Robert F. Wallace, Ph.D
“World traveler”

Robert Frank Wallace (aka “Frank Bob”, only his Sister called him this, but I love it!), “Frank” in his younger years, born on May 26, 1944, in Alabama, raised in Tennessee; passed September 17, 2025 in Eureka.

An anxious knock on the door and I hear the call to “come in”.

I’m greeted cheerfully, by the most child-like smile on a face that’s been weathered by the hands of time. Already penning down a list of things for me to take care of, Bob had a certain preciseness about him, and his mind was just as sharp as his yesterdays. First impressions are always lasting, walking into the place, I couldn’t help but gaze in wonderment. I started asking questions because the house was filled with so many unique objects. He told me, “I’m an open book.” We instantly got along very well, with similar views and interests. In my work, I’m usually taking care of plants or cutting grass. This did not feel like work at all, but more like the unveiling of a history.

An aura of solace surrounded this person who had lived a great life of diversity. This wasn’t about cleaning someone’s house or preparing a meal for a stranger, in those hours, time stood still with intent.This new uncharted assignment was well understood. With my whole heart, I truly wanted to hear the journey that brought “this respected elder” to their final destination. With the first questions asked, I knew he was just as eager to walk down this lane of memories with me. Life can often be uplifted by intersecting paths that cross for a fleeting moment with a huge purpose. This is the story of my Dad’s old friend, and my new friend, Bob.

Intelligence, determination, and perseverance allowed Bob to overcome many challenges early on in order to succeed in life. Bob told me that he avoided spending time with his “narcissistic” mother at the very early age of 7, when he started working in his father’s hardware store. He would make a dollar if he worked the entire day and many times, he would take his earnings over to the local bank to get rolls of pennies, to find anything unique. Bob told me that watching the different types of currency going in and out of the store cash register is what sparked his interest in coin collecting, geography and travel. Unfortunately, Bob’s younger sister wasn’t able to tag along to the hardware store and they didn’t get to spend much time together as kids. Learning isolation techniques at an early age may have contributed to his introverted ways.

Bob’s nose was always in a book, absorbing information. Taking education seriously, it was in his early twenties that he earned a master’s degree in Science from Florida State University. Five years later he earned a masters in Philosophy, and the following year a masters in Psychology, both from UC San Diego. Self-diagnosed with Aspergers (ASD), Bob was able to soar into his own personal interests. During the years of popular magazines, Bob told me he had 12 different technology subscriptions at one time! He was heavily invested in a certain tech company, and probably one of the most digitally fluent 81-year-olds I’ve ever met. He sent me emails from his favorite YouTube Chef, Jean Pierre, favorite musician, Beth Hart, favorite podcast, The Bulwark.

Another of Bob’s passions was humanitarianism. He told me how he made a point to donate to organizations that are addressing the carbon footprint of humanity, himself included. For decades, he gave funds to tree planting efforts outside of the U.S. This inspired many trips over the years because he really wanted to see with his own eyes if that money was being allocated properly. That’s why Bob would travel to certain parts of the world and witness the growth being made. He told me that it felt so nice that he was contributing to this cause that made a real impact on the less fortunate parts of the world.

Somewhere around 1990, Bob (aka), “Captain Raintree”, took up living on and sailing a yacht for five years. Cruising up and down the Panama canal, visiting countless island destinations, becoming a member of as many yacht clubs as possible. Postcards were his thing! Sending and receiving generous stories of adventure as in one postcard from the Himalayan mountains Bob wrote, “It’s not fun being knee-deep in snow, wearing only your Birkenstocks.” He was trying to plan an exit from the summit and having a hard time finding a crew to get him down the mountain. Bob told me of a scary moment when the exhaust system on his yacht became clogged and a backdraft of carbon monoxide began seeping into the vessel while he was asleep. Miraculously, a loud noise from the critters that caused the clog in the first place woke him up just in time to escape. I believe that’s what ended his days as a lone captain. This story had us cracking up and made me think of cartoon chipmunks causing chaos.

After all of this, he purchased a plot of land in far Northern California on a secluded dirt road, off the grid. This is where he built a spectacular homestead from the knowledge attained through DIY construction books and magazines. Although the home was slightly unfinished on the inside, it was so beautiful, and so unique, with built in cabinetry everywhere. Windows at every corner of the eye, super structurally-sound, unlike a lot of (DYI) cabins around Humboldt that are minimally built. For decades, Bob woke up to beautiful cascading views of Chalk Mountain during the spring, summer and fall of each year. The winter months sent him traveling as far away as possible, reaching all the destinations that he had dreamed of from those childhood books and coins.

Bob told me that, eight months previous to the cancer diagnosis, he was reflooring his apartment in Italy, soaking up information through any number of devices with a Wi-Fi connection, and making his way around very well. Two rounds of chemotherapy drastically reduced the quality of life that he’d always known. Bob told me,”I’ve lived an amazing life up until the chemo.” I think it was the moment of realization that he would never get that quality of life back that he decided to be at peace with the process. I was there when they gave him the news that it was not months that he had left, but only weeks and I didn’t really want to accept the truth that Bob needed to hear. He actually made me feel better about his situation by telling me stories and achievements from his past.

In Bob’s words, “look around here, every relic in this house holds a memory and a story behind it.” He kept asking me to grab things, like an eager child with a big smile! I would happily rush off and get whatever item he asked for. He would look over each item knowing that this would be the last time he would see them. Connecting the relic to the memory was very touching to watch and I enjoyed listening to all of the stories. (Bob kept every slip of paper from every port where he harbored, every flight, currency exchanged, etc, nothing was left undocumented) I wasn’t afraid to ask the difficult questions and he was glad to answer. There were a few romantic interest stories from long ago, some sad and others happy. Coincidentally, with the same name as my own mother, Bob talked joyfully about the one that got away. A life of solitude isn’t for everyone, but this was absolutely the life for “Frank” Bob.

All anyone can hope for is a peaceful voice surrounding you in the final moments when uncertainty becomes realization. What a great honor for me to be the person he needed in these very real and final moments when his quality of life took a dramatic shift. My hope is that Bob was able to visualize a clear path through the breezy redwood forest of fully blooming huckleberry and into the brightest light of the universe, exactly where he needed to be …

I’ve tried to share (to the best of my ability) with the world the amazing life story of my friend, (world traveler, Frank) Bob Wallace, whose life might have otherwise sifted through the hourglass of time and into the unknown.

When my dad and I were helping clear out the ranch house after Bob passed, we realized that Bob kept nearly everything he ever touched that meant something to him. This made it quite difficult to just get rid of it all. We had the dumpster and were tossing all of the funky things in and packing other stuff to be donated or saved. There was this box that had a jingle to it and I figured we should save this one. Bob had given my youngest son (also obsessed with foreign currency/geography) a collection of coins, before he passed. Days later, I realized this box held some of Bob’s most treasured moments from his worldly travels, a few little notepads with every country, and all the food he ate, passports, postcards, letters of love, yacht club memberships, ticket stubs, museum visit stamp cards, endless tiny strips of foreign paper. Everything was meant to be found in that box for a reason.

There’s a story to be told in every corner of the world, no matter how small your circle becomes. What an extraordinary life of adventure, romance, and mystery, as he traveled the world and studied the lives of others with a true passion. In passing, Bob left behind very generous donations to several organizations that not only benefit his local community but across the globe. “Frank Bob” is survived by his sister Jan and brother-in-law Billy Vallely and their children. Thank you, Jan, for giving me some of these special worldly trinkets that hold stories and memories of an incredible life filled with such love for adventure and solitude. And a very special thank you to Hospice of Humboldt for providing immediate end of life care.

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