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Charles H. Fowler

November 29, 1927 ~ June 14, 2018 (age 90)
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Charles Fowler lived a life of 90+ years filled with love, simplicity, humility, laughter, and fun.  He knew how to make a good joke, have a good time, and enjoy life’s simple pleasures. 

In his younger years, you could find all the neighborhood kids (especially the boys), hanging out with "Mr. Charlie."  He was a constant presence on Colonial Drive from the time it was built.  Always up for a grand adventure, boating excursion, or ice skating trip.  He taught the neighborhood kids how to fix their bikes, water ski, build, fish, among other things.  He was a second father to many of the boys on the street and they spent more time at his house than their own.  He imparted his wisdom on the minds of many.  In his later years, you could find him sitting in his white rocking chair on the front porch of his home that he lived in since 1953, his best girl by his side, watching the sunset, the happenings on the street, and contemplating what he was going to have for breakfast the next morning.  He made new friends with the families that moved in over the years, but those from the past never forgot him.  "Boys" now in their 50s and 60s who grew up in the neighborhood still stopped by to say "hi" to "Mr. Charlie."  

As a father, he was just as important and even more so.  He was a prankster at heart and always kept life interesting.  For his eldest daughter Cindy, he appreciated her soft sensitive side but never failed to push the envelope with her, toughening her up along the way.  He embraced the head strong nature of his youngest daughter Peggy and marveled at her drive, determination and self sufficiency.

As a husband he knew the most important rules: a smile and saying “whatever you say” goes along way.  He was an easy going and dynamic teammate to his wife Gloria (“Mimi), especially in their retired years.  They operated as a complete unit.  They vacationed as much as they could and enjoyed good food along the way.  He also remembered the little things.  Mimi would comment how after 66 years of marriage, he still said "thank you" and was truly grateful when she brought him a drink or his nighttime snack.  He remembered the simple acts of love, right up until his final days...drying the dishes, fixing Mimi’s coffee, and always lending a listening ear. 

As a grandfather to Betsy, there was no comparison.  He always took the time to teach and play...from baseball in the back yard, to flying kites, to riding bikes, to the ever common request to pull his finger.  He was entirely present in moments spent together, dedicating his full attention to and making Betsy feel like the most loved person in the world.   Things were simple to him.  He'd tell her, "I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go.  All I have to do is push on these pedals."  And he would, too...taking Betsy to and from school all through high school because he’d rather drive her then have her walk a mile on no sidewalks.  He was Betsy's rock.  Her everything.   

In whatever capacity you knew him, you likely loved or may even live by his "Chas-isms," “Poppyisms,” or lifelong words of wisdom including:

·         Trust no one

·         If you speed, you gotta pay the man

·         Candles burn down houses

·         If you don’t run a house, a house will run you

·         If you pay peanuts, you get monkeys

·         Nothing in moderation will hurt you

Whether you knew him by Charles, Chaz, Mr. Charlie, Dad, or Poppy, you knew him as a lover of all things food related, travel, babies, laughter, family, friends, woodworking, adventures, fishing, and camping.  He was a scale mechanic by trade, a veteran, and a family man.  He is preceded in death by his parents Edna and George Fowler, two brothers, his daughter, Cindy, and numerous friends.  He is survived by his loving wife of 66 years, Gloria, daughter Peggy, granddaughter Betsy, and countless friends and families that love him dearly.  Not only was he widely loved, he was deeply loved, and the void he leaves behind is expansive.  All of those who loved him will try to fill that void with the plethora of memories of love and laughter.  His words ring true in our heads and we will try to remember: “It’ll get better.”

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