Bridges: Bob Gibb never backs down from adversity

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Bob Gibb never lets a challenge slow him down. He remains determined, even in the face of a disease that will slowly steal his mind.

Despite losing his arm at 25, Gibb has succeeded in both work and athletics. As co-owner of the Awl Shoppe, Gibb has helped Saskatonians keep their shoes in good working order for decades. He has cycled across Canada and run more than 20 marathons.

Gibb’s positive attitude is infectious. He tells stories with humour and enthusiasm, and has plenty of them. He is known as a hard worker who is endlessly generous with his time and effort.

Now he is facing a new challenge. At 69 years old, Gibb has been diagnosed with Lewy Body Dementia (LBD), a terrible disease with effects similar to both Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s.

LBD is a bleak diagnosis. Its best-known sufferer was comedian Robin Williams. Symptoms include dementia, loss of motor skills and visual hallucinations. His friends and family are faced with the gradual loss of a man they love.

The disease is already affecting his life. He has trouble remembering things and can no longer drive. He had to give up slo-pitch, a longtime passion.

One person not feeling sorry for him is Gibb himself. He still goes to work every day and runs every morning.

He has cleaned up his diet, stopped drinking alcohol and remains determined to keep living as he always has.

His wife Leslie compares it to when he lost his arm and refused to let it ruin his life.

“He just makes these transitions almost flawlessly. He just goes and does it, you know? There’s no whining, no complaining, no ‘Poor me,’ ” she says. “He’s just able to deal with life’s problems and just keep chugging along.”

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Gibb grew up on a farm near Lintlaw, Sask. He credits his father with teaching him to work hard no matter what.

“My old man was an ass-kicker. If I did anything wrong and my ass was there it got kicked,” Gibb says affectionately.

Gibb studied Phys Ed at the University of Saskatchewan from 1967 to 1972. He was on the wrestling team and an avid participant in intramurals. He won the Rusty MacDonald Cup, which goes to the top all-around male athlete at the U of S, in 1972.

It was after university, while working at a work camp outside Whitehorse, that Gibb lost his arm. He was working to unplug a gravel crusher when it came back on unexpectedly.

“Whoosh, my arm landed right at my feet,” he says.

Gibb says he carried his own arm as he climbed off the machine and rode in the back of a pickup truck for the 20 or so minutes into town. Once they got to the hospital, Gibb says he presented his severed arm to a doctor.

“I said, ‘Well doc, I would really like it if you could put this back on.’ He said, ‘Young man, I can’t do that,’ ” he says.

A successful surgery saved the motion in the upper part of Gibb’s arm.

“I walked out of the hospital the next day and moved on,” Gibb says.

He was sent to a rehabilitation centre in Edmonton where they fitted him with an artificial arm and offered physical therapy and counselling. After a week Gibb got bored and asked to leave. He says the head nurse was so impressed with his attitude that she offered him a job trying to help other injured people see their lives weren’t over.

He went back to the family farm and got back to work. He says after awhile he wanted to prove he could be self sufficient and told his parents to go away for a long weekend and let him handle things.

It took a little longer than it used to, but Gibb got through all the chores. He even milked all 13 of their cows.

“I one-handed all those cows. There wasn’t a drop that hit the floor,” he says.

Gibb spent a few months in Europe and a summer in Prince Albert before heading west again. He took a teaching job in Prince George. Before long he got restless again. He and a girlfriend spent four months cycling across Canada, from Nanaimo to St. John’s, Nfld. Gibb ended up spending another two years in St. John’s.

Gibb continued to take part in athletics. He became very good at squash, competing nationally as a para-athlete. He also took up running, something he continues to this day.

His next adventure took him to Nigeria, where he spent two years teaching English. While in Africa he almost lost another appendage, the foot on the same side as his missing arm, to an infection stemming from insect bites.

Gibb says the local doctor worked on his foot without anaesthetic, cutting it open with a pair of scissors. The doctor sent him home with strict instructions to do nothing but rest, read books, and make sure he had a plan to catch a quick flight to Europe for treatment if the foot got worse. Luckily it didn’t and Gibb was able to return to Canada with his remaining limbs intact.

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Gibb’s plan was to take another teaching job back in Saskatchewan, but he arrived in the summer while school was out. His old friend John Byrns had started a shoe repair company, the Awl Shoppe, in Saskatoon. Gibb started working there and before he knew it, he had bought into the shop. It was 1980. He has been there ever since.

He also met Leslie, his future wife, in 1980. They had known each other at the U of S, where she was a few years behind him in the Phys Ed program.

Leslie says she was attracted to his warmth, humour and generosity. She says he was a joy to be around.

“Bob would give you the shirt off his back. He’s unquestionably the kindest, most generous man,” she says.

They were married in 1983. Leslie had two sons from a previous marriage. She says Gibb embraced them as his own, attending every sports game and school function.

“He became their dad and did everything he could to make sure they grew up strong and healthy,” she says.

“Bob unstintingly gave everything he had to those kids.”

His generosity shines through in all facets of his life. Longtime friend and former co-worker Allan Wickstrom cites Gibb’s work with Kiwanis. He says Gibb was legendary for going the extra mile during the club’s yearly apple-selling fundraiser.

“There was nobody busier in the world than Bob, but he always had time,” he says.

At his business, Gibb never hesitates to donate a bag or a gift certificate to anyone looking to raise money.

“Anybody that walks through with a cause, they never go out of there empty-handed,” Wickstrom says.

Gibb is also known by his friends as the driving force behind the Adam’s Lumber slo-pitch team. He had been a fearsome baseball player as a youth, with rumours that a few major league teams had scouted him. After losing his arm he taught himself to catch and throw with the same hand.

For decades Gibb organized the team, attending league meetings and calling to make sure everyone would be there.

“He did everything to keep that team going. A perpetual Energizer Bunny,” Wickstrom says.

It was on the slo-pitch diamond that Gibb’s creeping disease became impossible to ignore.

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In the summer of 2016, Gibb hit the field with a friend.

“We were going to warm-up and throw the ball around. I couldn’t even throw the ball past my toes. That stayed with me for a while,” he says.

There had been warning signs. Gibb’s gait had been changing, his wife Leslie says, but they chalked it up to after-effects of a broken foot.

Wickstrom says some of Gibb’s friends started to notice things as well. The two of them have long been part of what he calls “the Thursday night Legion crew,” a group of guys who meet weekly to have a few drinks and shoot the breeze.

“You could see changes in him. His tiredness at the end of day. Here’s the Energizer Bunny running out of steam,” Wickstrom says.

Gibb says it was impossible to ignore after the incident on the slo-pitch diamond. He saw a doctor and was diagnosed with dementia. His wife says it was hard for Gibb to take.

“He knew he was forgetting things and all that, but once there’s a label on it, it really threw him,” Leslie says.

But even this hurdle didn’t keep him down long. Within a couple days Gibb was determined to fight it, Leslie says.

At first they thought it was probably Alzheimer’s. He read up on it and worked to change his lifestyle. A cleaner diet, no more alcohol, a focus on exercise for both body and mind.

He still goes to work every day, even though he can’t drive. He helps customers and hauls bags, just like he always has.

“I want to keep working. My staff, bless them, just let me do what I want to do,” Gibb says.

The diagnosis of LBD came recently, in mid-November. With it comes medication that can help mitigate the symptoms. Gibb’s resolve is as strong as ever.

“I think if you give into it…,” he pauses, reaching for the words. “You just try to find another way.”

Wickstrom says the diagnosis is hardly a relief, but that it’s good to have a name for what is happening. If anything, Gibb’s friends and family seem to be harder hit by the news than Gibb himself. They know that the coming days will see Gibb fade away, but still remain.

“Bob is one of those guys … he’s such a positive guy. A good guy. There’s a real good bunch of guys that are close to him and have been for 35 years,” Wickstrom says.

“We know we’re going to lose a guy who’s still going to be with us.”

strembath@postmedia.com

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