Robert "Bob" Merrill Squier, Sr.

Robert Merrill Squier, Sr., 90, of Noblesville, passed away on Dec. 14. As comfortable being the life of the party as he was spending hours on his own enjoying one of his myriad hobbies, he absolutely treasured his independence – a fact of which he reminded his children on a weekly basis – and was fortunate to have maintained that independence to the end.

Bob was born in Philadelphia on St. Patrick’s Day, 1930, and grew up in the nearby borough of Narberth, PA (thus seeding his status as a lifelong Phillies and Eagles fan). After serving his country in the Army as a staff sergeant, 3rd Infantry Division, he attended Villanova University. Soon thereafter, he joined Matthey Bishop, the company for whom he’d work as a salesman and then regional manager in the precious metals industry for nearly 40 years.

Based in Chicago, L.A., and finally Carmel, Indiana, Bob traveled frequently for his job but never returned home to his children empty-handed. From T-shirts celebrating obscure tourist attractions in random Midwest cities to the newest Nancy Drew book to a few extra stormtroopers or Rebel soldiers (can one ever have enough?), the kids’ post-trip swag haul was unfailingly impressive. Despite the hectic travel schedule, he rarely rested during his time off. His weekends were packed with a dizzying array of school theatrical productions and time spent coaching his daughter’s softball team and both sons’ baseball and basketball teams.

Bob was also an extraordinarily talented craftsman. His lifelong passion for model building – and his often frustrated quest for perfection therein – began as a child. He’d sit for hours building balsa wood planes on the top floor of his house, and when he was unhappy with a particular creation, would light it on fire and watch it crash-land on the driveway below.

The flaming projectiles, thankfully, did not continue into Bob’s adult life, but the quest for perfection did and he established himself as a gifted model railroader. He built hundreds of HO and N scale trains along with the tracks, bridges, towns and landscapes over and through which they traveled. His attention to detail turned his basement into an enchanting, miniature world of its own where more than a few children – and adults – could easily get lost.

Of course, Bob’s skills were not limited to model railroading. He also designed and constructed a mini-pub in his basement, crafted bespoke furniture to house the latest stereo technology, created stunning marquetry pictures, and built exquisitely detailed model planes.

Perhaps not surprisingly, Bob was also fascinated by LEGOs. Although he enjoyed completing the odd LEGO kit now and then, his best work was done between midnight and 6 a.m. every Christmas in the 1970s: his kids would awake to an epic construction “by Santa” – who’d obviously used magic to incorporate every last brick of their enormous collection into a spectacular, freeform LEGO castle.

Bob’s love of movies and music was contagious. As recently as the day before he died, he was texting his children with film recommendations. And while he always appreciated a good war movie or miniseries – Band of Brothers comes to mind as a favorite – he was equally inclined to immerse himself in the post-Edwardian aristocracy of Downton Abbey.

Bob played a bit of harmonica, loved belting out a good Christmas carol (particularly in Latin), and adored Big Band music, western swing, Bing Crosby, the Sherman Brothers, Gordon Lightfoot, Glen Campbell, and Neil Diamond. To this day, his kids cannot hear Mississippi Mud, Ragtime Cowboy Joe, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald or Soolaimon without thinking of their dad.

Bob is survived by his three children, Moira Squier, Robert (Christine) Squier, Jr., and Seán Squier; his four granddaughters, Rachael Squier, Rebecca Squier, Colleen Squier and Fianna Roberts-Squier; and his brother, John Richard Squier.

A celebration of his life will be held as soon as it is safe to hug each other, laugh and sing without masks, and raucously toast Bob with both abandon and a dry gin martini. We might even pretend to pull coins out from behind each other’s ears and try in vain to charm the youngest among us with handkerchief mice in his honor.

In lieu of flowers, please consider making a donation to the Wounded Warrior Project or the American Heart Association. Bob would like that.