Dad

April 1, 2022: Travels with Dad to his final resting place

(Note that Dad had a great sense of humor and would have loved this story.)

Dad passed away in August, 2021, just shy of 92 years.   Because of COVID concerns we weren’t quite sure when we would schedule the memorial service, but we finally planned for a trip to Seattle in April 2022 to honor him and place his ashes next to Mom.

In the meantime, his ashes were placed in a lovely cobalt blue urn and remained with his wife, Audrey, until final disposition.

Fast forward to April 2022, when it was time to head north for the memorial service.

I learned a lot about traveling with remains.  It’s not easy.

There are not a lot of options to ship ashes.  In fact, there is only one option.  The US Post Office.  I was visualizing Dad ending up in Saskatoon instead of Seattle.  But, gamely, I ordered the free “Send your remains” package which includes all necessary packaging and labels.  I still am waiting for it.  Eighteen months later.  

I decided to bring Dad on the flight with me. 

Next challenge:  urns are opaque and can’t go through TSA screening.  Who knows what I could be smuggling in there along with Dad?  Diamonds?  Drugs?   Snack food that TSA would toss at security?    Ashes must be in an approved, scannable container.

So, I went to that repository of all things available to purchase:  Amazon.  (I will say I prefer to shop locally but sometimes you just have to ignore your morals and get what you need NOW.)   Yes, they have the “take your dad’s ashes to Seattle” TSA-approved kit and I could get it the next day.  That in itself was worth the Prime membership.

The supplies came the next day and here’s where it first got weird.  Maneuvering a heavy Ziploc bag out of an urn with a narrow neck and moving it to the travel box while being reverent and respectful.   After about 20 minutes of easing the bag out of the urn, Dad was now in his travel box and ready for the flight.  I was relieved. 

I made the mistake of packing Dad in a lovely large square tote bag along with other items that didn’t fit in my suitcase.   Ashes are surprisingly heavy.  And the tote bag, while lovely, didn’t have wheels and it got heavier as the day progressed.

I was prepared with a death certificate at TSA and alerted the agent that Dad was with me.  She said a few times, “I am so very sorry for your loss,” as she completely unpacked the tote bag, sent Dad through the X-Ray machine, and then left me to repack everything back in the tote.  While trying to put my shoes back on and look for my purse.   

Next stop was the ladies’ room.  I have never had Dad with me in a bathroom stall.  Dad, please don’t look!

The flight was full!  Agents begged travelers to check their bags if possible.  As I visualized Dad coming down the baggage carousel, box breaking open and scattering him around Carousel 3 I declined the request.   He loved to travel, and his passport was full of exotic adventures, but I don’t think he would have liked that experience.

Please God, no turbulence on the flight.  I don’t want Dad falling out of the overhead bin and landing on an unsuspecting passenger.

Landing at Sea-Tac:  of course, the gate is the furthest one away from baggage claim.   I am not making this up.  What you may not know is that a few months earlier, I had major surgery repairing a fractured elbow (dominant arm, of course) and I couldn’t carry anything with that arm.  I had to stop every 50 feet to rest and curse the lack of a wheeled carry-on.  Wearing a mandatory mask didn’t help.  

God bless the rental car shuttle driver who took pity on me and helped Dad and me onto the bus and then rounded up a cart when we got to the rental car terminal.  He is still my hero.  I have never tipped someone that much before or since.

After getting my car, the first stop was meeting my brother and sister-in-law at the funeral home to confirm plans for the service and to have Dad’s ashes moved into an engraved container that matched the one for Mom.   It’s rather cool that the area where they are inurned looks like a library.  The funeral director reverently took the ashes away, then returned a few minutes later with a concerned look.  It turns out there were two extra cups of Dad’s ashes that didn’t fit in the book/urn.  Seriously…??!!  I called Dad’s wife – you want some of Dad back with you in Laguna?   Do we mingle with Mom?  Toss on Uncle Ron’s grave?  It was truly funny at that point.  I couldn’t fathom dragging part of Dad home on more flights…especially since I was heading to Alaska after Seattle.  

We decided to put the remaining ashes in a second container that is behind the main one.   If I ever go to a magic act and see someone cutting his assistant in half, I will be forever reminded of Dad languishing in two separate containers. 

The memorial service was lovely and intimate.  My cousin officiated and it was perfect.  We even had several friends and family joining us on Zoom.  I think Dad would have been pleased.  He left a legacy and I am grateful to have had him as my father and role model. 

Oh…and the cobalt blue urn?  It remains on my piano behind a photo of Dad and it’s a wonderful flower vase.  I smile every time I refresh the flowers.

August 12, 2021: RIP George W Bowman

November 15, 1929 – August 12, 2021

George Bowman, 91, was born in Greenville, Ohio, to George W. Bowman Sr. and Merea Miley Bowman. George remained in Greenville through high school graduation, and though his primary focus was in math and science, he enjoyed music and mastered the accordion as well as theatrical arts, earning a musician’s union card as a teenager.

After a year at the University of Cincinnati, George enrolled at the United States Military Academy at West Point, N.Y., graduating in 1952. He married Mary Elaine Kirtland — whom he met through a cross-country correspondence — in Seattle in 1953, and in the years that followed served his country proudly in Korea and at various U.S. Army bases before joining McDonnell-Douglas Corp. as an aerospace engineer and technical writer.  He remained at McDonnell-Douglas (later Boeing) until his retirement, when he and Elaine moved to Lompoc, Calif., in 1987.

George and Elaine had three children: James, David (LeNore) and Kathleen (Peter) Gonzalez. George was a hands-on father and always an outstanding role model for his kids, serving as master of David’s Cub Scout troop and as a parental advisor for Kathy’s Job’s Daughters group.  George exemplified unlimited patience and compassion toward James, who had Down Syndrome, and taught his children to be kind and accepting to all. He was always available to guide and support his family and to cheer them on with wisdom, enthusiasm and a quiet yet witty disposition. 

George’s wife Elaine died in 1998, and he was lucky to find another amazing woman in Audrey Hudson, a fellow docent at La Purisima Mission in Lompoc. They were married in 1999 and relocated to Laguna Woods, Calif., in 2016 to be near their blended families.

George’s passion was stamp collecting, and he won many top awards at international shows.   His diverse interests also included world travel and running a successful tienda at La Purisima. 

He was an usher and leader at St. Cross Episcopal Church in Hermosa Beach and, later, active at St. Mary’s in Lompoc. He taught his kids to fish, ride a bike, throw a ball, drive a car, balance a checkbook, play Beatles songs on the piano, cheer on the local pro sports teams, love life and live in integrity. He will be greatly missed, and he will continue to live forever in our hearts.

George is survived by wife Audrey, son David, and daughter Kathy. 

A celebration of George’s life will be held at a later date.