We always thought we were Cooks

From Anne Rogers

I flew home to Connecticut for Bob's funeral last Friday. On the drive home from the airport my father, John Rogers, told me that my younger brother never knew that Bob Cook (we always referred to him using his first and last name as kids, and still do) wasn't his uncle. I told him that I was a teenager before it ever occurred to me to ask just how we were related to the Cooks. It turns out, we're not! But with Bob, everyone was family, and he never would have let me believe otherwise – not when I would sit on his lap and braid his beard at Thanksgiving, when he'd take hoards of children biking at Hammonasset or when our conversations began to get deeper and more relevant as I got older. Bob leaves a warm and lasting legacy, a family that still feels like my own and countless wonderful memories. Thanks for everything.