Robert B. Casey, Bob to all his friends, went to meet his maker on February 2, 2019, something he had been curious about for some time. Born February 1, 1933, Dad was a kind, gracious and generous gentleman. He is survived by Joan, the love of his life and his wife of 66 years; their three "children," Karen, Bill (and Bev) and Jim (and Barb); eight grandchildren; seven great-grandchildren and two great-great-grandchildren.
Southside Irish, Dad joined the Chicago Police Department in 1955, carrying weights in his pockets to pass the physical. He was first assigned to ride a three-wheel motorcycle around Midway Airport. Although undoubtedly "cool" with his slender build, brown wavy hair and bright blue eyes cruising the 8th District streets on his police issue blue and white Harley Davidson, surviving pneumonia that first Chicago winter, Dad decided to study. He worked his way up from patrolman to detective to sergeant to lieutenant, then captain and ultimately commander. Dad retired as Commander of the First District, Downtown Chicago, in 1988. A high school graduate when he joined the force, Dad obtained a Masters' Degree in Police Administration from the Illinois Institute of Technology in his spare time. Where he found the time we do not know. He often worked a second and even third job to bring home the bacon. Police Officers were underpaid back then too.
Dad developed a love of music early on, playing saxophone in the high school band at St. Phillips High in Chicago, on scholarship we might add. We all fondly remember Henry Mancini emanating from the console stereo in the front room. To the end, Dad could and would whistle (beautifully) any tune, anytime, anywhere.
Dad was also an avid golfer having played from Pebble Beach to St. Andrews and he was a Bears' fan all his life. He did not blame the kicker. Dad displayed a Bob Cousy jump shot in pick-up games in the alley behind our home and played a thousand games of catch and "hit-the-wall" with us in the back yard, never too tired after finishing his shift. Somehow, sometimes in uniform, he also attended every game, match and race in which his kids participated.
We could not have asked for a better man, a better father, to show us the way. He and Mom "never had a bad day." He will be missed, more than he could ever know, too humble to ever think he was more than just one member of his family.
Special thanks to Dad's golf and poker buddies, Dr. Joe Murphy for his unfailing kindness, and to the nurses at the Mercy Hospice House who made a difficult decision the right one.
A private service will be held on Mom and Dad's anniversary in June. In lieu of flowers, Dad would appreciate a donation to the Michael J. Fox Foundation.