All, I have not felt like writing over the last 9 months, because my best friend has been sick. Many of you know Tim from visits to our house over the years. For those who have not had the pleasure to meet Tim, I have probably shared enough stories over the years for you to feel like you know him.
After fighting Leukemia for the last year, Tim passed away last Monday, May 16, 2022. Our prayers are with his wife Kathy, his children Sean, Windy and Kyle and to his 11 grandchildren who Terri and I got to know very well over the last few weeks. We traveled to Ohio for Tim's funeral and spent a few days with Tim's extended family, who treated us wonderfully.
I would like to share the Eulogy that I gave for Tim....
Dude Man – Where are you?
We are here today to celebrate the life of Timothy Bowen.
A week or so ago, Tim asked me if I would give his eulogy at his funeral. “Of course,” I told him, “I have already been writing a story in my head.” With that he sat back in his wheelchair, smiled, and said, “thanks dude”. So here I sit typing with tears in my eyes, both laughter and sadness in my heart, and so many memories running through my mind of the things we did and the fun we have had over the years.
Writing a eulogy is both an honor and a challenge. The honor of someone thinking enough of you to ask you to do it, and the challenge and fear that you won’t do them justice. But it’s the job, so you got to get it done, and it needs be as good as you can make it.
I could tell you that Tim grew up in a large family in Ohio. And as with most large families, there were numerous stories about his brothers and sisters and their hijinks and tomfoolery they got into with each other. The alligator story is one of my favorites and how some of you had to haul it out of the wading pond each night to put it in the basement. And as it grew its bites were harder and harder until you had to wrap towels around your arms so you wouldn’t bleed to death. How one or another would break down occasionally, crying and the snot bubbles would be popping as you begged not to have to take it outside, or worse yet, go get it out the pond as the sun was setting, reflecting off its eyes which were the only thing that could be seen in the dusk. Knowing that it was not going quietly, and someone was going to be hurt.
I can tell you how Tim loved Kathy and loved to aggravate her until she would get fed up and stare at him and say “Bowen! If you don’t quit it, I’m going to strangle you…
I can tell you how he loved his kids Sean, Windy and Kyle. How proud he was of you three for so many things. This included your belt fights where no quarter was given and the only safe zone was around your mom, who would just as often kick you back into play like an errant soccer ball that had rolled over the sidelines.
I can also tell you how much Tim loves his 11 grandchildren and the times he would get to see them and tell me about what they did. He built them a massive tree fort with zip lines. Taught them how to chase the chickens around the pen until they went back into the coop. And how he broke his collarbone trying to show some of them how to jump a ramp on a bicycle. Of course, he didn’t see the wood pile he crashed in to. How his favorite shirt is the one that says - Papaw – The Man, The Myth, The Legend
I can tell you that Tim spent 20 years of his life defending our country and retired as a MSgt of Marines
I can tell you how he became a teacher for inner city kids
I can tell you how Tim made a positive impact and thousands of friends over the years
I can tell you that he is my best friend.
I can and will tell you those things, because they are all true; Hero, loving spouse and father, and proud “Papaw”
But, oh, there is so much more than that…..
When I was young, my grandfather died and at his reception I saw people laughing and joking and carrying on. My dad must have seen my puzzlement and asked me how I was doing. I asked him why people were laughing and not sad. My farther explained that funerals were not for who had just died, but for those of us who are left. My dad said, it is a time for us to gather and remember who we just lost. Everyone grieves differently, he told me. With some, it will be uncontrollable tears and gut-wrenching sobs that pull on your soul with their broken-hearted keening. Others will try to be by themselves with the tears running down their faces, suffering in silence. If you look, you can see some running around helping everyone, scrubbing dishes, putting up chairs, any task to keep their minds off the irreversible loss they had just experienced, and, to help those who simply are unable to bear the overwhelming sorrow. Then, he pointed to the laughing group, and told me that they mask their tears by bringing memories to life. Stories about their past experience and fond memories they each had of my Grandpa, and that was how they could keep his memory alive and feel like he was still there with them. Then he told me to watch closely, and I would see at some point that almost everyone would turn away from the group and wipe tears from their eyes, or blow their noses, or maybe wander off to hug and console someone and to be consoled in turn. But, if you keep watching, the stories will go on and people will filter in and out and back into the group to listen or add to the life being remembered. If you listen and remember, the person will come to life in your mind and be with you when you need them. You will be able to tell your children’s children some of those same stories and then their memories will last forever. Each of us have had some special moments with Tim and have our memories which we will want to share. So, if I may, I would like to take a few minutes to start us on this journey of dealing with our grief. Tim liked a good story as much as anyone I know, so here are a few of my memories that makeup a part of the story of our life and how I will always remember him.
I met Tim in 1982 at the Millington TN air station just north of Memphis. At the time NAS Millington was the avionics training center for the Navy and Marines. I was new to electronics having just cross trained from being “a ground pounder” with an artillery unit. Somehow, I was assigned as an instructor teaching air traffic control communication repair to people returning for advanced technician training. “C” school for you navy people. I thought they had made a big mistake assigning me there. Having just learned electronics myself, and being rather introverted, I often felt overwhelmed and behind the power curve. Our instructor staff had been shorthanded for a while, and I was the only one teaching the Techs while the other instructors taught the entry level repair classes. But two new people had just arrived to bring us closer to full strength and were going to be teaching Tech. The MATCU (Marine Air Traffic Control Unit) field was a very limited field in the Marines and basically everyone knew everyone. Being new, I didn’t know any of them yet, other than the few people I had met in the 9 months between repair and tech schools at MCAS New River in NC. So now I began to hear some outrageous stories about some guy that had broken his back swinging on vines out at Shelby Forest during school, and even though he was in a full body cast, he would waddle down the barracks stairs like a penguin running from a killer whale, yelling wait for me!!! Well, the two new guys checked in to the school-house as it was called, and reported to the NCOIC, before coming into the Comm Instructor room. The first guy in was about 6’ 4” with flaming red hair, looked like Howdy Doody and introduced himself as Skip Work. Next guy in was barely through the door when Skip turned around and yelled “Shakey”, and this guy came in laughing and poking fun at the people he knew. We are doomed I thought, but, within moments he had me laughing and feeling better about life. And I have called him Shakey ever since.
While he was waiting to attend Instructor training, Tim was assigned to work with me on the new class I had just started. The classes were super intense, electronic repair to the component level.
We started with classroom theory of a piece of equipment and then followed up by several days of laboratory troubleshooting and then a practical application test where the students must successfully identify the failed component within 30 minutes in 2 out of 3 situations. The 30-minute timeline is based on the fact that an aircraft coming to land only has 30 minutes of spare fuel. The equipment the students are trained on begins with the simplest item to the most complicated over a few months’ time. At any point during training if a student fails to pass the practical tests or written theory exams, they will be sent to an academic review board and then reassigned into some other job.
So, Tim and I have these students in the lab on the second day of their first equipment phase and they are working in pairs learning the test equipment and where the measuring points are for various signals and voltages. Suddenly the lights dim for a couple of seconds. “Step away from your equipment” I yelled, then I looked at Shakey and headed out the lab doors to the hall with a suspicion in mind. You see, the next lab over is one of the Radar labs which has a Hi voltage circuit which must be properly discharged before testing, or the student will get a 12,000 volt zap. Shakey is right on my heels and as we go through the doors, we see a student rolling around on the floor twitching and groaning as his muscles spasmed from being shocked. Within a few seconds all the labs in the hallway are open and people are starting to mill around, gawking, and babbling as they try to see what happened. “Back into the lab” all the instructors started saying pushing everyone into their rooms while the Bosses came bursting out of their offices yelling clear the hall. Tim stayed with the Radar instructor, Wally, whom he had know for years, while they waited for the ambulance to arrive. I got the students back into the lab and could tell they were nervous and a little shook up, so I reviewed all the lab safety procedures while we could hear the medical people arrive banging the gurney around and their tense talking. We had about 30 minutes to lunch time at this point and I had just got the students calmed down and back to their lab benches when Tim came through the doors. He stopped, gave me an OK sign, and thumbs up which the students couldn’t see, and then started singing:
“Another one bites the dust, and another ones gone and another ones gone another one bites the dust.” By now he reaches the front of the lab where I am, winks, and turns around and tells the students; “You better hope you pass this phase, or you’ll be going to Radar next.” He then proceeds towards the lab doors humming the tune and getting louder as he goes, he got to the door pushed one open and without losing a beat, turns and points at each pair of students one at a time singing: “Hey, I’m going to get you too, and you and you and you”, the door swings shut behind him and you can hear his voice fading away down the hallway: Another one bites the dust, another one bites the dust, and another ones gone and another ones gone….
8 Sets of eyes turn slowly towards mine, which were still locked on the doors he had just left. One of the students asked if that was true, would they be going to Radar if they failed? What could I do? I had just been exposed to the master. Yes, I said, or the crispy critters, depending on what was needed. So, pay attention in class. Since I couldn’t keep a straight face anymore, I told them to take an early lunch, and I turned away and began putting stuff in the equipment locker, banging around to cover the noise of me choking and hiding my head until I heard the last student leave. Crispy critters is the nickname for the airfield crash crew, the people who don asbestosis suits and dive into burning airplanes to save people. I don’t think I have ever had a class that paid better attention.
Occasionally you meet someone that you just click with. That’s how it was for me with Tim. I am not sure if it was because of our similar upbringing, growing up in a large family from a small town, or the fact that we were almost the same age, him being the old man with his additional 5 months, or just kismet. But he just got me. He knew when I was wrapped up in my head and would say something outrageous to make me laugh and come back to earth. We had a great time on instructor duty, we were young and full of life and our families were healthy and happy. Although, if you have not heard the story of Kyle’s birth, then you need to ask someone to tell you. We partied, drove our wives crazy and enjoyed life and helped each other out when it was needed, working on fences, or cars, or whatever it was that came up. Sometimes it would be a call and just saying I need help and either Tim would be at my house, or I would be at his. Other times it would be one of our wives calling the other one and saying he needs him, can he come over. And then there were the times that one or the other of us would just know the other needed help and would show up out of the blue just in time to prevent a meltdown.
As happens in life, we went in different directions and lost contact with each other. It happened to us because of orders sending us to different duty stations and countries. With many people in my life that would be pretty much the end of it, an occasional thought and memory and the realization that it was just life and get over it. But it was different with Tim, I was missing a part of myself and couldn’t wait to see him again. Occasionally I would meet up with someone that had been in Millington with us and the stories would start: Do you remember when Shakey did….., or, I can’t believe you guys did that.
We got back in touch with each other in the early 90’s. I had just returned from Okinawa and was sent to NAS Willow Grove, outside Philadelphia, to bring the reserve unit up to speed in case they needed to go to Iraq. My boss was in Millington where the Squadron HQ was stationed. After taking a couple of days to assess the state of the equipment and the active-duty staff, I made the call to HQ to talk to the Maintenance Chief wondering who it was and if it was somebody worth a dang or somebody who was just breathing air that could be put to better use. The call goes through, and a familiar voice starts up: MATCS 48 MSgt Bowen speaking – At which point I cut him off yelling: “Dude Man” where have you been? Man, have I got stories to tell you….. Over the next 18 months we stayed in regular contact, discussing the equipment status, and venting to each other about the hopelessness of the reserves we were supposed to be training, how some of them were totally out of shape and it was going to take some work to get ready. We did a couple of joint deployments over that time with our reserve units to bring them up to snuff, once to Whiting field just north of Pensacola and the second to Yuma air station in AZ. I think it was during this period that people started calling us the evil twins. We had little to no mercy for our people and drove them almost as hard as we drove ourselves. I have a flag that my crew in Okinawa made for me. When they would complain about things we had to do, such as taking down our portable air traffic control towers during typhoons or doing component level repairs in full MOPP (Gas and Chemical rubber protective clothing) gear, I would just say Whaaa!!! It’s the job, just get it done and cry later. So, when I was getting ready to rotate back to the US, they gave me a flag with a picture of a big bawling baby head and WHAAA!!!! Written across the top. Anyways, Tim loved my flag and when someone was whining about what they had to do during our deployments, he would shout out “Hoist the colors!!” “Aye Aye”, I would shout back and the Whaaa flag would soon be flying for everyone to see. Everyone would start searching for the downcast face that was staring at their combat boots, the person that was trying to melt into the dust so they wouldn’t be identified as the whiner.
We drove to the deployment in Yuma Az, because Dude man told me he couldn’t fly anymore. He was terrified and the last time he had flown they had to get him drunk and strapped standing to some poles with a guard in front of the hatch with a club. When they landed, they untied him, and he oozed out of the plane. I’m up for a road trip I said, so I’ll drive down from Philadelphia, pick you up and we can drive to Yuma. There are several stories from that road trip, but I will tell you one.
We were somewhere in the long stretch of Texas where there is absolutely nothing to see but dirt and sagebrush. Flat land devoid of anything living, when I asked Tim about the flying deal. So, he told me about when Kathy got cancer while they were in Japan. Having to leave Sean, Windy and Kyle in Japan with some of our other good friends while he went to be with Kathy during her treatments. His horror during the plane trip going back to Japan to pick up the kids, when the aircraft dropped thousands of feet in a downdraft, and he thought he was going to die with the kids in Japan and Kathy in the hospital. Well, that was a Debbie downer, and I felt terrible because Terri and I hadn’t been able to do anything for our family when it happened. Because Tim, Kathy and the kids had become part of our family years before. We drove on for a few minutes in silence each thinking our own thoughts, when suddenly he turned to look at me and said: Hey, can we turn off at this exit 50 miles ahead? Sure, why? Well, there is an Ostrich farm up there that I want to check out. I’m thinking about raising Ostriches after I retire. I already spoke to the owner, and he said to stop by anytime. Three hours later we were in this giant corral running away from the monster birds trying to peck our heads off and stomp us with their gigantic feet. I made it to the gate and dove through the gap in the bars a few seconds ahead of Tim and yelled over my shoulder “They only eat the slow” That got him laughing and he almost tripped right in front of a 14-foot beast.
I was transferred back to Millington to run the schoolhouse for the last 2 years before I retired, and Tim was still at North side running the reserves. He was retiring 6 months before me, and we were both preparing for our new life that would start at age 39. During this time, we became Boy Scouts leaders in our spare time as our sons were of age and were involved. So, in a short while we took over the troop as the existing leaders were transferred away or just faded away as often happens. It’s when I got Tim hooked on coffee! He may have drunk it occasionally before, but he turned in to a full-fledged caffeine junky in a short time. We named our coffee pot Mr. Nasty since we never washed it, and the boys were warned never to touch it and heaven help them if they accidently knocked it over in the campfire. As with everything else, Tim quickly adapted and excelled as a Scout Leader. Working with the boys and their parents, he took great pleasure watching the scouts develop as they learned skills and the self confidence that comes with learning how to rely on themselves. He volunteered to take kids into our troop that were having a difficult start in life, broken homes, fostered, deployed parents or just plain old rotten childhoods. With a joke and a laugh, he was able to help these kids grow and see worth in their lives.
Tim retired and became a full-time college student to become a teacher as Kathy had years before. We were still involved with the Scouts, but it became tougher to manage the time for both of us as we had little to no help from any of the other boys’ parents. He was doing a full load + at school, 15 – 18 credit hours a semester and I was still working and attending school at night. It was the job, right? We had to transition into our new lives and be able to hit the ground running while not neglecting our current obligations. So, we made a pact between us. We would stay with Scouts until our sons earned their Eagle rank or quit. During that period, we pushed and coached another 4 or 5 scouts to achieve their Eagle while our 4 sons also completed all the requirements and performed their service projects and earned their Eagles. With no other parent stepping up, we sadly closed down the troop and helped the remaining boys assimilate into the other troop in Millington.
Over the next 20 years we stayed in constant contact. Saturday nights were Mexican dinner and Canasta games for the four of us. Tim became a teacher and taught elementary school to inner city kids. He both loved and hated it and we would talk about it often. He would tell me stories about the kids and how he would get them to master the subjects. The things he would do to try and get their attention and eagerness. If you have ever worked with children, then you will understand what he meant. There is that moment with someone who has been struggling, when you can see in their eyes that they get it. Suddenly, they understand what you are teaching, and their eyes shine with pride and happiness in themselves as they comprehend. For a teacher, it is worth the world. Tim excelled in this, he was able to find the way to get through to people and help them be better than they were before. For many children, Tim may have been the first adult they ever met to treat them positively. He hated the politics in the school system and stayed with it for as long as he could, but wisely left when he was at the point that he could no longer tolerate the idiocy from above. He followed that up by turning into a farmer, no crops, but he raised chickens and then killer dogs that he trained to provide security for people’s protection. I warned him to be careful, because if he fell and broke his hip those dogs would eat him before anyone would know. But Tim was always good with dogs and could get them to follow commands, something I have never been able to do.
Then his new idea came up, he was going to start selling everything off and full time RV for a few years and then spend a couple of years boating around the costal waterways. Having had experienced his navigation skills on water previously, I mentioned that he may want to reconsider the last part. Off they went. Kathy and Tim were on the road, and they stopped and stayed with us for a few weeks the following summer at our house in Michigan and the Canasta games resumed for a while.
Tim, I was so jealous the next couple of years while you and Kathy were roaming around the country. I would follow your adventures on Facebook and the pictures you posted of all the cool things they you guys were seeing and doing. And I kept responding to your posts: wait for me I want to have fun too.
We met up a year and a half ago and spent the winter in Florida. Oh man, we had some fun. Snorkeling, telling stories, chasing alligators. Remember when that bird stole my alligator sandwich out of my hand? We spent the winter just roaming around enjoying each day as it came. As always, you would talk me in to doing things I would never do on my own, like chasing alligators off the road. Those three months were the deciding moment for Terri and me, we were missing out on too much fun. It broke our heart when we drove away from the campground in Ft. Meyers while you and Kathy were standing on the side of the road waving goodbye to us. On the way back home to Michigan, we decided that it was time to become Gypsies with you and Kathy and roam around the US following the 70-degree temperature line. We made plans to meet up in a few months and then we would spend the winter in Florida again and then off we were going to go and spend the next 6 months or so driving to and around in Alaska. Staying until we had to head south, before we got snowed in. We had a rough game plan, and I couldn’t wait. To loosely quote Dr. Seuss; Oh, the places we would go and the people we would see. It was going to be an adventure.
We met in NY this last summer and I could tell we probably were not going to make it to Alaska. You were not feeling well and had no energy. So, we rode our bikes around like little kids laughing at life while we could. Terri and I were so worried that you were not up for the drive to Memphis, but I understood that like before, it was the job and you had to get it done. Not long after that, Terri and I got to Millington and parked our trailer on the other side of the circle from you two and the canasta games started up again. It was right about then that they officially diagnosed you with Leukemia. After we all shook off the initial sledgehammer shock of the news, I said, “well, I’m not going to treat you any different than in the past. I might not be quite as vicious as your brothers and sisters might be, but it would be close”. The Gatorade shot out of your nose as you choked on your laugh, because I had timed it perfectly.
It’s been hard these last several month’s watching this rotten disease eat you alive. But you didn’t give up. You fought back and tried everything possible to beat it. Amazingly, you kept your sense of humor throughout this terrible time and still had me laughing last week. When we could, we walked and told stories to each other, like when the Ostrich almost bit your head off, about the pokey bush, and the time when you swamped our canoe watching some critter swimming in the river. How you drove up and just started laughing at me when I ripped the garage door off its tracks in a fit of anger during the ice storm. The only words out of your mouth were “Duuuude I wished I had seen that”!
We have been blunt with each other over the years, it is just how we are. Not long ago we were talking about the different medicines you were on and the various treatments they could do and how much of it you could put up with. I told you that you would know when you got to that point. You thought about that for a few seconds and then laughed and said, well I’m not there yet, let’s go for a spin. And off we went on our bikes, you standing and bouncing like a little kid. We came up on 3 bucks on the path ahead of us trapped between the fence lines and you said let’s get them. Those poor deer had to run flat out for a half mile before the right-side fence veered away from the path and they could get away. Last week while I was pushing you around the park you asked me how long I was going to stay in the Memphis area, and I tried to hedge my answer and avoid the subject. I knew what you were asking me, and I didn’t want to answer. You wouldn’t let me get away with it and turned to look at me and said “Dude”, so I told you the truth, that Terri and I would be here until the end and beyond, until Kathy no longer needed us. You looked me in the eyes and said, “Thanks Dude.”
I am going to miss you! Your optimism, your crazy ideas, your laughter and how you can make me laugh and feel like a kid. Some of your phrases will be with me for the rest of my life: “Winner, winner chicken dinner”; “What, what chicken butt”; and “he was running and crying until snot bubbles were exploding all over”, and my favorite – “No thanks, I just had a bar of soap”. I always pictured you as a kid standing in a corner with a bar of Lava stuck in your mouth, sniveling, with a runny nose while rubbing your sore butt.
Sometime over the last 40 years we developed a complete language out of the word Dude. How with the inflection of our voices either one of us could tell what the other meant:
Duuude – that one wore me out
Dude!– You were out of line on that one
Duddde – Cut them some slack
Dude – I can’t believe I did that
Dude – I can’t believe you did that
Du-ude – you should have been there
Duuuddde – That was one for the books and is what legends are made of
And our most recent phrases
Dude – I’m dying
Dude – I know buddy
I am going to miss you, my buddy. A couple of weeks ago I got to come see you at the hospital. One of the nurses came in to check your vitals and then introduced herself to me and you told her this is my best friend, Chris. It made my day and broke my heart because you would soon be gone. I love you and will miss you, but you will be with me forever. As I go roaming around finding cool stuff to do and see, I will be thinking of you often and sending my thoughts out to the cosmos for you to get.
Dude Man – Where are you? You should have been there! You will never guess what I just saw and have I got a story for you!!!
In my minds eye I will see you racing around the universe on your bike, standing, and bouncing from planet to planet.
And I will hear your voice echoing through time and space:
“What what chicken butt, put it in a pot and stir it up.”
Thank you for taking the time to read about my buddy, and please send your prayers to his family.
Chris
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