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1903 Market St.
Camp Hill, PA 17011
Phone: 717-737-9961
Fax: 717-737-4618
Robert Holler

Robert M. Holler

Thursday, June 7th, 1928 - Saturday, November 30th, 2019
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Robert M. Holler, the son of the late J.C. Lester and Marion Holler was a loving, generous, hard working, handsome and fun loving man. He went above and beyond, not only as a father, grandfather, brother, son, uncle and friend, but as a human being. He felt that being kind, decent, trust-worthy, helpful and good to others should apply to everyone that he met. Very seldom, did he turn away the opportunity to make a situation better for whomever he could, if he could find the way; Especially, if it were for a plate of hot food accompanied by a bowl of ice cream!

Everyone would always recognize him happily rambling up the road in his cherry picker truck, blaring Christian music, toting Bailiff- his side-kick German Shepherd dog, that shared in all of his daily ventures. Traveling all over the region as “Bob the Sign Man”. He was not a shy man when it came to a conversation. He had the gift of gab better than anyone and a pocket full of charm to go with it. Keeping clients, many of whom became life-long friends, strangers and loved ones, they were all enchanted for hours with adventures, historical accounts and of course, LOTS of advice.

He was a lyrical poet in his everyday speech, rhyming his way through ordering breakfast and having a nickname for almost everyone... writing love notes to the love of his life “Baby Bear”, talking to “Nadine, Nadine, my little queen”, his dear friend Joe “Joesy” or his working aside his very loved son, “Mort.” He gave each of our mundane experiences with him, a dash of sugar and a hint of sparkle with his ‘Bob Hollerisms‘: “Holy cats!”, “Scream, don’t holler!”, “You little pea picker, you!!”, “Man alive!”, and for me, “I love you, little girl.” ... that will never fall upon a pair of ears the same way, if ever again.

Throughout his life, his passion and purpose was that of Gods’ word. He lived his life as a true Christian and dedicated his intentions praising Gods’ name. The formidable years of his faith began at Mount Olivet Campmeeting where he dedicated his lifetime of summers in fellowship and service. Nowhere, did his heart and soul rest more than there. One can’t argue who or what belongs there more, Robert Holler or the breeze that the trees push down the side of the mountain. They equally whisper a blessing from God to Mount Olivet and the community there.
Bob is presently in Heaven rejoicing and laughing along with his beloved wife, Betty Lou Holler, his son, Robert R.S. Holler, granddaughter, Olivia B. Gerardino, his brother, Kermit Holler, his sister, Marian Sariano, and his brother Charles Holler.

He has left behind his remaining sister, Barbara Snell, his daughter, Ginger Eanes Rupert (Scott Shearer), granddaughter, Amy Gerardino Rhoads Bogle (Sean Bogle), four great-grandchildren, Carson Bogle, Ethan Rhoads, Anna Beatrice Rhoads-Brandt (Benjamin Brandt) and Harrison Rhoads (Sarah Maldonado-Rhoads), two great-great grandchildren Cora Rhoads and Edison Brandt and nieces, nephews, cousins, friends and lives that he has, even momentarily touched in many countless and special ways, to have the ability to smile upon the memories that he lovingly left for us to cherish.

Services will be held at Rolling Green Cemetery, 11:00 A.M. on Saturday December 7, 2019, in the Chapel of Peace, located on the grounds of the Cemetery, 1811 Carlisle Rd., Camp Hill, with Rev. Gavin Whitcomb officiating.
With a luncheon following the services to be held at Spring Gate Vineyards, 5790 Devonshire Rd, Harrisburg, PA 17112

Bob’s family would prefer not to receive flowers, and ask you to kindly consider a memorial contribution in lieu of flowers, to Mt. Olivet Campground, 300 Campground Rd., Dillsburg, PA 17019.
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Service Details

  • Chapel Service

    Saturday, December 7th, 2019 | 11:00am
    Saturday, December 7th, 2019 11:00am
    Chapel of Peace-Rolling Green Cemetery
    1811 Carlisle Rd.
    Camp Hill, PA 17011
    Get Directions: View Map | Text | Email
    Rev. Gavin Whitcomb
  • Interment

    Saturday, December 7th, 2019 | 11:00am
    Saturday, December 7th, 2019 11:00am
    Rolling Green Cemetery
    1811 Carlisle Rd.
    CAMP HILL, PA 17011
    Get Directions: View Map | Text | Email


Donations are being accepted for: Mt. Olivet Campground.


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Marian L Harrison

Posted at 12:38pm
We will be

John L. Bachman, Jr.

Posted at 11:46am
My sincere condolences to you Ginger and everyone in the Holler family. Your father Bob was a wonderful man and I will
always remember the good ole days that I shared with him and the Holler family.

May GOD grant you peace and comfort.


John L. Bachman, Jr.


Posted at 08:08am
Uncle Bob will be deeply missed by me. Although a kid in college is never alone, I shall always remember my uncle who took the time out of a business trip to stop and visit me. It meant a lot to share a meal with him, trade anecdotes, and share our lives. A memory I will never forget. His positive attitude, his encouraging words, and his smile shall always live in my heart.


Posted at 01:58pm
Here is a story I wrote about my father, under the guise of Ruby:
The Adventurer
Ruby thought she was very special when she awakened from her light slumber, because the Tooth Fairy exchanged a tooth for a silver dollar under her pillow. Her best friends usually got a quarter or a fifty-cent piece. Later, when she brought “A” s home on her report card, her Father would add silver dollars to her collection.
As a young gentleman protecting her mother’s honor, Ruby’s father got into a fight at an amusement park, which is how he had all his teeth knocked out. Being the fourth child during the Great Depression, he learned the value of a tooth and a dollar, silver or not, the hard way. Ruby’s Tooth Fairy was a generous soul.
Ruby lived in a new subdivision about twenty minutes up the river from Harrisburg. In the fifties, the mothers, had card clubs, baked cookies and guided the children through life. The fathers were diversified. Mr. Richards was a principal at the high school, Mr. Dietrich managed the Five and Dime store, Mr. Barrett was an engineer, Mr. Jones was a teacher, Mr. Brown was a builder, and Mr. Gant was a barber, who later had a sex change and became a nurse. Ruby’s father was an Adventurer.
He traveled every day from store to store throughout three counties to deliver and strategically arrange fresh Holsum bread on the shelves of the supermarkets. He navigated his bread truck across three counties, with his favorite music blasting. He was a drop-dead handsome man. Although he talked the ear off some people, children, dogs and all women loved him.
As an adventurer, he had fun every day. Ruby’s home was on the top of Sunshine Hill, overlooking the Susquehanna River. It was more of a lopsided, horseshoe, shaped street with a gradual but steep incline on one side, and insurmountable on a snowy day, on the other side. Before climate change, the hills were often covered with snow. Ruby and her besties were “Snow Queens” all winter. Sledding down the steep hill, about six blocks long, was their main attraction. They only went back inside to eat, do homework, or melt their nearly frostbitten fingers and toes.
The three-minute sensation going down was big fun, but the twelve-minute walk back up, made you tired and cold. There was instant recovery when you finally reached the top, you wanted one more thrill, sliding down the big hill.
Often, when it wasn’t navigable by car, Ruby’s father would leave his car at the bottom of the hill, and sled down to it when he went to work in the morning. Sleigh riders had the right-away. Ruby would bring the sled back home on her first trip down. Ruby realized much later in life that white collar workers couldn’t go to work with such a sporty attitude, which is why none of the other fathers ever went sledding to get their car, or for fun.
Driving down the Carlisle pike, her father pointed at a huge car dealership and laughed out loud. “That is where the Polo Field used to be.” He interjected. “I was about six years old when I was wondering around the barn at a polo match here. A man asked if I wanted to ride one of the horses. I nodded my head and he plopped me on the back of the horse. Trigger took off like a bolt of lightning.
“My eyes were as big as saucers. I was scared to death, screaming help me at the top of my lungs as the horse darted across this road and onto the polo field. The crowd was cheering for me. Finally, I remembered to yell “whoa.” The wild horse stopped, and I tumbled topsy-turvy onto the ground in front of Trigger. When the crowd of worried adults asked if I were ok, I nodded yes, but I was scared out of my mind” the Adventurer recanted.
Ruby’s father had rose-colored glasses when he looked at life and all it had to offer. He was always on the side of the underdog, under privileged and the forgotten. Ruby had an “Uncle Fred” that came and stayed at their house on weekends. His family owned a small corner grocery store on her father’s bread route. Their grown son Fred was mentally handicapped, but very functional. He worked in a factory every day.
Uncle Fred loved to visit her family because they were kind and treated him with respect. He called Ruby’s Mom “Mother.” Vacuuming, washing windows, and dusting were small paybacks for his vacation home. A heart issue caused him to die suddenly when he was just 40 years old.
Spongey was an older gentleman who befriended Ruby, when she spent downtime at the restaurant. He gave her a Funk and Wagnalls four-inch, hard cover, dictionary and an emerald ring. When her brother was born, he was named Stats, after the lonely, traveling sponge salesman, who never had a son. There was a pony promised, but he died before the bequeath was written. He was just another “stray human” that her father friended without any expected quid pro quo.
When Ruby brought two Tibetan monks for Thanksgiving dinner, her mother was hungry and thought they prayed too long before dinner. Guess who is coming to dinner at Ruby’s house was a common occurrence, long before the movie. Over the years, Ruby her brother and her daughter, Katie adopted various forgotten and lonely humans to nudge them along their paths of life.
“Oh… My… God, you didn’t really do that did you?” Ruby gasped. “Did you tell Grandma where you were going?” she quizzed him. “No, she was busy,” her father answered sheepishly. “I can’t believe you were so crazy!” Ruby exclaimed.
“Well I wanted to go see my friend in Kutztown, so I rode my bike nearly 80 miles to see him.” He smiled with satisfaction. “Did you come back home that night?” Ruby asked with a concerned tone of voice. “No, they made Dutch Stew for dinner and I stayed overnight.” Again, Ruby asked, “Did you call Grandma? How old were you?” She interrogated. “You must have been exhausted” Ruby uttered.
He chuckled and told her, “It was easy, I hitched a ride on a truck.” “What?” Ruby shrieked. “I just grabbed onto the reflector on the truck with my left hand, steered with my right hand and got towed at 55 miles an hour. I waved at the cars passing the truck. I don’t think the driver ever knew I was getting a free ride on his rear end” he explained. “Oh, I’m so glad I never had boys” Ruby sighed.
“Actually, it was Dad who gave me the idea. He hitched a ride the whole way to Pittsburgh on his bike.” Her father added matter of factually. Ruby was shocked and asked if he went by motorcycle, or bicycle. “It was bicycle, there were lots of people doing it, which inspired the PA railroad to create a 335-mile rail trail from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia.” The 91-year-old informed Ruby. It seems like the adventure gene was in the family DNA.
The Adventurer was a free spirit. He passed a restaurant for sale and decided to have a go at that business. He hired a cook named Mommy Myers, bought a jukebox, and served breakfast, lunch, dinner and music to the truck drivers and locals. Ruby learned to spell “Restaurant Proprietor” when someone asked her father’s occupation. Her favorite song on the jukebox was “Itsy-Bitsy, Teeny-Weeny, Yellow, Polka Dot Bikini.”
When they put the new Interstate highway around the small town, they bypassed the restaurant making it inconvenient for truckers to get a bite there. They lost everything and had to start over in a small apartment that her grandfather owned.
Ruby’s happy life on Sunshine Hill was just a memory at the new school where the parents were doctors, lawyers and proprietors of local business. They turned up their noses at underprivileged families who rented apartments. Elitists was the best way to describe the snobby class of 69. Even though her great grandmother owned real estate and a buggy turned into an auto dealership in Camp Hill, and her grandfather was Postmaster and later the Burgess, Ruby never fit in.
In 1967, Montreal hosted the World’s Fair. It was the perfect opportunity to learn what was the newest science, art and technology in the world. Ruby and her father took their red Rambler station wagon across the border to quell their curious minds. The main attraction was the geodesic dome, designed by Buckminster Fuller. Ruby remembers that she could drive on open highways on their return to Harrisburg.
‘Go West young man’ was calling the wanna-be traveling man. He rented a Scottie trailer, and convinced his mother, sister and her two girls to come along. Even Uncle Fred made the trek to Pike’s Peak. They had two cars full of tourists visiting national landmarks, and unsuspecting, long-lost relatives in the summer of 1963. They wouldn’t forget the cattle in the middle of the road in Montana, the snow in September, the laughter and splendor of it all. It was a memory to treasure.
In 1981, her father shook all the piggy banks, cashed stock and spent three weeks in Greece with good friends from his favorite restaurant. It was his only trip abroad. Ruby wishes she could take him along on her travels. Her father was proud that she could do everything he dreamed of and travel around the world.
Her maternal grandmother, and her parents had ‘boarders’ for thirty years. Jerry grew to be almost another son who lived at Ruby’s home five days a week, returning to his home an hour and a half away on weekends. He was a bachelor without other obligations. He trusted that an investment in a franchise for portable signs with her father and his brother-in-law would be worthwhile.
Although it was never a booming success, it was a decent living. Riding in a ‘cherry picker’ truck, with a protective German Shepard, her father became famous as ‘Bob the Sign Man’. Bailiff, the dog, was known as a mean dog that would bite you. Ruby never went within 25 feet of him, even when he was on a chain.
Heavy storms that caused damage always boosted business. Her brother was fearless and didn’t mind the heights the basket lifted him to. Together they sold and mounted new signs, changed marquees, and repaired broken signs. They both had stories of near tragedies due to electrical issues.
Sending bills and collecting was not something the ‘sign man’ liked to do. Ruby’s mother is still being considered for sainthood. The stress of ups and downs in their income and dangers of the business wore on her after the first few years.
Her mother didn’t like change. Her idea of vacation was to go someplace cooler in the summer. Over the years, a camper and then a cottage in the mountains with familiar friends, peace and quiet, made her happy. The cottage had a big screened in porch with a swing to relax, cool off, catch up on news of their neighbors, and watch chipmunks’ race for peanuts.
There was an artesian well, seventy-five cottages, two outdoor toilet facilities with showers and a tabernacle to worship in. Alcohol and running water were no-nos. Everyone had to go to the well for jugs of water and to church when they scheduled someone to preach. Ruby spent many summers there but has no interest in mingling with the Religious Right. They were mostly nice, and she knew them well. She saw their hypocrisy and judged them wrong.
Ruby’s mother was a center of influence. Every summer day friends gathered around her to play cards or eat. Her father never played cards and never watched sports. At the age of 76, he was too tired to protest, and they bribed him with snacks. He was never good at any of the card games, but eventually gained enthusiasm for sports.
The plan was to live at the cottage in the summer, and spend the winter in Fort Myers, Florida where they bought a beautiful mobile home with Ruby’s Aunt Doris. They had ducks, when the alligators didn’t eat them, grapefruit trees, swimming pool, shuffleboard, and a Recreation Center with activities every day. After 10 years the ground rent climbed out of their budget and they moved back to Pennsylvania.
Despite their differences, over time they became a happy couple and spent hours watching birds and attempting to outsmart the squirrels by complicating their trail to the peanut butter and seeds they wanted.
Her father affectionately called Ruby’s mother his ‘Little Bear’. With an eye for art, Ruby’s father would draw pictures on post it notes to convey his tenderness to her. “I came home, and my Little Bear wasn’t here.” They included a picture of a Papa Bear with tears in his eyes.
Ruby’s mother went to the other side in 2011. Robby, who never married, and Dad shared grief and household chores together for a few years. One day the postman hailed Robby down and showed him an astounding amount of mail from sweepstakes everywhere.
Robby immediately called Ruby. “Sis, we have a problem.” Over the next few years, everybody that knew Bob, even police made unsuccessful attempts to talk sense into him. Robby hid the mail, and his phone to no avail.
All the shysters had to do was talk about the Bible to get Bob to find creative ways to send money to win the big prize. Eventually, it ended when he went into the nursing home, but the dream of winning the sweepstakes never died.
By the time Robby crossed over in 2015, their father was frail, lonely and needed more attention. He was living close to Ruby in a long-term care home that meets his needs for medical, social, and tender care. At 91 years old, he had a stroke which left him paralyzed and unable to swallow. His granddaughter moved him to her home full of babies, cats, dogs, and friends where he died, surrounded by love.
In another era his wealthy parents would have had family trips abroad, summer camps, sent him to college, and/or funded his business. But the Great Depression shaped expectations and frugal budgets, even though there was enough money for the family to have better outcomes.
Most of us would like a do-over in life, like money for college without loans, a trust fund for travel, better health, children that didn’t fight, or even better parents. But do those people really have it all? Ruby thought of all the feuding that money brought to the “La di Dah” people.
If you saw a handsome man with beautiful blue eyes, whistling a happy tune, wearing a t-shirt with holes cut out in the shape of hearts for “air conditioning,” you could be sure it was Ruby’s father. Despite his of lack of money, the Adventurer found ways to create a zest for life and be happy wherever he went. He had no wrinkles, a lot of hair, and at 91, the women still loved his quick wit and gentle nature.
Ruby remembers curling up on his lap on Sundays for him to read the funny papers to her. Dagwood Bumstead was her favorite. Biting into a six-inch sandwich was a success that her father would try to copy. He was famous for his huge appetite, and great sense of humor. Even after a mild stroke, the nurses and doctors that took care of him repeated his humorous antics.
Ruby analyzed the apple that fell from the tree and realized that in this life, we must keep humor as a resource to balance the ups and downs of life. She loves her father who taught her to be an adventurer exploring the world with gusto, lots of love and smiles. Ruby wouldn’t have traded her Father or her life with anyone for any reason.
Ginger Eanes

Marian L Harrison Posted at 12:38pm

Beautiful memories Cousin. I remember him always smiling or laughing and quite a tease. He told me he named my sister Jeanne after a little girlfriend at school and always called me by my full name Marian Louise. I also remember that Holler trait of his of a live for ice cream!

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