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Glenn Rowley

Glenn Rowley

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July 17, 2018
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July 17, 2018
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Please don't submit copyrighted work; original poems, songs or prayers welcomed.

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April 25, 2004
Pop Rowley was a true gentleman whose character and ethics made him a true American to be proud of.

Pop Rowley... you will surely be missed.

Elle
April 25, 2004
Best wishes.
April 25, 2004
Thoughts on my father, Glenn Fuller Rowley.

The very first death I recall was President Kennedy’s. I was in grade school and my teacher, Mr. Johnson, was in tears over it. I remember being in awe of that – crying for someone you didn’t even know.

Here I am, now, trying to recall things about my father. Dad meant so much to me. One of my first memories is of him on a tractor in Napa, on our farm. Later, I remember an especially beautiful morning: the sky was purple, the sun just rising, and me wiping the sleep out of my eyes in the seat of a truck going dove hunting with my father. So many times, so many mornings he got me out of bed (and I’m a night person) to go fishing. Ham sandwiches thick with mayonnaise and cheese. The ocean. So many little memories of my father; little treasures that I’ll never forget.

I remember one day, the summer before I went away to college. Dad and I went north from Arroyo Grande to Yreka and Humboldt Bay, to spend the summer salmon fishing for my spending money for college. The money we made – not much now, but at 50 to 75 cents a pound, a lot of money in 1970 dollars – helped, but the summer we spent together was even more special. But, back to that day: fog, as thick as any of the Central Valley, moved in. Dad and I were just in sight of land before the fog came in. I remember asking him “Don’t you think we should head back?” and his reply “Nope, we’re fine”. And we were. Dad could find his way with a compass and his ears on the ocean. We didn’t do that well for salmon that day, but we had a great time. Dad’s quiet confidence in himself and in me was always an inspiration for me.

I like to kid my brothers that Mom and Dad were always trying to “get it right” when they were having kids, and that’s why they stopped with me. The fact of the matter is, all my brothers remind me of my father. Jim, the oldest, has Dad’s confidence and determination. Don, the second son, has Dad’s gift of charisma; everyone loves Don. Dick, the third son, has Dad’s incredible ability with anything mechanical. Truth be known, by the time I came along most of Dad’s incredible gifts were given – so he gave me the most precious: his time.

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