January 9th, 2010 | Dave Johnson

I am currently near Key Largo, Fl parked next to his brother, Jack. One of the first things I learned about Jack was the loss of his brother. I, too, lost a Brother, and it has hung with me for over 18 years. I have come to know Rob in a most unique way: Jack is playing two of Rob's Guitars here in Fla. We have played together once so far and Jack actually allowed me to play one of those Guitars..a Koa wood example. It is simply beautiful and played like a guitar SHOULD play. Yesterday, Jack played several of his memorized tunes with my wife and Sue in Attendance...with a far-off audience in the next camp. They were mesmerized. Jack was playing his Solid Rosewood model. It looked easy to play but the sound was booming, clear, crisp...Rob's craftsmanship and artistry is incredible...it is alive here in these instruments. I will close in saying that this loss is deeply felt by those he left here, and the sadness is clearly resonating in his Brother and his Wife....Rob's voice is heard through his brilliant Guitars, and that voice is indeed appreciated very much. I look forward to a deepening friendship with his brother and wife and I hope to hear more of these instruments and more from those he touched. ----Dave Johnson, Tavernier, Fla, 9 Jan 2010, 11:45a

January 1st, 2010 | Marty

I didn't know Rob well, or for long, but I really liked him. The last time we saw each other was on Guemes in about 1981, and he said he was thinking of becoming a luthier. I'd hoped to run into him over the years, but until 20 minutes ago, didn't know what had become of him. I'm so sorry we never re-connected, but at least we knew each other for a short time. Steve Gonzalez, if you see this, please get in touch with me!!

November 22nd, 2009 | Jim Redgate

Beautiful looking instruments, and the photos tell the story of a well loved, talented and creative friend. My condolences to your family and friends from a fellow luthier. I know your instruments are still speaking for you, Jim.

November 8th, 2009 | Jos van Oost

I met Robert Girdis after a John Renbourn concert at the Tractor Tavern in Seatle. He told John he made parlor guitars and build one with him in mind. John went of the next day to another gig in another town, but I went to visit Robert. He showed me what he called his calling card guitar. A little ebony guitar, I fell i love straith away and a year later when I came back to America, I am living in The Netherlands, I saw him at the Healtburg Guitarfestival in 2007. I decided to buy the guitar and pick it up in December. This year I missed Robert at the festival in Santa Rosa and wondered why. It is a great loss, such a nice guy and such a brillant Luthier. The Girdis i bought was mentioned in a book about the best guitars in the world, Handmade, handplayed. I was shocked to find out he is no longer among us. All the best for all the people who ment a lot to Robert. A proud owner of a Ebony Parlor Guitar made by Robert Girdis.

October 21st, 2009 | David Freeman

I met Rob when I attended an open house day at the NW school where he was apprenticing. I met him again 17 years later at a GAL convention where we ended up jammin together then discovered our earlier connection. Rob's friendship was genuine, A couple years ago he traded me a set of Myrtle wood for a small guitar , "cuz I like making them" He asked me when i saw him next if I had done it yet ,, Ironically I constructed this guitar in May 2009, I was looking forward to showing Rob. I will miss him . I trust you will find Peace & Good wood.

October 5th, 2009 | mike carr

I only met Rob once, at the Winfield festival in 2008. He spent a few hours with us in a jam circle. He was a very likeable guy, and I know a lot of people cared about him. And, he made a very nice guitar. I'm sorry we're without him.

September 30th, 2009 | Mark Roberts

What a tragic loss for everyone that knew Rob. What an wonderful soul of a man. I had the pleasure to meet Rob at one of the NW Handmade Instrument Shows in Portland, and was immediately amazed at the level of detail that went into his guitars and blown away at the cannon of a Parlor guitar he performed on. Always kind, always sharing. Celebrate his Life.

September 13th, 2009 | de Bailliencourt Olivier

Je suis un luthier français qui admire les guitares de Robert Girdis. J'ai été choqué ce matin en consultant son site de voir son décès. Je me pose la question de la raison d'un suicide quand on a une passion telle que la lutherie. Personnellement cette passion m'aide à vivre et à avancer dans la vie.

September 8th, 2009 | Patrick Pryor

Thirty years ago I apprenticed alongside Rob in Seattle. I built my first guitar and I believe Rob was also building his first; at least it was his first “real” guitar. We all built almost the same instrument, a rosewood classical made to the same drawings. I saw Rob as one of the older guys, I was twenty he was twenty-four. I remember his work as clean, patiently executed and done right the first time. I don’t thing Rob finished his guitar before I went back to St. Louis. I wasn’t around when he strung it up played it for the first time. Before I left Rob took the time to use some of his few words to compliment me on my engineering skills and workmanship. That compliment coming form him has meant a lot to me over the years. I found out quickly that it was much easier to sell crosses, alters and fireplace mantels than guitars. I didn’t become the “Famous Guitar Maker” that we all were dreaming about. I lost touch with Rob and my other class mates partially because I was a little embarrassed that I wasn’t making instruments. Two years ago I found out about Rob’s beautiful, amazing guitars. I felt proud that one of us had not only became a guitar maker but Rob became one of the very best that has ever lived.

September 3rd, 2009 | Jim Rymsza

I am so sad about this terrible tragedy. My memories of Rob are filled with music, dance and his wonderful, calming spirit. He was a very generous and kind soul. His spirit lives on via the instruments he created for so many. Peace. -Jim

August 28th, 2009 | Ed McMorrow

I Met one of Robs guitars before I met the maker. I played Ed Litllefields Girdis guitar while tuning Mr. Littlefieds Steinway piano, (I have considerable experience working on Steinway pianos) and the words that popped out of my mouth while picking a few notes, chords and scales was "if Steinway built guitars this is how they would sound and feel." Some time later I was able to meet Rob when we were both visiting Mr. Littlefield. His gentle and deep sensibilities were easily felt. I could also sense his strong musical direction towards tone and feel quality in musical instruments. An instrument maker must have a strong artistic vision for the utility of each work; how an instrument fits the user and the musical "voice" of the player. Rob was a master at this. I will miss not having Rob here with us, and I am grateful for the time we did have together.

August 20th, 2009 | Ethan Wiley

I occasionally check up on Rob's site to see what amazing guitars he's created lately. I'm stunned and devastated to learn of his passing. I met Rob a few years back at the Strawberry Music Festival-- after seeing and hearing his mindblowingly amazing guitars through Ed Littlefield, Jr-- his reputation preceded him. My first reaction to seeing one of his guitars was, "This guy pays way too much attention to the fancy details -- sure, they're beautiful, but they can't possibly play anywhere near as good as they look." Boy was I wrong. It sounded even better than it looked. His guitars were awesome on every level. Anyway, after meeting him we hit it off-- he loved going over my Loar mandolin millimeter by millimeter-- and being of about the same musical skill, we had a grand time playing bluegrass and old-timey tunes together. We also learned (in the small world category) that we had a mutual connection with the sculptor Phil McCracken -- he'd apprenticed with Phil and Phil had been a mentor for my father (an artist) -- and I'd spent many summers at Phil's house on Guemes Island as a child. And, although it may sound like a cliché, Rob truly was one of the nicest, humblest, most generous, talented people I have ever met in my life. My condolences to Rob, his close friends and his family.

August 20th, 2009 | Les Stansell

I first met Rob in 1978, Seattle where we apprenticed together at NW School of instrument Design. We immediately became close friends and have remained so through the years. He was a man of few but chosen words as he preferred to let his work and his music do the talking. He was an inspiration and I will miss him.

August 19th, 2009 | Julie Cable-Powell

I recently came to Rob's website to show my teenage son what beautiful instruments look like, just to inspire his highschool woodworking class. Although I only knew Rob briefly as a young adult, my sense of him fits with all the tributes I've found here. One thing stands out for me: during a backpacking trip when it snowed unexpectedly, I was cold (of course) and he litteraly gave me the shirt off his back (thermal shirt; mine was wet)! He subsequently flirted with hypothermia. I was young and probably selfish in accepting his warm gesture but the fact that he was so kind and decent is what stands out. God bless all of Rob's family and close friends as they come to grips with this tragedy.

August 16th, 2009 | Pam Wendell and Elmo Shropshire

We were so sad to hear about Robert. In 1991 or 1992 I went into a pawn shop in Northern California to purchase watch batteries. There were a few customers milling around a guitar. I knew nothing about guitars, and when they left I asked the owner what was so special about the guitar. He told me it was simply a beautiful guitar with an amazing sound. I left the shop and halfway home I decided I had to have that guitar for my new boyfriend, a musician. From my car I called the pawn shop to tell him I wanted the guitar. When I went back the next day to purchase it, he told me that since I was buying it he would tell me that it had previously been owned by Dino Valenti of The Quicksilver Messenger Service. Dino wrote the song “C’mon People Now Smile on Your Brother, Get Together When I presented my boyfriend with the guitar he was overwhelmed. It was a huge hit. We called Robert and told him we now had #”07.” He said he was very happy to know that, as he liked to keep track of his guitars. We also sent him a press photo of my (now husband) with his Girdis guitar that appeared in several newspaper articles. Several years later we found Robert at the Strawberry Music Festival. We were very happy to meet him, and took some photos. We found him to be very humble and kind – surprising to us considering the great artist that he was. We were looking forward to seeing Robert at the Healdsburg Guitar Show this past weekend, and were shocked and so distressed to hear the sad news. He will live on in our lives, as we feel he has left a small piece of himself with us. Pam Wendell and my (now husband) Elmo Shropshire (aka Dr. Elmo of “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer”)

August 15th, 2009 | Terry Bohme

I grew up with Rob from 7th grade thru 12th and have talked over the many years with him. We were both from Santa Clara CA.. A great calm source of friendship. I was always in admiration of the fact that he loved his work and got so much joy from it. Rob was always a positive person and was willing to share what he knew. I was calling him today and just found out. We talked about 2 weeks ago and I am sort of shocked to see this happen. We have a Buchser Class reunion on the 23rd next Sunday and I wanted to see if he could make it. I don't pray often enough but he surely will get one from me.

August 12th, 2009 | Anneclaire De Roos

I’ve wanted to write before now, but like others, I’ve been at a loss for words. Rob is one of the first people who reached out to me when I moved to Seattle. He was a sweet, gentle, and steadfast friend. Although we got together only infrequently over the years for a meal or some tunes, he was always open to connecting in a very real way, no matter how long it had been. Rob was also very generous with his time. He was kind enough to play with me for a fundraiser hoedown party for my friend’s child’s preschool – 2 years in a row. And one year the party even fell on his birthday! He was happy to donate his time & talents, because he truly enjoyed the camaraderie of making music together. It was clear that there was a deep sadness in Rob, and like others, I wish I could have helped. But pain is such a personal experience that it can be very isolating; therefore, everyone has their own path to take in dealing with it. My heart goes out to his loved ones, friends, and family.

August 1st, 2009 | Tom Lindsey

I recall meeting Rob back in 1981 here on Guemes Island. He was looking for a place to build guitars and I happened to have a space in my shop that suited him. He spent about 4 years here in a little room heated by a wood stove surrounded by his early collections of woods developing the techniques that would ultimately lead him to become a master luthier. One thing that I liked to tell people was that I had two master builders occupying my shop because at the other end Dave Hartford was/is building a 52 foot wood schooner and I loved the idea that these two men were working so masterfully with with wood just at different scales. I have one of those first instruments probably made in 82. The tone, action, attention to detail and craftsmanship show the promise of the future builder he became. I have many fond mdmories of picking tunes with Rob and I am so sorry that he made the choice he did. When I first heard about Rob's death I was angry that the world lost such a crerative talent. What a waste I thought. Of all the good people why this one. Who knew that behind that smile and those bright intelligent eyes....who knew? I guess I suspected something when I reflect on our conversations over the years and so I find that I am somewhat angry at myself for not reaching out. We will all miss him!

July 26th, 2009 | Jaime Nichols

Goodbye, Uncle Rob. I loved you in a way I can't express. Your heart was tied to mine, and you were always part of what made the world my home. Thank you for being you and for loving me. I hope that wherever you are, wildflowers are blooming with reckless abandon.

July 24th, 2009 | Diane Hoglund

Beautiful Being, Fancy Man, I miss you, we all miss you...

July 21st, 2009 | Ron Peters

Rob was such a wonderful guy and gentle soul. His artfully built guitars are some of the best I have ever played. My condolences to all who loved him. I will miss him greatly. Sail on my friend...

July 21st, 2009 | Jan Hartford

I don’t remember how Rob ended up on Guemes Island, but by renting a shop space and a living space from Tom Lindsey, Rob became our neighbor on about 10 acres just east of the Guemes crossroads. Renting from Tom meant that Rob shared the shop not only with Tom’s sculpting, but also with Dave Hartford’s boat building. Rob had moved onto the fringe of a community of hard working shipwrights, who with many of the same tools and materials as Rob, built their own large, sometimes coarser instruments, an interesting comparison to Rob’s delicate works of art. He dove in with the rest of us when barn-raising style work parties were organized to make quick significant progress on one of the boats. Rob had recently moved from Skykomish. He professed a distinct distaste for the dreary, sun-reft climate of the deep Cascade foothills. Guemes must have set well with him then, for he stayed many years, and as we watched instruments conceived, born and sent away from his shop, so a number of sculptures and boats passed by outside his door. Rob was quiet and shy. Sometimes I wanted to finish his sentences for him, he was so slow to speak out. He seemed to need to cogitate long on each thought. I found it was just easier to give him big hugs and check out his latest creations. One of my great treasures is a true mother of pearl shell Rob gave me, the kind he used for his tiny inlays.

July 21st, 2009 | Valerie Woolvett (Martin)

I have known Rob for 10 years as a neighbor. What a tremendous loss to our neighborhood. He was a strong advocate for keeping the park safe and was involved in the the community meetings for park planning. It was later in life when I decided to take up guitar again and he recommended Julie and Joe's "Guitar for Grownups". A wonderful recommendation. Observing the building of his shop and seeing the outcome was great. He is deeply missed and it is with great sadness that he is no longer with us. I greatly miss the front yard conversations with him. Wish we could have reached out more.

July 21st, 2009 | jeff winston

I have a dulcimer Rob built for me in 1978 (I think). The workmanship is very fine, but the tone is something special, hard to describe. Just very clean and sweet and penetrating in the right way (when you play it with a band). And the darn thing stays in tune, which I don't know can be said for most dulcimers. The intonation is great. I've heard so many say, who've played Rob's guitars, that they hear his heart and soul (in so many words) in the tone of the instrument. It may have been said too many times of too many people: that their spirit lives on with us. But in the case of Rob, I think it's never been more true.

July 21st, 2009 | Becky Rosencrans

Sitting here, staring at the blinking cursor wanting to write a small tribute to a friend and not knowing what to say…those of us who have known Rob for more than 20 some odd years, who met him while he lived on Guemes when he was just beginning to fly far with his beautiful craft are at a loss for words. He was a beautiful soul. I will remember the shared potlucks, laughter, dancing to “The Ducks” at the Grange, sweet guitar music played with the overtones that oft times melted my soul and such gifts of his spirit. It is hard to imagine the world without him.

July 20th, 2009 | Steve Gonzalez

Rob was my oldest friend. We started playing mountain music during high school in Santa Clara, CA. We created many songs together and played in a small string band for a few years. We spent many backpacking trips together in the high country. Once, when Rob was nearly starving in his early guitar-learning years. I offered to buy a guitar. He made a beautiful hardwood copy of a Martin 218 he was repairing in the shop. Serial number 00002. He also spent 2 years working on the neck/head inlay on my Banjo. Both things of real beauty. He would sometimes drive me crazy with his quiet manners, but our friendship has been strong for these many years. One of my fondest memories with Rob was a warn and tripped-out night on the shore of Guemes Island, talking to the seals..... I will be posting some early California pictures of Rob soon: hope you will like them. It's hard to get to grips with this world with Rob not in it. He continues to visit us nearly every day. Not sure to be pissed or sad with his passing, but will always hold Rob in my Heart.

July 20th, 2009 | Marian Duncan

He was my brother's son. On our way to Alaska several years ago we visited Rob and he served us Salmon. A wonderful Salmon Dinner. We loved it and now eat salmon nearly every week with fond memories of that evening with him.

July 19th, 2009 | Tom and Gerda Nolet

Rob was an old and cherished friend. When we were married in 1980, he was the one (sober) friend who stayed after the reception to help the bride and groom clean the hall. He took pictures at our daughter's birth. We shared many a cup of coffee even after he lost a kidney. We walked a lot of shoreline together. We marveled over his guitars, his workshop, and his baklava. We consoled each other over our losses and shared our good fortunes. He was family, we loved him, and we are deeply saddened. It is a poorer world without this good and generous soul.

July 19th, 2009 | Chris Miller

When I came to Rob's website today I was shocked, stunned and deeply saddened. I did not know Rob very long. In the summer of 2006 I contacted him via email about a parlor guitar, on the recommendation of luthier Steve Grimes. My wife, Rona and I were traveling to Seattle and Rob invited us to his home so I could play some parlors he had. We went there and Rob was very gracious. We stayed for hours. He showed us around his shop. We talked guitars. He made us tea, and I played every guitar he had. I was very drawn to a Mahogany/Adirondack parlor, which, with the helpful nudging of my wife, I bought. That is a decision I will never regret. Rob and I stayed in touch over the next year. In the summer of 2007 we went back to Seattle. I went to see Rob with my parlor in hand. He and I went for lunch to his favorite Greek restaurant, then back to his house where we played some tunes together. He was an extremely talented, warm and kind man. A real pleasure to spend time with. I am grateful for the time we shared, and for this wonderful guitar, which I will cherish and make music with the rest of my days. I named it "Little Bird" because it loves to sing. I LOVE my guitar. Thank you , thank you, thank you Rob. Your voice will continue to be heard through all the instruments you made.

July 17th, 2009 | Orville Johnson

This is so terribly sad and wrong. Rob was a kind, sweet, and sensitive soul. And what a great artist! Its always so hard to think about what kind of pain could drive someone to such a decision and harder still to realize that some people are too sensitive to survive in this sometimes too damn harsh world. Bless you, Rob.

July 16th, 2009 | Janet Healey Imori

I am so sad to hear about Rob. I can't believe he is gone. Although I am an ex-wife we had remained friends and I always admired his great talent and gentle ways. I send my condolences to his family and friends. He was a wonderful sensitive person and will be missed.

July 12th, 2009 | Kathleen Casey (Cunningham)

Oh God, this is so hard. I have the most wonderful memories of Rob. He was a kind of a scamp as a kid and I can remember him peaking around corners at me in the living room of his parent's house while I sat on the sofa with his borther, Jack. I'd sneak a wave at him and we'd have a silent knowing moment that we just liked wach other. As he grew, he turned into a truly thoughtful, gentle, kind and beautiful person and artist. Whenever I talked to him on the phone, or saw him at Christmas gatherings of the family, it would be the same as all those years ago - we'd end up talking for hours and enjoying every minute. He was in many ways the gentle best of what it means to be human. It hurts no end to know that the world ground him down in the awful way it can. For more than one reason this reminds me of a song..."Dance, dance, dance...teach us to be true." Would that we could find our way there. He was true and I cannot put into words how much our hearts hurt and how much he is missed.

July 11th, 2009 | Joe Moore

Rob was playing fiddle at the first old-time jam I ever went to, with my cheap guitar, in Seattle. From there, I got swept into the Canote's Stringband class, and the group of jammers getting together outside the class. Rob was one of the linchpins of that group. Several months later a fiddle landed in my lap, and I got a bow from a stash that Rob had imported. I remember standing in his shop, comparing bows, and me pretending I could tell the difference between a 42.7 gram and 43.2 gram bow. Rob convinced me the heavier one was better, and that's the one I got. I still have it. It's not much of a stretch to say that old-time fiddle music has changed my life, and Rob was there at the start. At one of the sessions in his workshop, he taught me the chords to "Seneca Square Dance," and introduced me to the "Echoes of the Ozarks" cds. I'm still learning tunes from those cds. At a park in Seattle, Rob fiddled the "Pigs Foot" tune, and when we finished, he looked at me and said "nice guitar playing." That compliment still influences how I play. I remember the beauty of Rob singing and fingerpicking his guitar version of "Sail Away Ladies," with Heather singing harmony, at 1am in Tom's living room. And often, our little group of jammers would end our sessions with "Winderslide." Even now, if someone wants me to play that tune, I'll defer until the end of the jam. Rob, it seems that many of us had drifted away from you in the last few years. For that, I hope we can be forgiven, and I hope we can forgive ourselves. But Rob! We weren't ready to play Winderslide just yet....

July 11th, 2009 | Julie Yerxa & Jere Canote

Rob was a true gentle man, and a loyal friend. Our sincere and deepest condolences go out to his family and loved ones. This is a devastating loss to all who knew him. We'd been friends for years when I asked Rob to work with me at "Camp Wannadance". That was 7 years ago, and every March since then he faithfully dropped everything and went out to Fort Flagler and gave his tremendous help for the weekend with the meal preparation and service for 140 hungry dancers. Rob was so meticulous and careful, & he enjoyed cooking. We had so much fun chopping, slicing, baking, roasting, laughing,& crying. It was kitchen comraderie at it's finest. I have sweet memories of Rob there--always waiting for me before he would sit down to our meals, and never leaving the kitchen at the end of the night until I had gone to bed---just in case he was needed. Jere and I loved playing with Rob too. We loved his taste in fiddletunes, and his style and talent, combined with the gorgeus quality and sound of his guitar, as well as his beautiful singing voice. "Green leaf Fancy"," Laughing Boy", and "Roaring River" will always be "Robs Tunes" " In our hearts. We join the ever growing list of friends and family who will forever miss Rob's incredibly kind and generous quiet presence.

July 11th, 2009 | Marsha Reeves

I met Rob at PSGW several years ago and was immediately impressed by his kind, gentle nature. I am so sad to hear of his passing. I pray that he is now at peace. Take care Rob, we miss you and bless you on your journey. Marsha Reeves

July 11th, 2009 | Chris Burt

Rob, I had so much respect for you. You were a kind person, fun to hang out with, and an inspiring luthier of discriminating skill. Peace to your soul.

July 10th, 2009 | Paul Nickelson

Rob, your enthusiasm for fine works and the tools that make them were the common bond we shared. I fondly recall sharing wide grins when we fired up your big bandsaw for the first time after the recomissioning. I dug a nickel out of my pocket change, stood it on edge on the table and it balanced there nearly motionless, passing the "nickel test". Your grin and high 5 will always be with me. Like your other friends I wonder what I could have done to convince you to stay with us had I known but there's no retracing history, just a reinforcement for keeping in closer touch with our friends and be as supportive as we can be when times aren't so shiny. I'm honored indeed to have trod this path with you, albeit for far too short a time. Thank you for having made a very positive difference in this world.

July 10th, 2009 | Tim Barger

I can't begin to express my sadness at the lost of my long time friend. Rob was one of the most kind and gentle souls I've ever known. I will treasure the times we spent together and miss him terribly. Rob was my friend since we were in junior high school and we grew up through I teen years and twenties sharing a lot of good times; water sking, backpacking, beer making, get togethers at friends' houses, a lot dinners and music. I remember when he went up to Seattle to learn to make guitars, he had been working for a little electronics start up in Cupertino (silicon valley) and they didn't have the money to keep him on (Apple). Lately he would stop by my home, usually in July or August, and spend a few days with my wife and family. This year it will be me who visits. Oh, how life turns on just a few points throughout our lives. Rob loved making Guitars that 'lived', everyone had it's own voice as perfect as he could allow it to speak. Rob was a quiet guy with a great sense of humor and a sharp wit. A dear friend. His work will have to speak for him now.

July 10th, 2009 | Sheila Blech Long

Oh Rob, we are all so saddened. It's hard to even think what to say. I'll miss your smile and the way your eyes would show a twinkle and we'd know something funny was coming. I'll miss your playing. I'll miss you.

July 10th, 2009 | Chad Petersen

Lay down my dear brother, lay down and take your rest I want to lay your head upon your savior's breast I love you brother, but love will serve you best I bid you goodnight, goodnight, goodnight I bid you goodnight, goodnight, goodnight Peace Chad

July 10th, 2009 | John Mickelson

I met Rob and Cat Fox at one of the First ASIA conventions in Amherst Mass in about 1990. To call him quiet is an understatement. We did not see each other again for several years but every time I came from Alaska to Folk Life we would connect and it is no exaggeration that his guitars impressed me more than any other I handled or played. Rob was modest and humble with a dry almost sly sense of humour. Over the years we developed a great freindship and I was guest at his house many many times. He always made sure I had a GOOD COFFEE and we would go someplace for a special meal. He was my freind, I slept in his guest bedroom so many times, playing guitars into the middle of the night, I lent him many of my vintage guitars that he would exhibit to his students in recent years to show what the "real" thing was. We were close freinds, so close that at times we would just sit and not have a need to speak. He introduced me to his freinds and always took a side seat as he praised my work, Consumate gentleman, perfect host, he always made everyone feel important and valuable. Rob!! I am angry with you for not calling me in your despair, I don't know the details, you were always so privatebut I am still angry as much as it hurts to miss you and know we won't be playing together again. Thanks for being my freind and helping me through my own despair, I regret I could not cannot reciprocatde. Because you understood me I understand your decision but I am still pissed off. Rest well my freind and those of you who have his instruments, listen closely to the subtletys and remember his smirk and smile. He always had an inside joke. Bye Rob John

July 10th, 2009 | Heather Mitchell

I too met Rob through the Canote's class. He was a sweet, gentle and generous friend and I have plenty of memories of singing old songs and playing tunes with him in his homey and beautiful workshop throughout many late nights. In May, i ran into Rob and Diane by chance at a Michael Mead poetry and music event. I hadn't seen him for several years and I was struck by his heartfelt joy in reconnecting, by his sincere and complete interest. He came soon after to my weekly community dinner and also to my graduation. I am so grateful that I was given the chance to reconnect with him and to be in his presence. It was indeed a gift. In Rob, i saw a tender and deep soul who sometimes felt great sadness. Even so, i was stunned by his choice and as many of you have expressed, I am so sad that I am now powerless to help him, sad that he made this choice alone. I join all of you in sending out love and light to the spirit of Rob Girdis. May his journey be easy and may he return to be among us soon. Heather

July 9th, 2009 | Cecile Morales

Rob had all sorts of talents. They would spill out in his shop and any time he told a story. Rob was my teacher and my friend. He welcomed me with a hug and gave me a pat on the back for a job well done. In his own way, he would even let me know when I was a little out of line. He poured a cup of tea for us on gloomy days. He shared his garden with me. There are strawberries, onions, and flowers galore in my front yard. I feel like the lucky one. You are dearly missed. I wish you had reached for my hand, It is with great sadness that I say good-bye.

July 9th, 2009 | Chuck Botelho

Rob was a fun jammer fine player Great builder A truly nice guy and a pleasure to be hanging out with. my condolences to his loved ones. Rob will live on through his instruments and his music, as well as in the memories of all that he touched in spirit. thanks for the jams Rob

July 9th, 2009 | Susie Schreiber

Rob was such a good person; a sensitive and caring friend whose departure breaks my heart. He will live on in the music played on the instruments that he built so beautifully. A lovely lasting legacy of one who left too soon. Rob, I hope that you have found the peace that you were seeking.

July 9th, 2009 | Adela Santisteban

Many of us heard about this at Fiddle Tunes, and have been processing this sad news. It's a hard thing to even talk about, the subject is so taboo in our society, and it's hard to fathom how someone can be at such depths, but I know it happens. It's always difficult to respond to this type of tragic passing, someone going early in life, coupled with the choice to leave. How do you respond without sounding trite, or overly sentimental. I certainly don't know. Unfortunately it is hardest on those left behind who were close to Rob, and my heart goes out to them, particularly Diane. I was used to seeing the two together, remember seeing them quietly playing tunes together in the schoolhouse several Fiddle Tunes ago, while everyone was elsewhere watching the fireworks. Diane, you are in many of our thoughts. The two of you were very sweet together. Extremely sad - actually, overwhelmingly so, and many of us are thinking of you. Hang in there. Rob is the one who in advertently gave me the tune Swing Lady Home, at a little evening play over at Rosalie's, with Diane and another friend, several years ago - he brought it in as the last tune of the evening, on a cold winter's night. Every time I play that tune I think of that night. And my favorite tune recalls are those that I put together with people- Now that is a good and sweet memory-

July 9th, 2009 | Paul Tolo

As a fiddler, I always loved playing old-time music with Rob. His guitar playing and musicianship were both rock solid. I met Rob in Seattle in the late 90s at Greg and Jere Canote's old-time music class. We'd often play at gatherings such as Fiddle Tunes, the Folklife Festival, and Camp Wishy-Washy. We also jammed frequently at Betsy Brown's house with Jamie, Tom, Carmen and others, and those are some of my strongest memories of Rob. He was such a talented person, yet so soft-spoken it was easy to miss the depth of his knowledge and ability until you got to know him. Rob wouldn't talk about himself much - you had to draw him out if you wanted to know about him. It was only from the effusive and often reverent praise others heaped on his guitar craftsmanship that I initially learned he was a luthier. I was amazed when I first saw the workshop he built in his backyard - a work of art in its own right. It had radiant heat flooring that kept our group warm as we jammed on rainy, Seattle nights. It seemed there was always much to learn about Rob, even after you'd known him for awhile. If I had to describe Rob, I'd begin with deep. He had a depth of soul, a depth of character. He was a truly kind and truly generous person. Although he was quiet, his music spoke loud and clear and it was obvious to anyone that he was a brilliant guitar player. And a pretty good fiddle player too. I will miss Rob, his smile, his gentle presence, his music. Our community is diminished by his loss.

July 9th, 2009 | Kendall Flint

We miss Rob already. His friendship, his humor and wit, his art, his craft, his music, his smile, his warm and easy availability, his garden, his generosity, his hug, the smell of his shop, his focussed and individual attention, his gentle way with our daughter Miki..., it all made Seattle and this world a better place to be in. I wish we had more of him. We are ever your friends, Rob. -kendall, kate, miki, and charlie

July 9th, 2009 | Robin Wassong

We have lost a beautiful, sweet and talented man. The sadness is overwhelming. I met Rob a long time ago when he lived on Guemes Island. I tasted fresh crab and the best baklava ever (his grandmother's recipe) I think he is gone to soon.

July 9th, 2009 | Susan Girdis

We miss Rob with all our heart and pray that he is at peace. His beautiful instruments will forever commemorate his spirit on this earth. God bless you Robbie.

July 9th, 2009 | Ann Trail

I am yet another who met Rob in Greg and Jere's string band class. I did not know him well. We had a few conversations over the years, mostly at Fiddle Tunes. I last saw him when I took my dad, his girlfriend, and two of my children to a vaudeville show in a Ballard brewery on April 4. Rob was an usher. During intermission I went over to say hi. I don't remember what we talked about -- pleasantries, no doubt. Nothing significant. But what I do remember is I had his full attention. Rob always gave his full attention. He was not one to look around to see who else might be there when he was talking with you. I am so sorry to learn he was carrying around so much sadness. My condolences to his family and friends.

July 9th, 2009 | Chuck DeHart

I knew Rob when I studied with NSID around 1980. I remember the beautiful work and intensive care he put into a guitar he was building. What an inspiration. What a challenge it is to produce at his level. My condolences to all his family and friends.

July 9th, 2009 | Zak Girdis

It would be impossible to explain to anyone who did not know him what a kind, generous and soulful person my uncle Robbie was. His decision to leave us has been devastating to those of us who loved him, and almost impossible to believe or understand. The hardest part of it all is imagining him in a place where he felt he had no other choice, or no one to talk to. I would have given anything for a chance to change his mind. Rob was my Dad's kid brother, and I grew loving the heck out of him all my life, one of my favorite people ever. I learned a lot about integrity and grace from uncle Rob, and I guess having him on my mind so much these days has made me realize that I got so much more than I had realized from knowing him. I think he really had a bigger influence on me, and on the person I want to be than I understood until I took this time to think so hard about him. I have always been extremely proud of him, and even though I hate that he left us the way he did, I am still extremely proud of him. The last time I saw him, we played his beautiful guitars together at Gramp's house, talked and laughed, and when I left to drive home, we had our customary very long and very tight hug. And then we had another one. I really loved him, and I know a bunch of other people did too. Getting past the shock and grief over this is hard to do, but there is no doubt in my mind that the good and kind person that he was, his incredible talent, totally unshakable integrity in his craft, and his gentle, generous spirit have made the world a better place, both directly, and by his example in life. I could never properly explain how much I will miss him. To everyone sharing this page remembering him, Thank you for being his friend. Peace to you, Uncle Robbie. I love you. Zak Girdis

July 9th, 2009 | Mark Sullivan

I too met Rob in the Canote's class and jammed in his workshop. I loved his stories about going to Bohemian Grove with Ed Littlefield. I am sorry I will never own one of his guitars or hear more of his stories. We will miss you, Rob.

July 8th, 2009 | Kent Everett

Rob was a quiet and funny guy. Very insightful and a pleasure to be around. I remember hanging out with him at various shows dating back decades. He was one of my buddies from the early days. After arriving at a guitar show, it would always be a pleasure to see his confident comical smirk from across the room knowing that a funny meal was in our future. On top of all that he was a gifted craftsman. I think this last quality is one that really reflects a person's core. In Rob's case his core shone brightly through his life. I will miss seeing creative mind and skilled hands at work. But more than that, I will miss the person behind it. Kent Everett

July 8th, 2009 | Betsy Brown

I am one of the lucky ones who has one of Rob's guitars, one of his "basic" parlor guitars, a work of art, both in it's visual beauty but also it's tone. I treasure it and love showing it off to people who've never heard of Rob or heard such a small wonder make such a big sound. Like Carmen, I first met Rob in the Canotes' class, and "grew up" with them and others in the music. His flatpicking was wonderful and I enjoyed watching him pick up the fiddle. He was a dear and sweet man, with a depth I'll never really understand. We are far from Seattle and his friends now,and truly sad that we will never see Rob again. I only wish he could know how much he'll be missed. My heart goes out to his family and loved ones.

July 8th, 2009 | Catherine Alexander

Godspeed, Rob. Your voice remains. Thank you.

July 8th, 2009 | Martha Jackson

Rob's death was a real blow to me, and to many others. I am hardly prepared now to put my thoughts into words, although I knew Rob only a bit, over the past 12 years or so. Rob was always warm and friendly, even when he wasn't very outgoing. His fine, sensitive and inventive guitar playing, and in recent years, fiddling as well, was always very welcome. He hosted many oldtime jams at the great shop he built behind his home, and was a gracious host. The many fabulous guitars he leaves behind were works of combined art and science, known for their strength and sweetness of voice, and will sing for him for a long long time. His presence on this planet was a gift to us, and will be much missed.

July 8th, 2009 | Jenny Armstrong

I only knew Rob from seeing him at parties, mostly at Betsy and Jamie's house. It is a shame to lose such a talented person too early in his life. I have been touch too many times by people choosing to ending their lives. To those close to Rob, I understand your pain. May you find peace in the future and be comforted by your memories of him. Grief is a journey we never expect to take. Make your tear soup as long as you need to and know at some point the pain will ease for you.

July 8th, 2009 | Ellen Ziegler

My guitar strap broke at Fiddle Tunes, and my 1948 Martin 0018 hit the pavement and cracked. I had just gotten it, and all I could do was sink to the ground and cry. Rob came over and sat next to me, not saying anything, but got really close and was There. He knew what hurt right then. He was a deep man, full of feeling, and a consummate artist.

July 8th, 2009 | Charles Kuo

I was one of Rob's students in his weekly workshop which ran from 4:30 to closing time on Thursdays. I blocked out time in my schedule at work as 'Do not even think of scheduling a meeting here.' to make sure that I wouldn't miss a minute of it. Rob loved a good laugh and always wanted to know about what was happening in our lives. He told us stories about his customers, famous guitarists and passed on things he had learned from his decades of guitar building. Thanks, Rob. Your kindness will never be forgotten.

July 8th, 2009 | Carmen Ficarra

Rob was a big part of my early years playing old-time music in Seattle. We met through the Canotes, like a thousand others, and ended up in an ever-changing group of players swapping CDs and jamming at each other's houses whenever we could. Playing in Rob's workshop was an entirely different thing however, since you were surrounded by all those instruments in different stages of completion, beautiful pieces of wood waiting to be used, little cases of tuning machines and bridge pins. For a guitar player, even a lousy one such as myself, it was a dream laboratory in there, a place where time moved slowly but to great purpose. I suppose that could describe Rob too. He knew his capabilities, built on his skills, challenged himself and loved his work. I think that more than anything else, what he wanted was to make guitars that not only sounded great, but gave their owners the thrill of knowing they had something rare and alive in their hands. I've yet to hear someone mention his name without quickly adding that his guitars were works of art. I was always jealous when a friend would finally get their Girdis guitar (wait times were considerable if not legendary). But I always got my chance to play it. They felt good to hold, and after a couple of chords responded as though they'd been your own instrument for years. I hadn't seen Rob in years, except for a couple of quick hellos in passing, but even at those times he struck me as someone holding on to a secret and powerful knowledge. That's a bit flowery I guess, but I felt it every time I saw him. I know he was deep and reserved, and now I see there was darkness in him as well. It's difficult to accept that someone with such a gift reached a point in his life where the peace he needed, a comfort in his spirit, became impossible to attain. Those of us who knew him, or who play his instruments, can remember him as a man with true virtuosity and a caring soul.

July 8th, 2009 | Jason Verlinde

Truth be told, I only met Rob a handful of times around Seattle. Yet, each time, he was a generous soul, always offering a ride to the next meeting of the Seattle Luthiers Group, always treating me like a good friend, always smiling. I was able to visit his workshop once and I was truly inspired both by what he built with the workshop itself, and what he was building inside (the guitars). You will be missed, Rob.

July 8th, 2009 | anthony huvard

I love you my brother, and I will miss you terribly... the beauty of your work was surpassed only by the richness of your soul and spirit. and none of us will ever forget you. rest well my friend.

July 8th, 2009 | Charlie Hartness

I washed dishes with Rob at Fort Flagler, camped beside him at Centralia and marveled at the beauty of his new guitar babies when he'd he pull one of his recent creations out to play. Rob was a gentle soul and I am sad he has gone.

July 8th, 2009 | Stephen Godbe

I had the honor to study with Rob. He was generous with sharing the tips and tricks (if you want to call them tricks) of the craft of lutherie, and he was relentless in making sure no corners were cut or no task went unfinished. Keep your planes sharp!

July 8th, 2009 | Joe Noone

Rob when next I meet you at your heart so open and so tender I'll tell you Beauty lost a friend when you decided to go under. I'll tell you also I did too who loved you as a brother as gentle as spring wind were you a heartbeat like no other

July 8th, 2009 | Tom Collicott

I feel very privileged to having had the chance to photograph (and hear) the guitars Rob has made over the last 9 years or so, also to have spent many hours with Rob playing old-time music. Rob had a gentle and kind soul and had unlimited generosity with his time, knowledge and friendship. His guitars were simple and elegant with perfect craftsmanship and materials and sounded and played like no others. The OM he made for me is one of my prized possessions but I’d trade it in a second to have him back. I’m really going to miss him.