Edward Wallace Lowder

A LOVING TRIBUTE
TO A MOST REMARKABLE MAN ...

Some men want to be rich and powerful.
Some want to be famous and highly regarded by other men.
Some just seek an easy life of pleasure and feathering their own nest.

Very few of them are ever satisfied or truly happy or fulfilled in life.

From his early childhood, Edward Wallace Lowder wanted to be a sunbeam for Jesus. He achieved his goal.

Much can be said of Ed’s service to the communities where he lived and the various organizations in which he was active and the countless awards he received ... but something else is much more significant.

Ed loved people ...
and he made sure they felt loved.

Jesus Christ gave us all one simple command which sums up the essence of life:
“Love one another.” (John 15:17) Throughout his life, Ed continually studied
that lesson and he never stopped practicing.

Some people call Ed’s outlook on life an amazingly positive attitude.

He called it being a sunbeam for Jesus.

Ed’s life was a testimony of faithful love ...

His 61-year marriage to his beloved wife Mabel is a testimony of unfailing faithfulness and devotion and kindness and thoughtfulness and tenderness. Her love and devotion deserve much of the credit for Ed becoming the person he became.

Ed’s love and generosity to his children and grandchildren were a further testimony of true love. Ed and Mabel raised two children: Joe, who lives on Camano Island, in Washington; and Judy Vidal, who lives in Rapid City, South Dakota.

At the age of 70, Ed started a new enterprise. He worked tirelessly for 15 years recycling hundreds of thousands of aluminum cans in order to establish education funds for his grandsons, Greg and Jason Lowder and Brus and Matthew Vidal.

And he whistled while he worked ...

and sang songs and told stories and brought his own special brand of happiness and joy into the lives of everyone around him ... while he worked as a machinist for 26 years, then as a Texaco service station owner, then as a traveling automotive parts salesman, and finally as a paint and home decorating store owner until he retired in 1971.

Throughout his life, Ed’s love for people kept shining ever brighter.

When Ed and Mabel moved from their home in Broken Bow, Nebraska to Seattle, Washington, they settled in Burien and Ed immediately became involved in service to his new community. He visited the sick and elderly in nursing homes every week to cheer them up and shop for them ... and love them. He continued his life-long involvement in Rotary, exemplifying their moto: “Service above Self” He helped the Highline Chamber of Commerce regain dozens of former members and many new members, and he was honored as the Burien-White Center Man of the Year just eight months after he moved to the community. A few years later, he was even made honorary Mayor of Burien and given a cherished “Big Fish” award.

Ed never considered himself to be a “Big Fish,” however; but simply a servant to the people he loved ... everybody he met.

All he wanted to be was a sunbeam for Jesus.

A FEW FOND REFLECTIONS ABOUT OUR DAD

“Into each life some rain must fall.”

Trials to test our faith are inevitable. They are part of the Masters plan. And when difficult trials do come, they tend to reveal our true colors.

In the face of the most difficult trial of his life, everyone around dad marveled at his faith, his positive outlook, his peace, and his expressions of thanksgiving to his Heavenly Father for all of his blessings. No complaints ... not a hint of “Why me?”

Reflections from son Joe:

As I think back over my dads life, among many other lessons he taught me by the example of his life was that each and every day God gives us life is a precious gift ... no matter what the circumstances of that day.

Beyond that priceless lesson, I fondly remember all the times we went fishing and hunting together and worked together in our service station and all the fun we had with our pet raccoon and pet coyote. Perhaps what I remember best is that dad never stopped singing and whistling and he never ran out of stories ... indeed he was a sunbeam for Jesus.

I remember when I was just a little boy, dad used to lock me in between his legs while I squirmed and wiggled trying to get free. I remember us building fantastic things with the erector set. I remember pleading to go to work with him at the machine shop ... and then, when he did take me, how he patiently taught me how to use the lathe. And I remember the fire works stand we had (back when they were legal) and dropping cherry bombs into Muddy Creek making huge water geysers. Oh, the joy of simple pleasures.

I remember going to look at the new Studebaker we bought when it was in the showroom and then later riding back and forth on the switchbacks up and down the Rocky mountains while on vacation. Then, years later, in high school, getting to have that Studebaker as my own car. Before that, I remember when dad took me down to the Ford dealer and bought that nifty 1947 Ford coupe for me. I remember when he taught me how to drive and his incredible patience with me, even when I made a mistake and got us stuck. I remember our vacations, especially our trip to Chicago when the hood flew up on the Studebaker blocking our view on the freeway, and yet he remained cool under pressure. I remember going to the Yankees and White sox game and to Dallas to see Nebraska play in the Cotton Bowl. Oh, how I wanted to see dad jump into the swimming pool fully dressed as he had promised to do if Nebraska had only won ...

How many children in the history of the world do you suppose could honestly say that they do not remember a single time that they were ever angry or upset with or disappointed in their dad? Perhaps I am the only one.

I wonder how many men have ever had a dad who loved them as much as my dad loved me? He set an amazing example ... especially during the final trial he faced. And the peace of God which passes all understanding was clearly evident in him.

Thanks, Dad!

Reflections from daughter Judy ...

The following poem was written by Judy
as a Christmas present to her dad December 25, 1974

MY DAD

My Dad is love with a mustache, and a tiny wad of Black Jack gum ...

He’s the voice of enthusiasm at the game on Friday night,
and the quiet of prayer in Church on Sunday morning ...
He’s the articulate author of a noble cause in the Public Pulse,
and the carefree typist of “day-brighteners” to countless friends ...
He’s a warm lap to sit upon and watch the Yankees on the television,
and the winning combination in checkers, cribbage, and casino ...
He’s a senior Citizen, for the record,
and a Record for senior citizens ...
He’s a patriotic American, and a grandson’s “Horsey-in-the-street” ...
He’s the husband of a woman more precious than gold,
and the father of a young man who is the silver lining ...
He’s the “Man-of-the-Year” in Burien,
and the Sunrise and the Sunset in my heart.

Merry Christmas, Dad

EPILOG

Some people have a terrible fear of death and dying. But the peace of God which passes all understanding does, indeed, accompany those who have sincerely accepted Jesus Christ as their personal Savior and truly made him Lord of their life. Dad did early in life and he rededicated himself to our Lord many times. In the closing days and hours of his life, dad amazed everyone with the peace and joy he reflected, in spite of great discomfort at times. He knew where he was going and he was ready to go home to be with his Lord. What a testimony. Oh, that we might all be so devoted to the One who gave us life.

A FEW CHOICE SELECTIONS FROM DAD’S JOURNAL ...

Because we all enjoyed so many of dads delightful stories, a few years ago, we gave him one of those bound books with all blank pages in it and asked him to write down some of his fantastic stories. Here, following his own very brief autobiography, are a few choice selections:

Edward Wallace Lowder. Born in Grand Island, Nebraska, March 26, 1906, the youngest child of Joseph Gilbert and Hattie Marie (Varenkamp) Lowder.

The Lowders moved to Broken Bow, Nebraska in the fall of 1908. Ed graduated from Broken Bow High School in June 1924. In the fall of 1924, Ed started to work in his father’s machine shop, learning the trade. He worked for his father until 1944 when he purchased the business.

November 9th, 1930, Ed married Mabel E. Norland and to this union two children were born. A son, Joe, and a daughter, Judy.

In December 1951, Ed sold the machine shop and for the next four years, he operated a Texaco service station east of Broken Bow. In 1955, he started working for Wenquist Auto Supply as a salesman.

In June 1960, Ed and his wife opened a paint and wallpaper store on the south side of the square in Broken Bow and in the fall of 1962, they purchased the store from Brown & Denesia (the original owners).

January 1st, 1971, Ed and Mabel sold the paint store to Gene and Lola Chapin.

In September, 1971, the Lowders moved to Burien, Washington where they started a new life in the Great Pacific Northwest.

SOME OF DAD’S FAVORITE STORIES ...

Age five, and my first day at kindergarten is vivid in my memory. My sister Ruth, age eight, took me to the school house and delivered me to the kindergarten room. The teacher was Miss Snydon, and before the year was over, we all loved her. But that first day at school was a nightmare in my memory.

A couple of years later, in the second grade, some of us boys were becoming adept in the art of making life miserable for our fellow students. On one occasion, Rolla Spencer and I took a couple of live mice to school and turned them loose in Lola Daggett’s desk. When school took up and Lola raised the top of the desk to get her books, the mice came bounding out and bedlam prevailed. Miss Snydon got up on a chair and hollered. The janitor came and put an end to the mouse adventure. That was the first and last time we took mice to school.

Once Judge H. M. Sullivan told Rolla Spencer and I we could ride his little black mare to the county fair. My dad never wanted me to be around horses, but after some pleading, dad recanted and said, “Go ahead, you and Rolla have a good time.” I ran across the street where Rolla was sitting atop the little mare, threw up my hands and hollered, “Dad said I could go ...” That yell spooked the little mare and she gave a vicious kick and one hoof caught me in the forehead. Well, I didn’t go to the fair. Dr. Mullins sewed up the gash in my forehead and told my folks it was lucky the hoof hit me a glancing blow or it would have been bye bye Eddie.

One summer Harry Sheppard and I thought we would develop a snake farm. We fashioned a nice sized enclosure out of small mesh hail screen. Then the search was on to locate and capture some snakes. We caught several water snakes, a sand viper or two, some bull snakes, and on one occasion, we almost had a rattle snake captured, but during the attempt, we reflected upon the dire possibility of what would happen if he struck one of us before we captured him. So, we killed him. Our snake farm was coming along pretty good ‘til one night they all got away. Two big bull snakes ended up in Mrs. Sheppard’s brooder house and ate about a dozen baby chicks. Believe me, that ended the snake farm venture.

One summer, Sells-Floto Circus came to town and set up on the Harbaugh pasture grounds in the west end of Broken Bow. I carried water to the elephants and carried tent stakes to where they were to be driven into the ground. For this menial labor, I was paid with a pass to the circus the next day. But my grandfather, James Lowder, had attempted to walk from Broken Bow to Oconto the previous day and he was overcome by the mid-July heat and died in a pasture about half way to Oconto. They had his funeral the day I was to go to the circus. Of course, I had to go to the funeral instead of to the circus. For years, I thought, “How could grandpa be so inconsiderate as to die on the day I was to go to the circus.” As I grew up, though, I learned that grandfather Lowder was a fine man and a Civil War veteran. What trials growing up bring.

May 25, 1924, I graduated from good old Broken Bow High School. A week or so after graduation, I asked my dad if I could have the car on Saturday night. He said no, we have an agreement that you get to take the car one night a week, and you had it Wednesday night. I said, “Dad, this is different.” He said, “A rule is a rule.” I said, “Dad, you better decide to let me have the car before 5:00 PM Saturday night or I will catch the next freight train out of town.” Dad said, “Son, if one leaves before 5:00 PM, don’t pass it up.”

I went downtown and ran across Orville Henderson, who was on the outs with his dad and the two of us grabbed the next freight train going west. A few days later, we arrived in Denver, Colorado. Orville deserted me and wired his dad for money and went back to Broken Bow. I wandered around Denver for three days trying to find him. I caught a freight train out of Denver and, after being kicked off several times, arrived in Salina, Kansas. I met a fellow from Wisconsin and he and I freight trained it to Hutchinson, Kansas. There he pawned his watch and purchased two tickets to Fowler, Kansas. We both got harvest jobs at the Hugh Bartlett wheat farm. My folks never knew where I was, but I kept in touch with a girl, Cornelia Ayers, who never told anyone she was hearing from me. When my sister Mae was about to be married, Cornelia wrote and told me that they sure wish I would be home for the wedding. That was the call that brought me back to Broken Bow. When I arrived home on the midnight train, #41, mother and my two sisters got up and welcomed the return of the lost sheep. Dad did not get up. But the next morning, he met me with, “Good morning, tramp.”