Welcome to the memorial page for
Robert Thomas Mohr
February 8, 2017 Light a Candle
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A candle was lit by The Back River and Patapsco Wastewater Laboratories
on February 10, 2017 5:13 PM
Message from Velda Smith
February 10, 2017 5:10 PM
Mr. Mohr was a soft spoken gentleman that would smile and share a moment to talk and counsel with me anytime he saw me as we went to our work areas. We talked sports and trains and family. He always had a kind word of encouragement as we shared ideas on how to make our work environment a better place. I prayed that God will bless and keep your family strong through this period of grief. We all know he is engineering that train to heaven's gate. Peace be with you all.
A candle was lit by Velda Smith
on February 10, 2017 4:57 PM
Message from Leslie Berube
February 10, 2017 2:09 PM
I was fresh out of high school and came to work at the Back River Wastewater Treatment Plant. Mr. Mohr was my very first boss. What a kind, patient, and soft spoken gentleman he was to me. I considered myself a lucky girl! He taught me about the plant and about City Government. Our boss/secretary relationship lasted for 17 years until we both were relocated to downtown. We remained friends even when we moved on in our work careers. I will never forget you Mr. Mohr. You were a gentleman and a scholar. Set up a train garden for everyone in heaven to experience. May you rest in peace...
Denise & family - You are in my thoughts and prayers. Keep your memories close to your heart...
Denise & family - You are in my thoughts and prayers. Keep your memories close to your heart...
Message from Pat Boyle
February 10, 2017 2:07 PM
I think Bob would appreciate the train metaphor for life's journey. I wish him safe passage.
From 'Local Wonders,' by Ted Kooser
“Life is a long walk forward through the crowded cars of a passenger train, the bright world racing past beyond the windows, people on either side of the aisle, strangers whose stories we never learn, dear friends whose names we long remember and passing acquaintances whose names and faces we take in like a breath and soon breathe away.
There's a windy, perilous passage between each car and the next, and we steady ourselves and push across the iron couplers clenched beneath our feet. Because we are fearful and unsteady crossing through wind and noise, we more keenly feel the train rock under our legs, feel the steel rails give just a little under the weight, as if the rails were tightly stretched wire and there were nothing but air beneath them.
So many cars, so many passages. For you, there may be the dangerous passage of puberty, the wind hot and wild in your hair, followed by marriage, during which for a while you walk lightly under an infinite blue sky, then the rushing warm air of the birth of your first child. And then so soon, it seems, a door slams shut behind you, and you find yourself out in the cold where you learn that the first of your parents has died.
But the next car is warm and bright, and you take a deep breath and unbutton your coat and wipe your glasses. People on either side, so generous with their friendship, turn up their faces to you, and you warm your hands in theirs. Some of them stand and grip your shoulders in their strong fingers, and you gladly accept their embraces, though you may not know them well. How young you feel in their arms.
And so it goes, car after car, passage to passage. As you make your way forward, the roadbed seems to grow more irregular under the wheels as you walk along. 'Poor workmanship,' you think, and to steady yourself, you put your hands on people's shoulders. So much of the world, colorful as flying leaves, clatters past beyond the windows while you try to be attentive to those you move among, maybe stopping to help someone up from their seat, maybe pausing to tell a stranger about something you saw in one of the cars through which you passed. Was it just yesterday or the day before? Could it have been a week ago, a month ago, perhaps a year?
The locomotive is up ahead somewhere, and you hope to have a minute's talk with the engineer, just a minute to ask a few questions of him. You're pretty sure he'll be wearing a striped cap and have his red bandana around his neck, badges of his authority, and he'll have his elbow crooked on the sill of the open window. How impassively he will be gazing at the passing world, as if he's seen it all before. He knows just where the tracks will take us as they narrow and narrow and narrow ahead to the point where they seem to join.
But there are still so many cars ahead, and the next and the next and the next clatter to clatter to clatter. And we close the door against the wind and find a new year, a club car brightly lit, fresh flowers in vases on the tables, green meadows beyond the windows and lots of people who together — stranger, acquaintance and friend — turn toward you and, smiling broadly, lift their glasses"
From 'Local Wonders,' by Ted Kooser
“Life is a long walk forward through the crowded cars of a passenger train, the bright world racing past beyond the windows, people on either side of the aisle, strangers whose stories we never learn, dear friends whose names we long remember and passing acquaintances whose names and faces we take in like a breath and soon breathe away.
There's a windy, perilous passage between each car and the next, and we steady ourselves and push across the iron couplers clenched beneath our feet. Because we are fearful and unsteady crossing through wind and noise, we more keenly feel the train rock under our legs, feel the steel rails give just a little under the weight, as if the rails were tightly stretched wire and there were nothing but air beneath them.
So many cars, so many passages. For you, there may be the dangerous passage of puberty, the wind hot and wild in your hair, followed by marriage, during which for a while you walk lightly under an infinite blue sky, then the rushing warm air of the birth of your first child. And then so soon, it seems, a door slams shut behind you, and you find yourself out in the cold where you learn that the first of your parents has died.
But the next car is warm and bright, and you take a deep breath and unbutton your coat and wipe your glasses. People on either side, so generous with their friendship, turn up their faces to you, and you warm your hands in theirs. Some of them stand and grip your shoulders in their strong fingers, and you gladly accept their embraces, though you may not know them well. How young you feel in their arms.
And so it goes, car after car, passage to passage. As you make your way forward, the roadbed seems to grow more irregular under the wheels as you walk along. 'Poor workmanship,' you think, and to steady yourself, you put your hands on people's shoulders. So much of the world, colorful as flying leaves, clatters past beyond the windows while you try to be attentive to those you move among, maybe stopping to help someone up from their seat, maybe pausing to tell a stranger about something you saw in one of the cars through which you passed. Was it just yesterday or the day before? Could it have been a week ago, a month ago, perhaps a year?
The locomotive is up ahead somewhere, and you hope to have a minute's talk with the engineer, just a minute to ask a few questions of him. You're pretty sure he'll be wearing a striped cap and have his red bandana around his neck, badges of his authority, and he'll have his elbow crooked on the sill of the open window. How impassively he will be gazing at the passing world, as if he's seen it all before. He knows just where the tracks will take us as they narrow and narrow and narrow ahead to the point where they seem to join.
But there are still so many cars ahead, and the next and the next and the next clatter to clatter to clatter. And we close the door against the wind and find a new year, a club car brightly lit, fresh flowers in vases on the tables, green meadows beyond the windows and lots of people who together — stranger, acquaintance and friend — turn toward you and, smiling broadly, lift their glasses"
A MONET'S GARDEN TABLE BASKET was sent on February 10, 2017
Thinking of you all at this sad time. Auntie Delia, Mandy, Sarah, Paul, Jessica and JJ x
Message from Ralph Grutzmacher
February 9, 2017 11:07 PM
Denise and family,
I am so sorry to hear of Bob's death. I valued his friendship and his wry sense of humor for all those years we knew each other. He was an insightful and wise person. I never heard him say anything negative about any other person during those years. He was always helpful and willing to share. I will miss him.
I am so sorry to hear of Bob's death. I valued his friendship and his wry sense of humor for all those years we knew each other. He was an insightful and wise person. I never heard him say anything negative about any other person during those years. He was always helpful and willing to share. I will miss him.
Message from Mike, Tracey, Nathan and Tim Bryan in Australia
February 9, 2017 5:54 PM
Sincerest condolences to David, Jason, and Jennifer and their families at this difficult time. We're thinking of you with much love.
Message from Dottie Weidner
February 9, 2017 5:48 PM
Dear Denise and Family:
My deepest and heartfelt sympathy on the loss of your husband, father and grandfather and brother. My thoughts and prayers are with you at this difficult time of grief and mourning. May Bob be granted eternal rest and peace. May you be granted comfort, compassion and love as you mourn Bob's loss. I have prayed for Bob throughout his struggle with cancer and hope he passed away in peace. God's Blessings and Love, Dottie Weidner (neighor on Bellhall Drive
My deepest and heartfelt sympathy on the loss of your husband, father and grandfather and brother. My thoughts and prayers are with you at this difficult time of grief and mourning. May Bob be granted eternal rest and peace. May you be granted comfort, compassion and love as you mourn Bob's loss. I have prayed for Bob throughout his struggle with cancer and hope he passed away in peace. God's Blessings and Love, Dottie Weidner (neighor on Bellhall Drive
Message from Robin KLump
February 9, 2017 1:18 PM
May God's love surround and comfort the loved one's of Mr. Mohr. I pray God be with you and comfort you in his love and give you the strength to carry on. My prayer and wish for Mr .Mohr is that he soar with the angels. God bless, one and all!
A candle was lit by Robin Klump
on February 9, 2017 1:11 PM
A candle was lit by Robin Klump
on February 9, 2017 1:10 PM
Message from Paul Calamita
February 9, 2017 1:05 PM
Condolences to Bob's family and all who had the true pleasure of knowing this extraordinary man. He was generous to everyone and cared deeply about his family, co-workers and the citizens he had the privilege to serve. In his quiet, caring, yet effective way, Bob made a positive difference in many, many lives. We will miss you but always think of you (with a smile) when on "Mohr Street" at the plant. God Bless.
A candle was lit by Carol Scroggins Rose, R.I.P. Baltimore City DPW Ashburton
on February 9, 2017 10:42 AM
Message from Ronald Araujo
February 9, 2017 9:50 AM
Bob was never anything but polite and friendly. I've been with the City in DPW for 29 years, and I have never heard ANYONE say something against him, and that's a very rare thing here, even among the well loved and respected. People like him are diamonds. It would be easy enough to mourn him, but I can't because it seems more important to celebrate him. In a world that is in upheaval, his demeanor will serve as a lasting light of example to help guide our actions.
Message from Joseph Narock
February 9, 2017 9:45 AM
My condolences to the family, may he rest in peace.
A candle was lit by Joseph Narock
on February 9, 2017 9:42 AM
A candle was lit by Peace and prayers to the family. RIP Bob
on February 9, 2017 9:35 AM
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