Sandy was my step dad for many years and have lots of memories with him ages my family that were once shared. I feel sad to see he passed way. He really was a good step dad to me. May he rest in peace.

82 years. If someone had told me in 1989 that we would be here in 2026 celebrating my dad’s 82nd year, I would have bet against those odds in a heartbeat. After all, that was the year he had a triple bypass—the same year as my first semester in college. Yet, here we are celebrating the long, full life of my father, Sandy Bowler. "Celebration" is a funny word for moments like this, isn’t it? My dad was my biggest cheerleader for as long as I can remember. Even at nearly 55 years old, I would still call him up just to say, “Hey Dad, guess what happened today.” It is incredibly hard knowing I’ll never make that phone call again. For over 35 years, my father beat the odds, and he did so with a story worth telling. Looking back at the scrapbooks my mom put together, it’s clear that my dad was my first hero (though Adam West’s Batman gave him some stiff competition). Growing up, Dad loved two things: football and muscle cars. He used to brag about a hit so hard he broke a kid’s ribs, and he dreamed of owning classics like the Dodge Charger or the Chevy SS396 Chevelle. He was a bit of a "hell-raiser" back then with a love for speed—something I probably would have been grounded for life for doing. He even joked that he could make his car go faster just by rocking back and forth in the driver’s seat. Eventually, that love for racing took us to NASCAR tracks together, where we cheered for Mark Martin and the #6 Ford. In the early seventies, Dad operated a couple of Derby gas stations. He did the "Dad things" well: he taught me baseball, introduced me to legends like Johnny Bench and Pete Rose, and took Kim and I on the Great American Road Trip to the West Coast just like the Griswold’s. As well, he ventured out into the woods to cut down the perfect Christmas tree with my sisters Kim and Robyn. He would go out of our way to show us something trivial on the road trip—probably adding an hour to the trip. He also helped me develop a love for theme parks. Though I started as a "chicken" who would cry at the sight of a thrill ride, I eventually embraced his love for roller coasters. My only regret is that I never got to enjoy one last ride with him. By the late 70s, we moved from St. Louis back to Southwest Missouri, where Dad joined the family business, B&R Drilling. I remember the first time I saw him drilling a well; I was amazed by the massive drill rig and the rotary mechanism driving steel into the earth. I became a regular fixture on those jobs long before "Take Your Child to Work Day" was a thing. Dad always joked it was just my excuse to try every "choke-and-puke" burger joint in the area. Despite working 80-hour weeks, he still found time to coach my Little League team. We were a rag-tag bunch from Strafford—a town of fewer than 500 people back then—and we only won one game in two seasons. But he was always encouraging. I remember him moving me to leadoff because he believed in me. That night I struck out every time. I aspired to be just like him. I’d build Lego drilling rigs and draw pictures of him in his blue work clothes and trucker cap. I never understood how he could come home covered in mud and grease while my Uncle Lawrence stayed perfectly clean, but I thought what he did was the coolest thing in the world. As I got older, our bond grew through the Boy Scouts and my growing passion for cycling. My bike was my ticket to freedom—and sometimes my ticket to trouble. I’ll never forget the time I tried to bike to Marshfield at twelve years old and got a flat tire; Dad found out because my friend’s mom called him. He realized then how much I wanted to ride, and he began to trust me. He made sacrifices to support my goals. He’d drive forty minutes out of his way to pick me up when I broke down. He was there on a freezing, rainy November day for my first biathlon. When I had to stop because I was too cold to continue, he didn't care that I didn't finish. He put my bike on the drill rig truck, turned up the heat, and told me he was proud of me. That was the real win. As adults, we realize that time isn't always our friend. My dad was a provider, which meant many hours away from home, but he gave us everything he had left at the end of the day. He taught us values that we now apply to our own families. He was a loving man who rarely stayed angry. His proudest legacy wasn't the wells he drilled or the roads he paved—it was his children. He told me recently that watching Kim, Robyn, and me grow into adults was his greatest achievement. Beyond the family, Dad served as the Mayor of Strafford. He was so proud of bringing Camping World to town and improving the community. My sister loved the benefits of getting out of her speeding tickets when the officer noticed her last name on her license. My mom was less thrilled about dad’s involvement in local politics and was irked when he moved the street light in front of our house at the request of a neighbor further down the street. 


Later in life, as his health declined, he drove a school bus for special needs children. He had such a big heart; he couldn't stand to retire, so even when he could no longer drive, he stayed on as an attendant just to be with the kids. Dad was a hard-headed Bowler, so he didn’t our advice that due to his health, he really needed to stop driving. One of my greatest joys was seeing him join our church family at Union Hill Church of Christ. Watching him wheel his walker down the aisle to sit with us brought me immense happiness. When he rededicated his life to Christ, it was a moment I will always treasure. My dad lived 82 years against the odds. He had a beaten body from years of hard labor, but he had a spirit that wouldn't quit. We tested each other's patience over the years, but through the power of forgiveness, we always found our way back to laughter. If I’ve learned anything from Sandy Bowler, it’s that a big heart and a little hard-headedness can take you a very long way.

Our thoughts & prayers are with you all at this time.

Robin and family I met your dad once at your house. He was a very nice and talkative man . God be with you all during this time ! 🙏🙏🙏🙏Marianne

Please accept our deepest condolences for your family's loss.