Bob Brasfield passed away unexpectedly a couple of weeks ago. He ran Brasfield’s Audio Repair for 45 years from a shop on Clay Street.
Nestled in between a limousine that hasn’t moved in years and behind a wooden door with a trick handle, his 120-square-foot repair room was packed to the hilt with electronic equipment dating back to the 1960s. It was always a treat to take someone there for the first time and introduce them to Bob and the room. He was always kind and professional to the newcomer and, if he could, he would tell them a repair price that was also way lower than expected. That pricing kept him busy and his kind approach didn’t hurt a bit.
A friend took me to Bob’s shop about 15 years ago when I needed an older piece of electronics repaired. He immediately recognized it and began to skillfully take it apart in front of me. He explained how it worked and that the technology was two generations out of date. It was about to be three generations out of date. “Are you sure you want to spend your money on repairing this?” He talked me out of giving him money and I learned a lot about my old piece of equipment. Looking around his shop, every square inch was covered in some sort of electronic including the floor by the door.
As we walked out of his shop there were countless flat screen TVs sitting in the lobby. People had dropped them off and never came back to claim them or they were waiting on a part or they were being used for parts. It seems like some of those TVs were still sitting there the last time I dropped by.
After that initial meeting, he frequented our place of business and when we could we always talked a bit about music, usually, we talked about music from the 60s and 70s. He never once had a bad word to say to me about any musician or music, but he loved some music more than other types.
The last time we dropped in he was wearing a Colorado shirt and we joked about moving to Colorado for every single wrong reason. He joked a lot and if he wasn’t too busy a back-and-forth of Dad Jokes were had. Bob was always wholesome and humble when we spoke. He was also quick-witted and kind. It’s rare to find all those qualities these days. He loved his family and would mention them every time he could work them into the conversation, always beaming with pride about this or that. He loved his music, he loved Bama (nobody’s perfect) and he loved his freedom. His lifestyle allowed him to work when he chose, which was most of the time. But every now and then he took a short workweek or he would disappear for a week or so for some vacation or trip or new experience.
Bob Brasfield never lost that spirit of wanting new adventures and making those he loved happy. I am still in shock that he is gone and can’t believe how many times I’ve teared up writing this. I’ll miss you, Buddy. We’ll meet up again in that great Colorado in the sky.