My dear friend Bobby Guthro died in the hospital Thursday after some months of illness. He inspired everyone he met with his sunny disposition, goofy sense of humor, and fortitude. He faced a lot of challenges but also got a lot done—of the people I’ve known, one of those who fulfilled his potential most fully. He was a Mustard Seed volunteer for 40 years—I volunteered almost 3,000 hours with him, only a drop in the bucket of his own contribution to the Seed and the city.
Here are some excerpted thoughts from Michael Boover, Bobby’s friend since the 1970s:
Our much beloved Bobby Guthro died at UMass Memorial University Hospital at 11 PM on September 7, 2023. He was 65.
He had been struggling with bladder and breathing issues for a time, but only very seriously for a short period. He had lost a lot of weight and his decline, once noticed, was rapid. He was reluctant to go to the hospital at all, but Koz warned him if he did not go, he would be seeing his deceased older brother George sooner rather than later!
His time in the hospital was relatively short. But he was very ill at the end. It was not his style to accept any confinement. He was a free spirit who loved his independence, loved visiting his friends throughout the city, and loved volunteering with and for the Mustard Seed community.
Bobby came from a large family with significant Native American roots. He was proud of his indigenous heritage and he loved to tell stories (not always believable ones, but always told with pleasure). The Guthros came to the Mustard Seed in the mid-1970s en masse, as a large family, the matriarch leading the rest to the table.
Bobby was one of three brothers. His big brother George was the most engaged at the Seed among the siblings in the early days. He was a presence at the house and he helped with the farming labors at Father Eddie Steriti’s hermitage garden at Saint Joseph’s Abbey in Spencer, helping to grow, harvest, and transport fresh produce to Worcester’s poor.
George died in 2015 at age 62. His wife, Regina, remains an important presence at the Seed. When George died, Bobby, who had played second fiddle to his more outgoing brother, picked up the torch at 93 Piedmont for the Guthros. Bobby brought the same spirit of cooperative engagement to the work that Georgie did, though he decided to skip the farming! He was an urbanite who loved his city, walked all over its hills and valleys, was a regular at many diners, and attended all the downtown festivals that he could. Worcester belonged to Bobby!
Bobby enjoyed a special connection with Donna Domiziano, and was at her right hand for many years.
Donna noted that Bobby died on the feast day of Saint Teresa of Calcutta, whose motto and teaching was “Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.” This is precisely what Bobby did with his life. He loved his work at the Seed, doing dishes or mopping the floor at night. During Covid, when the Seed only served outdoors but kept the bathrooms open, his was the job of sanitizing things many times per hour. He took his chores quite seriously, did them with joy, and somehow didn’t complain.
Bobby could be shy, but was very warm with the people he knew. He treated the elderly with care. He would choose volunteers he liked to work with and took them under his wing to form a sort of team.
Bobby took great pleasure in his status as an old-timer. Like Joe Devoe before him, he was known and loved by many despite and even because of a sometimes gruff, irascible exterior that poorly masked his loving heart committed to the common good.
Bobby’s love language was making a racket. He would think nothing of tossing dirty pots into the sink with a loud bang, stunning people with its volume. Unlike Donna, Koz, or Paula, I never took on the job of managing Bobby. I would try to cut the tension by joking, “Bobby, you are going to wake up the baby.” Sometimes it would work, and sometimes he would say “Get out of my way” and even push me. I’d joke again, “Who’s in the way, Bobby? Me or you?” and he’d invariably soften and sink into a welcome smile of recognition.
Yet Bobby listened to the voice of authority instinctively when he knew he should, whether Donna, Koz, Paula, Theresa, Annie, or many others over the years. He liked those who were clear-eyed and attentive to detail and himself.
The thing about Bobby is that he loved the Mustard Seed and the Mustard Seed loved him. He endeared himself to all the church and other folk who came to the house. He had an unforgettable appearance and demeanor and if you met him once, he was hard to forget.
Bobby was not chapel-going as many of our faith-based volunteers are. But there was no one more devoted to the daily round of veritable faithfulness (work on behalf of love and spirit) than Bobby! Bobby had his own key to the Seed, and spent quiet time there during the day. He would putter around, setting up dinner trays, setting out donuts on the counter, and making his legendary coffee. In the final years of his life he found an apartment at the corner of Austin and Merrick, only two doors down from the Seed.
At the end of his life, when Bobby was hospitalized, he was supported by his beloved nephew Michael, who coordinated his end of life care alongside friends from the Mustard Seed, Bobby’s devoted social worker, and medical personnel. Family and friends visited, sometimes having to line up in the waiting room of the ICU and wait their turn. Annie made a poster for his hospital room with photos of many Seed people on it, and it delighted him. Donna got to pray with him near the end, the meeting of two long loves.
Bobby will join the cloud of witnesses memorialized on the wall of the back stairwell of the Mustard Seed. The faces on that wall shine brightly to light the way ahead. Bobby, dear loyal Bobby, we pray you will keep your vigil still. Intercede for your coworkers here in the kitchen, dining room, and yard, your home. We are your tribe and you so clearly belonged to us. Deo Gratias! And thank you, dear Bobby, for we also belonged to you. We tip our hats to you, and we remain honored and inspired by your witness in this blessed Mustard Seed community. “We’ll meet again at the Festival of Friends.”