The Dave Brubeck Quartet was playing softly on the radio. Rain tapped gently on the car’s rooftop in a rhythm that made the morning feel relaxed, much like the Jazz that filled the air. A gentle start to a morning at service.
Inside the kitchen at St. James Cathedral, the hum of quiet purpose filled the space, punctuated by the purposeful shuffle of meal prep, the clatter of trays, and the occasional low chuckle between friends.
This is where I met Bob.
Bob is a retired physician who once opened and ran a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit in Sacramento. He and his wife, Janet, moved to Seattle some years ago to be closer to family. These days, instead of delivering critical care in a hospital setting, Bob shows up at the cathedral kitchen Monday through Friday, from 8am to noon, offering a different kind of care—measured not in vitals and charts, but in consistency, presence, and community.
Bob begins his day by ‘gleaning’ food from local grocery stores, taking stock of the inventory, and bringing it back to the kitchen. Back in the kitchen, he stocks the shelves and plans for the week ahead. The kitchen is open to the public five days a week, serving roughly 150 hot meals daily to guests that come through. The space is welcoming & warm, a stark contrast to the gray skies peeking in from the kitchen windows.
Tom, the director of the food bank, is a quiet man with a gentle strength. He has Parkinson’s, and though his hands may tremble, his resolve certainly does not. Retirement doesn’t seem to be on his radar. Bob jokes that he’s Tom’s “left-hand man,” a lighthearted nod to their unspoken understanding and easy camaraderie. Few words spoken between the two men are enough to relay the depth and ease of their friendship.
In our conversation, Tom shared a story about the trust Bob has earned:
“He’s the first volunteer to have a permanent set of keys, granting him access to anywhere on the Cathedral’s campus” he said, smiling.
“Anywhere except the bookstore” Bob joked with a sly smirk “I can’t be trusted in there.”
“I don’t know what changed the mind of the keyholder, but I told them what a great person Bob is. He’s incredibly organized, a real go-getter.”
Bob, ever modest, seemed mildly bemused by the gesture. But it was more than symbolic. In a way, Bob has the keys—to the pantry, to the kitchen. But also, to something less tangible: to trust, to community, to connection through service.
What struck me most during my morning with Bob was the quiet integrity of a life lived in service. Volunteering, in its best form, is about more than just “giving back.” It’s about showing up—with your gifts, your presence, your willingness to serve—and allowing those things to become part of something greater. Bob’s journey from the NICU to the soup kitchen isn’t just about a shift in retirement. It’s about a deep continuity in purpose: to serve others with skill, love, and humility.
As a JV EnCorps member, Bob embodies what it can look like when we align our lives with service. It’s not about heroics. It’s about presence. It’s about relationships. And yes, sometimes, it’s about having the keys and knowing how to use them.
Wonderful and inspiring article about Bob. So glad you are sharing Bob’s work.