A Man of Many Trades
“My mother raised me when my father was at war,” Robert said to his folded hands, resting in his trembling lap. Robert Owen Thompson was raised by his mother, Blanche, with the assistance of two of her friends on Florence Street in Camden, New Jersey in a house that no longer exists. The road he associated with his early childhood is now lined with slated telephone poles, unkempt grasses, and run-down buildings covered in graffiti. “She’s been friends with those women for 71 years now, but I don’t know them. I’ve probably met them during the course of my life, but I haven’t seen them in 50 years. I don’t know who they are, really,” Robert shrugged. “They were a tremendous help to my mother when I was born and during my childhood.”
Robert rests his head in his hand, recollecting his memories. “When I was a couple of years old, we moved to Mount Ephraim. We lived on Lake Street. Then when I was in third or fourth grade, we moved to Stratford. I lived there until I married Diane.” Diane Rae Harper lived in a neighboring town, and the two met at a school dance, although they did not attend the same high school. Diane attended Camden Catholic High School, while Robert went to Sterling High School. “Afterwards, I attended Temple University for several years,” he closes his eyes and exhales heavily.
Paving his professional path, he took on various positions at Mobil Research, including team leader, senior operator, foreman, and supervisor. “I was on the team that developed Mobil 1 synthetic oil. I was also on the team that made JP-7, which was a high performance jet fuel that the Air Force contracted us to make for the military’s supersonic aircrafts during the Vietnam War,” he nods. With 36 years of his life dedicated to Mobil Research, he retired at the age of 56.
“I used to dress as Santa Claus,” Robert calmly takes a sip of his steaming coffee. After revealing his former identity, Robert sat back into his reclining chair, as if his social hindrances — had there been any present in his wood-paneled living room — were torn down. Volunteering for Laurel Springs’ Fire Department for over twenty years, he served as the captain of the rescue squad, the fire chief for two years, and Jolly Ole Saint Nicholas for many more.
Diane, his wife of fifty years, boasts, “He is very dedicated to community services.” With a smile pasted from cheek to cheek, she shares that he has been a volunteer in the medical supply department at Elmer Hospital and Underwood Hospital for ten years total. Additionally, Robert gives lectures at schools across South Jersey, educating approximately twenty classes of students a year. He is also an administrator of the Pittsgrove Town Watch and the Vice President of the Cara Irish Society.
Diane exposes another side of her dearest Bob, in saying, “He built our home and his brother’s house, which is next door.” Whether it be constructing a deck for their backyard or tending their vegetable garden that rests in their ten acres of land, Robert always keeps himself active and occupied in his projects around the house. His most recent project involved 70 bags of concrete (50 pounds each), 80 cinder blocks (40 pounds each), three hundred bricks (eight pounds each), and imported tiles from Mexico, resulting in a total of 2,500 pounds. The project: Building a wood fire pizza oven. Impressively, besides fixing this and building that, he is heavily involved in his kitchen.
“Sadly, this talent of his formed after his daughter moved out of the house,” Denise, Robert and Diane’s daughter, pouted.
“My son is an accomplished cook,” his mother shares over a plate of zucchini noodles, one of the countless healthy cuisines he prepares. “His cooking and his wine are delicious.”
Robert is an international award-winning winemaker, with winemaking being a major hobby of his for the past eight years. His basement serves as a fully functional kitchen and bar. One of his most renowned brews and a personal favorite is his canna red wine, while his sangria is, without a doubt, my preferable creation of his.
“Did I mention that our house sits on American Indian burial grounds?” Diane, in mid-thought, tucks her gray chin-length hair behind her ear.
“Supposed American Indian burial grounds, Diane,” Robert pokes his head into their sun room, which is speckled with southwest decor; cow figurines, as Diane had been an avid collector of all things cow for countless years; and plants of all sizes — the dainty and the overwhelming.
After discovering ancient artifacts along mounds in the forested land that surrounds his home, Robert became interested in American Indian culture and history. Now, he is highly educated on all there is to know regarding American Indians, dedicating his past five years volunteering as a curator of the Cumberland County Prehistorical Museum, an American Indian heritage museum in Greenwich Township. “Undeniably, one of my hobbies is searching for artifacts,” Robert insisted. Countless parks and beaches have been visited and searched by the amateur archeologist, including the Delaware Bay beaches, Delaware River beaches, Maurice River, Cohansey River, along with others. Over the years, Robert has accumulated hundreds of American Indian arrowheads, spear points, and pottery, with his oldest item being an arrowhead found in Greenwich, dating back ten thousand years ago.
Besides traveling the state in search of artifacts, Robert has traveled around the country with his wife, as they are active kayakers, hikers, and campers. “Alaska, Colorado, Montana, Wyoming, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, Canada, Missouri, Kansas, Nebraska, Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, New York,” Robert thinks aloud, as if reading off a mental list, pausing here and there in between states. “We’ve camped all over the country.” The Thompsons prove themselves to be very nature-oriented people. “I’ve been reading a lot of theories about aliens since one encounter we had last August in Maine,” Robert stares out the window, into the cloud-filled sky, as if he knew the extraterrestrials were tuning in and listening to what was about to leave his mouth. “One night, while we were camping, something passed over us. Not an airplane, not a hot air balloon, nothing of those sorts. This thing that hovered above us was massive, with three lights and no sound emitted from it. Whatever it was, it was bizarre. There is no other explanation besides it being a UFO.” After admitting to have subscribed to alien and extraterrestrial publications, Robert closed his blinds and returned to his reclining chair.
With the goal of lessening his geek factor, Robert journeys down the stone path leading to his garage, opening the doors to reveal his latest project: a 1968 Mustang. “You’re never allowed in this,” he warns me. Its restoration is still in the works, but cars that he has finished include a 1955 Mercury convertible, a 1957 Ford Fairlane, and a 1958 Triumph TR3, with the latter two being raced at the Atco Raceway.
A car restorer, a national traveler, an outdoorsman, a builder of basically anything, an avid chef, a skilled winemaker, a frequent pow wow attender, a devoted volunteer, a handyman, an alien believer, a husband to a doctor (yes, Diane is equally as accomplished), and a grandfather to myself. Robert Owen Thompson crosses his arms as the atmosphere attempts to absorb all he has done in life. “I never realized I did so much. I accomplished a lot,” he smiles. “Use this for my eulogy.”
