When a high award for exemplary service is presented by the military, the citation generally includes the phrase, “above and beyond the call of duty.”
If the Falls City Ceremonial Honor Guard were handing out any awards, that phrase surely would have accompanied the presentation to John B. Bowers, who passed away July 8.
When John and June, a couple of retirees, came down from Lincoln to make their home in Falls City and both became involved in community activities, it wasn’t long before John, an Air Force veteran, joined the Ceremonial Honor Guard which, among other activities, at the family’s request conducts a graveside tribute to a deceased veteran. Larry Whalen, Ceremonial Honor Guard commander, could always count on John being there.
Then came the sad day three years ago when John was diagnosed with a brain tumor with surgeries, chemo and misery to follow. Most guys would have turned in their Honor Guard uniform. Not John.
I can readily recall a graveside service for a veteran on a very cold and blustery winter day. The funeral service in town ran a little longer than expected and about half a dozen Ceremonial Honor Guard members kept shivering and waiting at graveside at Steele Cemetery. When the service moved to the cemetery I saw John Bowers standing there in uniform, waiting to participate in the tribute. I couldn’t believe it—a man who had undergone three brain surgeries still standing tall to honor a fellow veteran.
He never quit. A month or so ago, when he no longer was able to drive, June took him to the Partlow Cemetery on the Iowa Tribal Reservation to be a part of the Ceremonial Honor Guard paying tribute at a veteran’s burial service.
Then there he was, participating in the recent Memorial Day program at Steele Cemetery. He didn’t treat his showing up in uniform as any big deal. I sure did.
“Above and beyond the call of duty” all the way in any man’s army, as the saying goes.
——
Some will remember that last year’s Missouri River flood gouged a gigantic hole on Missouri’s Highway 111, south of Craig and west of Mound City. I believe it had been called “The Beast.”
The Mound City News reported that it is nearly filled. When the story appeared a couple of weeks ago, 3,011 cubic yards of sand had been moved into the hole, much of the sand coming from 90 acres of nearby farmland which the flood had deposited there.
The News put the situation into perspective. “The amount of sand, if it were converted to asphalt, would cover 867 miles of roadway with a one-inch overlay; or it would fill 95 Olympic-sized swimming pools; or it would cover a regulation football field l45 feet high.”
——
Marlen Luff, Caldwell, ID, who managed the Flying L trailer factory here before moving on, finds it impossible to quit working, although he officially retired from the global company (MULTIQUIP) out of California in 2010. He retired for about 12 hours, didn’t like it, and became Safety and Health manager for the Treasure Valley Seed Co. LLC and then was moved up to Food Safety manager.
“Hey man, I’m only 74,” he notes, and continues, “I miss Falls City and will always consider it my home town.” Marlen keeps in touch through the Journal.
——
When I was going through Journals of July l962 hunting items for the “Days of Yore” column I read the “25 Years Ago” column in one issue, which would have put events in the column back to July of l937.
A Flying Circus was in town and during the show a parachutist (pretty rare in those days) thrilled the crowd by jumping out of an airplane and floating down. His pay apparently was a free-will offering, so after he was safely on the ground and he got rid of the parachute he passed the hat through the crowd that had cheered his jump. He wound up with $2.50. Waitresses slinging hash for tips in the numerous cafes of that time probably would have understood. And besides, it was in the midst of the Great Depression.
But $2.50!