsk, tsk' of disapproval.

MLC is nothing if not a vanity project, but it's a vanity born of a deep love for baseball. Every fan's path to the game is unique; we get here because of geography or history or random accident. Me, I got here because of family. Grandpa Robinson took me to my first Red Sox game and he taught me how to sail. One of the two passions stuck with me.

Every night, after dinner, Nana and Grandpa would retire to the study of their suburban Boston home and settle into a pair of his-and-her recliners. In the summer, sometimes the scene changed to Cape Cod, but the accompaniment never did - when the Sox were in season, they were the background. And that's how I'll remember my grandfather, the most gentle man I've known: with a book in his hand, his wife by his side, the Sox on the television.