Good day to all! Welcome to the “front porch.”
It is January 25, 2019, as I write. My father, C.T. Bowen was born on this day, 1930. He only lived 37 years, leaving us as a young man on December 12, 1967. There was much good in those 37 years, and there was difficulty and tragedy, too. As I’ve grown older, I realize that he gave me more than I could have understood as a young boy. When he left in 1967, I was 11; so, I did not really understand much of anything, except that life sure can hurt. I never thought life was unfair, just that you have to do the best you can with what you have, and press on.
Due to my father’s difficulties, he unwittingly taught me to be somewhat of an optimist. Sometimes you have to see the hard side of life before you can smile and appreciate all the blessings that come along every day. Burying your dad at 11 teaches you that happiness largely is the absence of tragedy.
This one thing is different than I would have thought: I miss Daddy more now than I did in 1967. I am far more thankful for him now, too. Part of that comes from being a father myself and knowing the impact a father has, no matter what.
But I want you to know that in 1948 C.T. Bowen married one of the best and loveliest Southern women ever to make a home in LaGrange, Georgia! Almost any LaGrangian will tell you that Louise Bowen fit that description to a tee. And, together, she and the man they called Dut left four children, all of whom spread a good spirit wherever they go – well, I can speak for the three older ones: Jean, Tim, and Wayne. I will have to defer to others regarding the baby of the bunch, except some do say he inherited a generous portion of that Bowen humor that is well known. My sister Jean doesn’t always appreciate that humor, though, especially when I write sometimes and say that I have two of the best brothers around, and I also have a sister.
Daddy is the one who shared that Bowen blood and a little bit of that rare humor that was also indigenous to his LaGrange brothers, especially Jim, Bobby, and Bud. They all mastered the art of playful aggravation and dry-panned insult. That was their unique way of saying “Boy, I think you’re okay.”
So, I am thankful to my dad for sharing a bit of that attribute, along with many others. He was a good man, and I sure wish he could have lived more of these 89 years than he did.
But he lived long enough to give me and the others what he could. He did the best he could with the opportunities that he had, and that is all you can ask. After all, he did marry a sweet 16-year-old girl named Fanny Louise Miller, and he helped send four children out into the world with a good spirit and a smile, and we haven’t even mentioned that the highlight of his life was his decision to obey the gospel of Jesus Christ, being baptized as a young man by Preacher Miller himself, his daddy-in-law.
I would say, all together, that makes for a pretty good life.
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