When I met Bob Katzman through a dating site in 2019, we connected. Both in our 60’s, single (after years of marriage had come to an end) and aching with our loneliness and isolation. We struggled through the awkward and strange (to us) new mechanics of online relationships.
We talked a lot, by text, then on the phone. During this time, I read a great number of Bob’s stories on his website. His writing was moving, emotional. The odd circumstances of his life were unbelievable! But I did believe.
With an outlandish plot rivaling fiction, the very real twists and turns of Bob’s life, and the insights he’d gained, were compelling. His stories and poems about his remarkable experiences rang so true to me.
Robert M. Katzman has the ability to guide his readers’ experience as he leads them through detailed scenes; those common and everyday, or unfamiliar.
Whether one has lived through similar occurrences – or not – he places us inside his plot, where we sense and feel the breezy joy of a young boy’s glorious summer’s day bike ride… all the while, slamming our psyches into the troubling context of the rider: a small child, churning away at the pedals, secretly and endlessly being tormented and violently assaulted, day and night – by his own mother.
He so accurately captures the poignant, innocent yearning of a lonely, isolated little boy reveling in the wonder of a long-ago South Side Chicago prairie: full of natural beauty, alive with a thousand creatures: spider-webs glistening with dew, busy insects, shiny rocks, and birds calling across the open fields.
We look closer as young Bob, a budding artist, gets lost in drawing and learning about all he sees… momentarily freed from his prison of horror: the house that he inevitably must return to at dusk. We recoil at his homecoming: the slaps, kicks, and punches this child must endure. Bob’s books are full of stories about his terrifying childhood; about the terrible rage he felt towards his cruel, poisonous mother – which came out sideways, in heated confrontations and fierce schoolyard fist-fights. Any playground bully who tried to torture him (or other unfortunate kids) felt the wrath of this furious, battered boy.
In high school, the stakes escalated. Bob fought back against the anti-Semitic hate and slurs of classmates, ignorant bullies, and others who tried to mistreat him – with no regard for any consequences to himself. Inexplicably finding justice and vindication; it was a life-changing experience.
No question – his mother was severely mentally ill. Her bullying and viciousness towards Bob were so egregious it was hard to fathom. But the SOURCE of this child’s pain was untouchable. Because of very early and often-repeated warnings to Bob by his father, he learned he should never – ever – under ANY circumstance, hit a girl. This became imprinted upon Bob. He simply could not bring himself to hit back at his mother. A feat of self-control? A victimized mind-set? Reading about this, I had a tough time understanding.
Like so many survivors even today – but especially for victims at that time back in the 1950’s and 60’s – his beatings were a dark secret. The abuse was never known to anyone, even though he tried asking for help. His extended family never believed him or listened to his pleas for intervention. Even when he tried to run away from his prison, the police unknowingly brought him back again and again to face more violence.
I would have crumbled; given up in those circumstances. How did he survive?
Bob’s parents argued in explosive, volatile incidents. He describes having to suddenly duck for cover – as china, cookware, and sharp objects were launched right past his ear in his father’s direction. In time, his folks split up. His father left their house. The broken-ness of their family also affected his sister, who was entirely emotionally frozen and perpetually absent from home, or as much as she could manage to be. She was ice-cold; completely disconnected from Bob in every way; with the exception of a number of toxic incidents where she, like their mother, was quite cruel to him.
For nine years Bob had no one to protect him. At the age of 14, he finally broke free. The desperate fugitive raced away from his raging abuser at midnight in the pouring rain. Mercifully, he found a safe haven across town in his father’s home in Hyde Park.
The run-away’s secure respite of living with his dad, (despite heavy financial hardships for both of them), Bob worked several jobs to begin making his own way; and starting to attend an expensive, prestigious high school, where he had been accepted through special testing that his father had sought for him. This elite University of Chicago Laboratory High School was an amazing opportunity for him. But the fourteen-year-old was faced with the daunting task of coming up with the extravagant tuition all alone somehow – even as he was basically supporting himself. His father could provide love, shelter and moral support – but little more. He and his dad became very close; remaining life-long friends as well as their bond of father and son.
The window on his young life that Bob provided readers revealed a tenacity that impressed me. This scrappy kid had so much moxie; stepping into the role and responsibilities of adulthood long before his time. Picturing myself as a child of fourteen, I had a very tough time imagining a young Nancy being up to the kinds of challenges Bob faced without flinching as he worked seven days a week, uncomplaining, to earn his tuition.
As Bob grew, worked, and studied, he managed for the most part to avoid most of the schoolyard conflict of his grammar school past. He was acutely aware of the opportunity this high school presented.
And yet, when he was sorely pressed by three older anti-Semitic classmates, his fury boiled over. He felt it was impossible not to retaliate against them in an explosively violent manner, opting for expulsion rather than submit any longer. The unlikely and surprising results were not being censured and dismissed from high school, but instead fairness in how his response to the bullies was judged.
His fierce retaliation was accepted by his teacher as warranted. Thankfully, the explosive incident did not interfere with his school progress. This opened Bob’s eyes to new possibilities: recognition by compassionate teachers of his right to defend himself and access to justice and hope.
One of Bob’s stories describes a huge argument over the phone with his mother. Though he was now living away from her – free from her physical abuse, his mother’s unrelenting disdain and callous disregard of him never stopped; her scorn continuing to enrage the wiry but strapping 17-year-old. After having been painfully forced to submit to her cruelty for so many years, he decided that THIS time – he’d had ENOUGH.
At 17, he had grown taller, stronger, and more powerful. Bob decided it was time to take revenge on her, and rushed over to his former torture-cell to finally teach his brutal mother a lesson; to take retribution, once-and-for-all. Bob was crazed; seething. He was determined to go back to that house, wreck his mother’s office and smash her face in. White-hot rage – as destructive to himself as he wanted it to be towards her – consumed the teen. Upon arriving, he cornered his angry mother; who cringed in fear at the very sight of his face, dark red with fury – realizing unmistakably with a miserable, sinking jolt that the tables now were completely turned. She huddled into her chair. He shoved a few piles of her paperwork onto the floor; as she had destroyed his art, his possessions, everything he’d ever created there. He moved in closer to her shrinking figure and raised his hand to strike her.
Then – to his complete shock, Bob discovered he was STILL unable to hit her! As she cringed in fear of her much larger teen-aged son, he wanted to feel triumphant… to really let her have it! But to his great dismay, he only saw a flash of himself cowering there.
Overwhelmed with the returning rush of feelings, it stopped his rampage. Calming down, realizing who he was – merciful despite what she had done to him for so many years – Bob accepted that, for him: no matter what life brought, HE WOULD NOT – COULD NOT – BE HER.
Bob was utterly stunned by this unexpected turn of events. The surprising impact of this realization created a powerful transformation in him. His sudden recognition of the enduring strong inner core of compassion inside him was so freeing. His rage fell away, delivering him from his mother’s shackles. This portal to Grace gave his life a new and positive direction. It opened a universe of options for him.
His future shifted from uncontrollably acting out his anger (and inevitably carrying on the horror for all time) – to coming face-to-face with the humanity of his spirit and embracing it; as if suddenly transported to a higher plane. This new-found comprehension altered his thinking in a way that shattered the repeating cycle of violent action and reaction – breaking the chain of abuse. It changed his outlook in a fundamental and essential way, allowing him the chance for a happy future as a caring husband, father, and grandfather.
When I first discovered so many alarming details of his upbringing, he sounded rather scary – and put me on guard. And yet what impressed me most about the gentle man I was coming to know was that Bob was someone who revealed the truth about himself, and overcame the bonds of this madness.
Even as a kid, he championed the victim who was bullied; rejecting the chance to hurt others for no reason. When it came down to a fist-fight, he wrestled his opponents to the ground and urged them to stay down – to give in, stop hurting him, and let it go. He was far too aware of what getting punched in the face actually felt like. But he never backed down from a bully, no matter the cost to him.
After that fateful incident with his mother, Bob’s journey took a more benevolent path.
He came to really understand and see himself more clearly, to begin to heal. He became able to confront and deal with the twisted emotions that had ruled him. Therapists he worked with were greatly surprised – at the strength of his inner core, and his resilient capacity for healing. His willingness to release the bitterness and hate that was sucking the very life out of his existence. Not everyone who has faced such a tragic beginning is so lucky – and determined enough – to start over, grateful for a second chance.
Bob and I evolved from words, voices and faces on a dating website to eventually meeting in person.
There were sparks!
The feeling was romantic and sweet, but hesitant between these two awkward seniors – new again to dating, chancing to try at love once more. We began to go out. In my starting to get to know Bob, my sense of him was that he was a good person; funny, smart and intuitive. As I learned more about his painful past, I wondered about the abuse he had suffered and its effect on his life; both past and present. I was astounded by his resilience through all he had endured. It was as though he’d been tempered by the fire he survived.
To me, the key was this: somehow, Bob had never allowed himself to be defeated, not even as a helpless child. Battered; still he railed against the abuse, steadfastly holding onto his sense of what was good and right.
Though his subjugation was not forgotten, or forgiven; Bob in time grew strong – able to move beyond the madness of his past. As an adult, Bob was able to break free from the violence, but continued to stand up for the marginalized, the underdog, to promote social justice. I loved him for that. He fought back against unfair practices of big business, institutions, or unscrupulous landlords; using his wits and determination. He grew into someone who could accept himself; as he became able to genuinely love.
As a young man, he married, twice: first, at 21, for six years, and the second time for 42 years. These 2 long relationships brought him 4 children in total, including a daughter he and Joyce adopted when he was 46. He now has 5 grandchildren. He enjoys his family, and was always a loving husband and father. His warm and heartfelt friendships, some life-long since his childhood, sustain him today.
As Bob and I spent more time together, I saw that this remarkable man was, indeed, gentle and measured, like my first impression; despite the hardships he’d faced.
The more I learned about Bob’s background, the more amazed I was that the person inside him was so tender and loving; somehow able to break free from the chain of abuse and escape becoming dangerously angry and embittered himself. Instead, he directed his fierce emotions in a positive way: to fight against injustice towards himself, his family, or others.
Our love affair grew into a deeper bond.
We traveled together, on exciting, romantic trips across the U.S. and Europe. We saw glorious art museums, natural wonders, visited tiny harbor towns, and walked everywhere. We have been there for each other when the chips were down… and there have been times for both of us when we’ve really needed a friend. We’ve realized we share many dreams, values and similarities, despite our obvious differences.
I was content as things were, enjoying the close relationship we shared. But Bob had other ideas. He popped ‘The Question’ on New Year’s Eve. I was floored! We married in a lovely ceremony in Spring of 2022.
Right now, we are working together to publish 24 books featuring Bob’s 600 stories and poems. My art background and skills as a graphic designer fit in so well with his talent for writing.
Discovering these eerie kinds of coincidences has been so common in our getting to know one another, that after a time we just accept the Fates that brought us together. We figure that the good things between us were just meant to be.
He keeps writing about his experiences both past and present. His present-day contentment, gratitude and adventuresome spirit seem to fuel his creativity, making him quite prolific. Through his stories, he offers people an opportunity to wear the role of a powerless, victimized little boy, and glimpse the dark, shrouded complexity of being beaten for nine years as a child. He offers us insight; sharing honestly how his life’s harsh experiences transformed him as a man: creating inspiration and hope. We, too, may overcome our demons.
I grew to understand and admire Bob’s unlikely trajectory and am grateful every day for his companionship, support and love. I feel it’s a miracle he was not consumed by the hatred and chains of the legacy of abuse.
His courage and willingness to expose his tragic experiences may inspire others who suffer alone. He bares his unvarnished truth to shine a light on this painful subject that many experience in secret and humiliated silence. I feel certain that exposing these gut-wrenching stories is healing therapy for Bob; to help others see they are not alone in the dark. I see his constant writing as a kind of caring self-redemption Bob weaves into his life to soothe the wounds of that small battered child that he once was.
Bob has rejected the savage for the civilized. Yet he remains unwilling to be mistreated, ever again. His readers find his stories and poetry poignant and stirring. Having been knocked down by life again and again, we root for this determined soul who will not give up. He makes us care when it’s hard to have the strength to care; puts the essence of nature into words that sustain and fulfill us. Grateful for every day, he forges gratifying connections between us all, that we didn’t realize were there all along.
Nancy Alexander