A random stranger called me on the telephone tonight to let me know he once played trombone in my father’s band at The Cave supper club, back in the 50s or 60s.

This fellow, a retired BC Hydro engineer, attended last week’s VCC brass ensemble concert and noticed my name on the program, and wondered if I might be related to Dave Robbins. So he looked up my name, somewhere, and called me. When I confirmed I was Dave’s son, he told me a bit about himself. He took trombone lessons, while a university student, from Ted Lazenby. One night one of the trombonists in my father’s band couldn’t make it (for a few nights) and Ted recommended Gerhard to my father, who asked him to sit in. There wasn’t much more to tell, but the memories of those gigs muse have been strong and important to him.

I thought it was nice of him to call. Unexpected, welcomed, and a sort of blessing.

Here’s a photo I took of my parents, in our kitchen on Balfour Avenue.