He told me to call him "Bob," although "sir" would have been more comfortable for me.

Robert Cundick was someone I put on a pedestal, and suddenly, there I was, face to face with him in his home office.

I had been doing some free-lance copywork (music typesetting) for a local business and had been recommended as a tutor for the computer program that he had just purchased. Since I had recently graduated in music composition, Bob suggested that he teach me organ and composition in exchange for computer lessons. It sounded more than fair to me.

So we began. Weekly, I made the pilgrimage to his home. Sometimes we started at the computer, sometimes at the piano or organ. Not surprisingly, Bob picked up the computer program quite quickly. I, on the other hand, would slog through hymns on the organ time and time again, trying to get them just right.

I never got over a feeling of awe for my teacher, and it turned to my disadvantage when I would sit down to play at a lesson. Nervousness would slip my hand or foot, and embarrassed by my simple mistakes, I would feel even more nervous. Oddly, it seemed to put me more at ease when Bob pretended to lead the congregation. So he would stand away from the organ, waving his arm and calling out instructions to his besotted student.

As the weeks progressed, it became clear that there was so much more that Bob could teach me than just music. He had — and still has — a passion for life, for music and for people that was almost unparalleled. He got a certain look in his eye when he talked about something he cared for deeply, and when he spoke that way, I felt that neither heaven nor hell could shake him in the quest for his cause. And when he took on a cause, I watched to see which mountains would move. Bob's gentle, yet directed, determination always seemed to have a way of making things happen.

In spite of his status in the community, Bob has never been above the simple things of life. One day, after noticing that rust was eating my car away, he dropped by my parents' home to deliver a tool so we could remove it. Another time, I went over for my lesson and Bob proudly showed me a contraption that he had built so that his wheelchair-bound sister-in-law could descend the staircase to her apartment. I soon came to realize that not only was Bob a fount of musical knowledge, he also had suggestions for great offbeat movies. Once, he even lined me up for a date.