Robert Krewatch

Robert E. Krewatch passed peacefully on July 28 at his Hermitage apartment in Richmond, Virginia.
He was 93.

Bob is survived by his two children, Alison Bass of Richmond and Mark Krewatch of Chicago, and their spouses, Mark Bass and Tamara McDonough; his grandchildren, Anna, Mo, and Julia Bass, and Dallan and Maeve Krewatch; his sister Diane Carmean; and numerous nieces, nephews, grandnieces and grandnephews, and friends. His passing was preceded by those of his sisters Katherine Quillen and Thelma Hastings, and of his wife Aileen.

Bob was a meticulous craftsman and ingenious problem-solver. He could peel an apple in a single
spiraling length of skin, he would take hours to perfectly core and cube a pineapple, and when he
changed the oil in his cars, he heated the new quarts on the oven first, so they would flow easily and
he wouldn’t lose a drop. Bob didn’t need to go to a gym to build his muscle; he did his heavy lifting
around the house, raking and shredding leaves, hauling and spreading mulch, hacking out tree
stumps, clearing gutters, or rotating tires. There was always more to do. In his Hockessin subdivision
of Gateway Farms, during snowstorms he shoveled a whole lane from his driveway to the cul de sac
at the bottom of the hill, so his neighbors there could get the traction to make it out to their jobs.
Bob learned his work ethic on his family’s farm in Delmar, Delaware, where he drove tractors and
combines daily after school, long before he could legally drive a car. The family moved to Seaford
for his senior year of high school, and he graduated from Seaford High in 1950. He earned a
bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering from the University of Delaware in 1955, after which he
served two years with the Army in White Sands, New Mexico. In his downtime he took
correspondence courses in auto mechanics, and during leaves he traveled the West, and for the rest
of his life he could run a finger over every highway he drove. Following his military service and a
stint with the local power company, Bob returned to U of D to earn a master’s in electrical
engineering in 1965, setting him up for a career designing turbines for Hercules Inc.
That same year, he met and married fellow Blue Hen, Aileen Ritchie, and he spent his life committed
to family. He was married to Aileen for 55 years when she passed. He invested long hours in
projects for his children, supporting their educational and entrepreneurial endeavors. He passed
onto them his love of reading along with treasured copies of boyhood books, including
Paddle-to-the-Sea and Robin Hood. He also loved playing them songs on his harmonica, their
favorite being “You Are my Sunshine.”
Bob loved dogs, crosswords, coconut ice cream, NASCAR, and breakfast at Perkins. Cars were his
delight. He spent years rehabbing a favorite aunt’s ’52 Ford Customline, and the Hershey antique car
show was an annual pilgrimage. Over decades of treasure hunting at flea markets, he collected
hundreds of vintage die-cast cars and tractors. He knew the story each one represented – the
Plymouth sedan in which his uncles drove him to Wyoming when he was 13; the Model A coupe
Aileen learned to drive in; every car ever owned by a friend or relative; and every car he ever drove
himself – or wished he had. He displayed them in a well-Windexed glass case, first in his Hockessin
home, then his retirement cottage of Jenners Pond in Pennsylvania, and finally his Hermitage
Richmond apartment.
Bob spent most of his adult life in the Wilmington area, with shorter stays in Clifton Forge, Virginia,
and St. Simon’s Island, Georgia. He might never have been happier than during his four years at the
Hermitage, where he made great friends and could never say enough about the kindness and
excellence of both the staff there and the visiting hospice caretakers whom he befriended in his last
two years. He especially loved sharing his grand-dachshund, Archie, with the community there.
After all of his journeys, his heart remained in Sussex County, Delaware, and he always proudly
identified as a country boy rather than a city slicker.
In lieu of flowers, you can honor Bob’s memory by spending time with family, including those
friends who have become family. Maybe take them out for breakfast or ice cream. And enjoy the
drive