Peterborough, NH – My husband, Robert Koerber, of the Kernel Bakery, died of interstitial lung disease at Pheasantwood in Peterborough on December 9, 2025. It was expected, and a shock all at once.
Robert was born in Sharon, Pennsylvania, the son of Harry and Elsie.
Robert graduated from Sharon High School and, because he did not want to work in a steel mill, began working at a local bakery. Neither he nor anyone else could have known the impact of that decision.
Robert traveled to Virginia and worked for a German baker. It was also there that he discovered Anthroposophy. His commitment to baking sent him to an apprenticeship in Germany and his commitment to Anthroposophy sent him to Rudolf Steiner’s Emerson College in Forest Row, U.K.
In 1974, Robert, and his then wife Janet, opened the “Cyrnel Bakery”–still in operation–in Forest Row. There, Robert perfected his craft, developed lifelong friends in the Anthroposophical Society, and welcomed his son, Jason.
When Robert and his family were ready to return to the U.S., they came to Peterborough. Robert was drawn by Pine Hill Waldorf School and the promise of the nascent tech industry led by Byte Magazine.
The Monadnock region did not become Silicon Valley. But the Kernel Bakery prevailed.
The bakery became a hub for Peterborough and surrounding towns. Generations of children knew the joy of a sprinkle cookie or a chocolate dipped gnome at the holidays. Untold numbers had his bread at Harlow’s and Roy’s or came for a baguette on their way home from work. Holiday pies had cars parked on the shoulders of 202. “The Killer” donuts and eclairs made Saturday worth the wait.
The regular crowd, Walter Pratt, Eddie MacKenzie, and Joe Clark, to name a few, gathered daily. There was nothing like walking through the door of the shop on a cold winter day and being hit by the smell of bread and cinnamon and coffee and friendship. If you came to the bakery twice, Robert knew your order for the rest of his life.
The bakery felt like home, because it was Robert’s home. His sons Christopher and Jonathan were born feet away in the house while Robert was working.
Because of that, it was difficult to separate the man from the business. People were often surprised when Robert did not enthusiastically agree that baking was his “passion.” It was his job, and he was better than most. But he was so much more than the white jacket and the flour encrusted Birkenstocks.
Robert loved sailing and could pilot a boat through the mouth of the Merrimack and into the ocean. He painted with watercolors. Robert loved music, and at one time played the trombone, but he hated whistling. Even though Robert was born in Pennsylvania, he was a true Yankee. Whatever was broken could be repaired. One of the first places I went with him was to the appliance graveyard at the Peterborough dump to get a part to fix his refrigerator.
Robert enjoyed taking his grandsons, John and Eli, out for lunch on their birthdays. He looked forward to visits from his granddaughter CeCe. He looked forward to his Wednesday phone calls with his goddaughter Nicola and his weekly calls with his sister Gayle. He passed his baking skills and love of sailing down to his sons. He was excited to see old Emerson friends when they came to visit. Robert loved just sitting and talking to whomever he was with, whether it was his oldest friend or a friend he met 30 seconds ago on the MBTA Red Line. He could talk about politics or baseball, economics or what type of yeast you should use. His voice was deep, melodious, and magnetic. If you knew Robert, you knew that when he turned his attention to you, he was really listening to what you had to say.
One summer day in 1999, I came to pick up the bread for 12 Pine and it wasn’t ready. I was unhappy. Robert turned to me, and asked if I was having a bad day. And he really wanted to know. Nothing could have kept me away. Over the years Robert provided countless rides, gallons of gas, and birthday cakes to three little girls who, at first, he really did not know quite how to handle. “Girls are really different from boys.” Mary, Colleen, and Bridget grew to love Robert as much as I did.
We had twenty-five years of a grand (semi-scandalous) affair and one year and two days of marriage before it was all over. I was next to him when he died. His disease had ravaged the body that flipped 50 lb. bags of flour like they were nothing. But when I close my eyes and think of him, I see him lifting his head from his work and greeting whomever was coming in the door and remember how he always smelled of coffee and cinnamon and sugar. I hope that is how everyone remembers him. Robert was on this earth for seventy-eight years. And it was not nearly long enough.
The people wishing he were here:
His wife, Kim Kossick. His sons: Jason (Tina), Christopher, and Jonathan. His former wife, Janet Tyler. His step-daughters: Mary Fordham (John), Colleen Jones (Matthew), and Bridget Fordham. His grandchildren: John, Eli, and Cecilia, and step-grandchildren: Matson, Lucille, Mitchell, Amanda, George, and Josephine. His sisters: Gayle Lee and Rosemary. His best friend, Alice Groh. His goddaughter, Nicola Groh. Multiple nieces and nephews and innumerable friends.
The people who went before:
His parents: Harry and Elsie, his sister: Elaine, and his brother: Fred Koerber.
A celebration of life will be held in the spring, with details to be determined and published.
Robert was opposed to the carceral State. Memorial donations can be made to:
The New Hampshire Community Bail Fund
nhbailfund.wordpress.com
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