Kyle Carlson - fighting fires and saving lives

Sometimes you know what you want to be when you grow up. Maybe you’re following in the steps of a role model. Perhaps a teacher or counselor has offered you guidance. Or maybe your inspiration comes from a favorite television show. The latter is true for Kyle Carlson.

Kyle Carlson (facing forward)

Kyle is a firefighter for the city of Olathe. “You remember that television show that was on in the 1970s, ‘Emergency’?” Kyle asked. “I got to watching it every time it came on.” He can’t exactly articulate what it was about the show that caught his attention – he was only a grade-schooler at the time. But something about watching the paramedics who worked out of the Los Angeles County Fire Department resonated with Kyle.

He became a firefighter/emergency medical technician in 1990, and works out of Station 5, near Kansas 7 and Spruce Street in Olathe. He is trained to fight all sorts of fires, work accident scenes, join in water rescues, offer medical assistance. “It’s exciting,” Kyle said. “I love my job. If I ever get hurt, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Kyle works a 24-hour shift on three out of five days, then has four days off in a row. He said that on average, his station receives five calls a day. Each day, and each call, brings an unknown. It could be a house fire, an attempted suicide, a person with chest pains, or victims needing to be extricated from wrecked vehicles. When he’s not on a call, he is checking equipment, keeping the fire station in order, and going for special training. Recently he participated in search and rescue training. “We don’t just sit there and play cards and watch TV,” Kyle said.

When a call comes in, the radio crackles to life with the voice of a computerized dispatcher announcing what and where. If it comes while the firefighters are sleeping, lights pop on. “We are supposed to be out the door in less than a minute,” Kyle said, “closer to 30 seconds if it’s a medical call.” Newer fire stations are generally built all on one level, so there are no stairs to impede, and no pole to slide down. Kyle said he usually wears his fire pants, but waits until he arrives at the scene to put on the rest of his gear. That’s because he drives the pump truck, which carries 500 gallons of water and is shorter than a ladder truck, and that extra gear is bulky when you’re trying to drive. Even though the gear is lighter than it used to be, it still weighs roughly 60 pounds.

Five trucks are dispatched to a fire scene. Kyle’s job varies depending on when he arrives. If he is first on the scene at a fire, he immediately begins pumping water. Otherwise, he might help assist hooking up hose to a fire hydrant or searching for victims.

There is an element of danger to many calls, especially those involving fires. “I had a ceiling fall on me,” Kyle said. “We went to a house fire. It was a big, big house. We stepped into what was the office, and heard a noise. The weight of the water pushed the ceiling down.” Another time, Kyle almost fell through the floor of a house that had caught on fire as it was being remodeled, but caught himself in time.

While these incidents can be harrowing, Kyle doesn’t focus on that aspect. He said his wife, Jenni, whom he met after he became a firefighter, doesn’t worry a lot either. She agreed, but said she does pay close attention to the news when she hears reports of a fire or car wreck, just to see if Kyle’s crew is involved.

Kyle has come to the rescue of more people than he can probably count, but he has seen his share of fatalities too. The worst experience for him was in 2004. “It was a house fire,” he said. “A mom, dad, and their three boys all died. Afterwards, we immediately all went for a session with the chaplain.”

A bright spot of the job is the thanks that firefighters receive from those in the community they have helped. Kyle said people stop by with brownies, or dinners. The praise is appreciated, but isn’t really necessary. “We don’t consider ourselves heroes,” Kyle said. “We’re just doing our job.”

Jack Messer - a football referee's point of view

Hey, all you armchair coaches, listen up. Jack Messer can tell you a thing or two about football.

Jack is in his 11^th year as a football referee, officiating for youth at every level from fourth grade to high school varsity. It allows him to combine his love of sports with a sense of accomplishment, and earn a few extra dollars as well.

Jack Messer

Jack said he played sports in high school, and decided to stay involved by being a baseball umpire. He umpired for the next 10 years, until his second child was born. Then the demands of family life outweighed the time required on the baseball field. Sometime after his third child entered school, he got the urge to get back out in the sports world. “I got into officiating to make a little extra money,” Jack said. “What I learned is there’s a great need for competent authority in a game. That was attractive, and I felt I could supply that.”

Because he was familiar with the grind of baseball – the long season, games that could last hours, he decided to try football. After all, football was only a nine-week season, right? “I think the time idea kind of got away from me,” Jack said, noting that he is on the field several nights a week, and spends even more hours in game preparation and travel. But, he says, his wife, Lori, is a saint about it, knowing this is something he feels called to do.

When he first began officiating, Jack said that he had to keep track of his games on a paper calendar, writing everything down. Now it’s all computerized, and he works for five schedulers and can check his assignments on-line. The other big change has been in uniforms. Referees used to wear white knickers and knee-length socks, held together with a tight band of elastic. The black pants the refs get to wear now are so much more comfortable, Jack said.

One of the greatest traits Jack brings to his job is diplomacy. “As an official,” he said, “you are the greatest authority on the field. “ Jack said that officials can be as mean as they want, play hardline rules, kick out coaches and players. But he doesn’t choose to be that sort of official.  So, just how many players has he kicked out of a game? Zero. Coaches? None. “It never got to the point where I felt that should have happened,” Jack said. Instead he uses praise, humor, maybe a little bit of yelling. “I want to make sure everyone gets a fair opportunity,” he said. “That doesn’t mean equal opportunity.”

For example, Jack said, maybe he would let a holding call go if it had nothing to do with where the ball is in play. His use of praise isn’t idle either, but rather lets players know he is watching them. He calls it preventive officiating. His goal is to follow the rules, and be as fair and competent as he can. “I want the kids to feel like they’ve been treated well,” Jack said, “and I want the coaches to feel they had the opportunity to do what they do.”

Jack said he especially enjoys officiating in games with the little kids. “They love the game, they respect you, they’re really trying,” he said.  The parents of those kids are a bit more difficult, according to Jack. “They’re a little more protective,” he said. “The parents have a different set of expectations than what the games provide.”

In fact, it was in one such game, perhaps fifth graders, Jack said, that he had to take action he had never taken before or since, and that was to kick a fan out of the game. “It was a parent or grandparent,” Jack said. “He came at me on the field, swearing and yelling. Everyone was in shock. I kept walking away, didn’t want to engage him.” Eventually the sideline coaches and police got involved and escorted the fan away.

Since some fans do a lot of negative yelling, it’s best to try to tune them out. “It’s a heated environment,” Jack said. “Officials are the only people on the field who don’t have something invested in the outcome.”

For those who like to sit in the bleachers, or at home in their chairs, and offer critiques and second guessing, Jack has this advice: “There’s a shortage of officials, so come on out. It’s really very difficult. You watch players run into each other at 10 or 15 miles an hour. Things happen very fast.”

Jack said he has never been injured, but has been knocked down, once when a 6’5” offensive tackle knocked a linebacker into him on the first play of a game. He has to be in good shape, and usually logs four miles walking and running per game. As for pay, he gets $40 for a youth game, and $75 for a varsity game. He works at least twice as many hours for varsity, so that’s actually a cut in pay. For comparison, the average pay of an NFL referee is about $173,000 a year.

Jack said officiating and his day job as Director of Planning and Development for the city of Overland Park complement each other. He uses diplomacy in both. “I have to implement rules, and I have to do it in a fair way,” Jack said of his city position, “for the residents and the developers.”

Obviously Jack doesn’t officiate for the money. And he doesn’t do it for the praise. “When you work a good game,” Jack said, “no one says a word to you. To do a great job, you’re not noticed.” And that’s as it should be, because the game is about the players. For Jack, it ‘s all for love of the game and working with youth, illustrating for them that competence and fairness matter.

Aaron Cunningham - driven to excel and share

Aaron Cunningham

Aaron Cunningham is a typical high school senior. Athletic, friendly but kind of shy, likes school and is looking forward to college. But what makes him a standout is that he is incredibly generous with his time and talent, giving to Special Olympics kids, helping at a no-kill animal shelter, delivering meals to people in their homes.

Aaron began playing tennis the summer after eighth grade. “I chose tennis because it was an individual sport that challenges you,” Aaron said. “It is a game of patience too.” Aaron plays five to six days a week, and is the captain of his high school tennis team.

The summer after his freshman year, Aaron was looking for opportunities to earn community service hours. He decided to teach tennis to Special Olympics kids, and has done so on Thursday evenings in June and July every summer since.

Besides teaching, Aaron has played in Special Olympics tournaments. The first year, he played with a young man from his school, and they won a gold medal together in a Special Olympics Doubles Tournament. For the past two years, Aaron has worked with a 24-yr-old named Kyle, who has Down Syndrome and a heart problem.

Aaron and Kyle

“Kyle is funny, smart and very kind,” Aaron said, but noted that Kyle has some trouble focusing on multiple tasks. “It has been difficult to teach him how to position his feet and watch the ball at the same time.” Nevertheless, Aaron said, Kyle is easy-going and happy to be on the court having fun.

Aaron shared a story of playing in a doubles tournament on the Plaza with Kyle this past summer. “Kyle was so excited as we waited for our turn to go out on court to play the other teams,” Aaron said. “He was very confident that we were going to win every match in which we didn’t win any matches.” Aaron teaches Kyle tennis, but Kyle teaches Aaron a little bit about life. “It is refreshing to see how people with disabilities like Kyle enjoy things that we take for granted on a daily basis,” Aaron said. “He makes you realize what is really important in this world. He is a true friend.”

Aaron has had to learn how to temper his own style of play to teach the Special Olympics kids. He said that slowing down from his natural competitive pace so that he can break down the basic tennis moves is a challenge. “I play without thinking,” Aaron said. “It is hard to stop and think about what I am doing, so that I can teach others.”

 

Besides tennis, another interest of Aaron’s is working with his family for Furry Kids Refuge, a no-kill animal shelter. They have fostered homeless pets at various times for the past seven years. Aaron and his younger sister, Casey, also go to a local pet store on Saturday mornings when they can to help with adoptions.

Aaron’s other gift of time is delivering meals during the summer for One Good Meal, a Lee’s Summit not-for-profit whose mission is to deliver hot meals to seniors and those who are homebound regardless of income.

All this is in addition to working toward an International Baccalaureate diploma. Aaron is required to take college classes in high school, earn 150 hours community service, do a community service project, write a 4000-word extended essay, and take a “Theory of Knowledge” class before school each morning for one year. “I will have approximately 40 hours college credit when I graduate from high school,” Aaron said. He plans to be a chemical engineer. He also squeezes in time to go to Kansas City Royals games and spend family time in North Myrtle Beach, S.C.

Aaron is driven by the desire to be the best he can be, but he balances that with generosity. “Giving back to others is a big part of our family life whether it is people or animals,” Aaron said. On a personal note, he added, “I get the satisfaction of doing the right thing for others while learning various life lessons from different perspectives.”

Ron Dillon - learning a new way of hearing

Ron Dillon has a pragmatic view of life. Were he to participate in a “Finding Your Strengths” study, he would probably find that adaptability was one of his top traits.

Ron Dillon

He is in the field of mergers and acquisitions, meaning he helps people buy and sell businesses. He started his own company with his son, Rick, in 1990, after trying to buy the company Rick worked for. When that merger and acquisition company wouldn’t sell, Ron said, they decided to create their own, and the Dillon Group was born.

Entering into such negotiations means that being able to hear is crucial. Ron has dealt with hearing loss since his 30s, and has been through eight or 10 pairs of hearing aids through the years. When he learned about cochlear implants, he wondered if such an implant would help him. “If I didn’t get some help, I would have to retire,” Ron said. And at age 78, he wasn’t ready to consider retirement. So, the man who was born on the same day Franklin Roosevelt took office paid a visit to a doctor at the University of Kansas Medical Center. “I went in for a test just to see if it would help me hear,” he said.

His hearing loss was in part because of genetics on his father’s side. Environmental noise might also have been a cause, Ron said, because he spent a lot of hours on a tractor when he was younger. He was also exposed to some degree of loud noise while serving in the Army Corps of Engineers in a supply depot in Pusan at the end of the Korean War. How he lost his hearing is somewhat immaterial at this point. But being able to hear conversation is significant.

A cochlear implant is an option for people who are profoundly deaf or severely hard-of-hearing, and in the past was only offered for those who had lost more than 95 percent of their hearing. The implant consists of an external portion that sits behind the ear, and a second portion that is surgically implanted under the skin. Rather than amplify sounds like a hearing aid, a cochlear device bypasses damaged portions of the ear to directly stimulate the auditory nerve. In essence, it requires learning a whole new way of hearing, of processing sounds.

Ron had the implant about 18 months ago, and is more than halfway through the typical three-year adjustment period of learning how to hear with the device. It’s a trial and error situation, with adjustments based in large part on what the person with the implant tells the technician through the testing. But it’s impossible to tell if the adjustment helps or hinders until you get back out in the world and try conversing with people in different situations. With Ron, the latest adjustment didn’t help. “I sat around a table the other night, there were four of us, and I couldn’t understand one thing they were saying,” Ron said. “There was too much of an echo with the implant.”

So Ron will visit the doctor again to enhance the latest adjustment and try for a different outcome. But he feels like he’s getting closer to where he wants to be, and has no regrets about going this route. “With hearing aids,” he said, “I would get less than 50 percent word recognition. I get in the high 80s with the cochlear.”

Ron is mostly patient during this long process. Perhaps he’s learned that art through life circumstances. He and his first wife, Sharon, had four children by birth. When their oldest child was 13, they found themselves taking in a 17-year-old boy, at the request of a family friend, who desperately needed care and love. Ron said that boy blended quite easily into their family. Then came two and three-year-old siblings, a boy and girl, who lived off and on with the Dillons over the next 20 or so years, returning to them each time things fell apart with their birth parents. Ron still keeps in contact with the siblings, though Sharon died 25 years ago from cancer. In fact, just recently Ron tried to impart some words of wisdom to his adopted daughter, when she wrote to tell him that she and her spouse were fighting constantly, mostly about money. Ron’s advice: “Next time that comes up sit down together and review your checkbook. If you find that your fighting has increased the funds in your account then by all means keep on fighting, but if it has not then you have proven that fighting did not help so stop it, put your arms around each other and pray or dance or do something to release the tension.”

After Sharon’s death, Ron didn’t remain a widower for long. Upon the advice of a friend who was entering his fifth marriage, Ron placed an ad in the “singles” section of a newspaper. But he did so in jest, stating he was a wino living in a cardboard box looking for the right person. “I just wanted to see who would answer,” Ron said. Apparently, a certain woman named Marjorie picked up on that sense of humor and responded. Ron said they knew in about three weeks that they were going to marry. They celebrated their 24th wedding anniversary in May.

Ron’s oldest son, the 17-year-old he and Sharon took in, passed away several years ago from cancer. He has also lost his youngest brother, two brothers-in-law and a sister-in-law all to cancer. But such is life. “You accept the challenges as they come along,” Ron said, which is also his attitude about his hearing loss. “And when I look back, I’ve had so many blessings.”

Ruthi Ostgulen - a fight against breast cancer

For most of us, life is routine. We follow the same daily and weekly schedules, and the days and the weeks pass. But then one day, perhaps you fall and break a leg, or your job changes, or you face an impending move. Or maybe, like Ruthi Ostgulen, you find a lump in your breast.

Ruthi Ostgulen

But a lump could be nothing, right? Ruthi hoped so, and since she had recently had a clear mammogram, thought she would just ignore it and continue on with her life.

“But then I kept hearing ‘breast cancer,’ ‘breast cancer,’ breast cancer,’” Ruthi said, referring to a sudden awareness of stories in the news and other conversation. So she decided she would visit the doctor, get some peace of mind.

The doctor’s visit led to an ultrasound, then a biopsy, then a few tense days of waiting for the results. Ruthi was back at the doctor’s office, last October 15, when he came in and said, “The bad news is it’s cancer. The good news is I think it’s small and can be treated.” That’s not the news Ruthi had expected to hear. “I was in shock,” she said. “I was always healthy, never had any issues.”

Suddenly Ruthi had to make choices without much medical knowledge, and certainly no experience.  The first decision was whether to have a lumpectomy or mastectomy. Prayer and reflection led her to opt for the lumpectomy. That went well, she thought. But then came the pathology report, showing more cancerous tissue. Once again, she had a choice to make. Further lumpectomy, single or double mastectomy?  “There are all these huge decisions you have to make in a short amount of time,” Ruthi said. “But how do you make that decision?” For her, each decision could mean life or death, and a drastic physical change.  

Ruthi spoke to a young mom at Holy Cross who had just been through this. Afterwards, and after more prayer and reflection, she felt confident that a double mastectomy was the way to go.  She had surgery after Thanksgiving, and again thought it went okay. Ruthi said the doctor used a super glue, so that she didn’t have big staples, or even a wrapping of bandages.

Because Ruthi’s diagnosis was a fast-growing cancer which had spread to the lymph nodes, she had more treatment to endure. Chemotherapy started January 4, once a week for 16 weeks, about three hours of her day. She took anti-nausea medicine, but still needed a long weekend to recover and get her strength back before returning to work on Monday. A side effect, she knew, would be hair loss, including eyebrows and eyelashes. “My hair started coming out in clumps,” she said. So she decided to shave her head.

All along, Ruthi had the support of her husband and a friend/neighbor who she describes as wonderful, along with family, friends and co-workers. Meals, cards, conversations, shared tears, weekly chemo goodie bags. But for the head shaving, she was joined on her front porch by her husband, son Erik and a close friend, all of whom shaved their heads with her. Her son in El Dorado and brother-in-law in Albuquerque, New Mexico, also shaved their heads that day long distance.

When Ruthi’s chemo treatments ended, radiation began. Five days a week for six weeks. “My skin peeled, like a sunburn,” Ruthi said. But finally came the July day when treatment ended, and Ruthi could start trying to return to a semblance of what her life had been, before she got caught up in the whirlwind of a cancer diagnosis. Sadly, too, during this time, she had to deal with the tragic death of her brother in a plane crash.

“Looking back, this seems like a bad dream,” Ruthi said. “But then I look in the mirror.” Her hair is growing back in, a salt and pepper look, and maybe she’ll decide to color it, and maybe she won’t. Reconstructive surgery, she says, seems unnecessary right now, especially since it would mean having to endure more time in a hospital, recovery and rehabilitation. 
Those things aren’t a priority for her. But she knows what is. “I want to spend more time with my kids (five of them) and grandkids (10 of those),” she said. “I want to do things again to help others.”

Ruthi is participating in a clinical trial through the University of Kansas Medical Center, where her weeks of treatment will be studied and compared. She faces five years of visits with her oncologist and ten years of follow-up with the clinical trial. She would be more than willing to offer advice and share her experience with someone else newly diagnosed with breast cancer.

And then there’s her faith. Ruthi has become intimately acquainted with God through the ordeal of this past year. “You cry, ‘where are you, God,’ and then you see he’s right here,” she said, explaining how each day’s devotion was exactly what she needed that moment, or the hug of a friend brought comfort, or another card in the mail let her know she was on someone’s mind. “I felt God though this a lot.” And that’s what she would want someone else to know, “God is there, and He will get you through it.”

Bill Allen - learning to fly

Say you are 60-something and retired. What might you do with your time? When Bill Allen found himself in that position, he went to Johnson County’s Executive Airport and asked about flying a plane. “They said why not take a lesson,” Bill said. And that’s just what he did.



Bill Allen

Bill got his license a year and a half ago, and has been having a great time taking to the skies. He and his wife, Mary, recently flew to Paola, parked the airplane, walked over to a barbecue joint, ate, and flew back home.

Bill is a private pilot, and flies VFR (visual flight rules.) That means he can’t fly through clouds, using instruments to guide him. He must be able to physically see the sky and surroundings when flying. “I’m a fair weather flyer,” he explained.  “I always have to be alert.”

Flying lessons involved a number of requirements. A minimum of 40 hours flight training is necessary, which includes 20 hours of dual instruction and 10 hours of solo flight. Then comes a written test of 60 multiple choice questions, and a practical flight test with an FAA-designated examiner. For Bill, training included flying solo to Topeka and Emporia in Kansas; and Lake of the Ozarks and Columbia in Missouri, making numerous landings and take-offs. He had to practice landing at night too.

“I get nervous taking any test,” Bill said, so you might be able to imagine his discomfiture flying with the FAA representative. “I had to fly in a circle without losing altitude,” Bill said. “I had to purposely stall the plane and then recover. The FAA representative pulled the throttle and would say, ‘Uh oh, engine failure,’ and I had to simulate a landing.”

The written test included questions such as, “What is Class B airspace?” and “What are the minimum flying conditions for VFR?”

Though the tests are behind him now, Bill still has requirements before getting in the pilot’s seat. For example, he has to get a weather briefing before flying. And he can’t fly at night unless he has had three night landings in the previous 90 days. But it’s not the landing that is of greatest concern, Bill said. “Taking off is the most risky and critical part of the flight,” he said.

Bill is a CPA by trade and was a partner in a national CPA firm. He was the CFO at Bethany College in Lindsborg, and CFO for Mennonite Housing in Wichita. The latter involved building houses and making repairs for the elderly and low-income. Bill also was a co-owner of a company that built furniture for all the Cessna’s private jets, and for Air Force I. The company employed 500 people, and generally built tables and entertainment centers.

He always had an interest in airplanes, though never felt compelled to pursue that interest. “It was just a wild hair,” he said about deciding to get a pilot’s license.

Though he flies for fun, Bill looks for ways to serve others. He applied to help with Honor Flights as a guardian. Honor Flights is a program that takes veterans to see the World War II memorial in Washington, D.C., something many had given up on ever seeing because of financial and physical constraints. A couple of weeks ago, Bill helped with the Challenge Air program, whose purpose is to give airplane rides to children with special needs. “There were about 20 planes there to give rides to over 120 kids,” Bill said. “I helped load the kids and their guardians into the airplanes. It was a fun event and great to see the smiles on the kid's faces.”

Bill also spends each Monday at St. Joseph Hospital, transporting patients within the hospital, and supports a variety of efforts through the Metro Lutheran Ministry.

He recently joined the Holy Cross men’s cycling group for a ride, and thought he would ride with them again. But as for flying? “It’s something I like to do,” Bill said. “I don’t play golf. I don’t have a lot of hobbies.”

Bill & Doris Warrick - carving out retirement

Bill & Doris Warrick with their largest gnome

Bill and Doris Warrick have spent the last 30 years carving out a life of retirement together. Literally. Bill took up woodcarving, specializing in gnomes and occupational figures. Doris paints the pieces after they’re carved.

Bill designed a series of gnomes to reflect each of the 12 months. So you might see a gnome with a heart in February, a flag-bearing gnome in July, or a Saint Nicholas gnome in December. Besides gnomes, Bill has turned blocks of linden wood into such things as doctors, priests, farmers and firemen. He said he likes to start with the head because that’s the most detailed. Otherwise, Bill explained, you could carve the whole thing and then mess up with the head, and have to start all over.

Before turning to woodcarving, Bill kept busy as a process and tool engineer with John Deere, where he worked 35 years. “I determined how to make farm equipment,” he said, a simplified statement for figuring out form, function and materials. He retired in the early 1980s, and started teaching himself how to carve wood after serendipitously attending a Woodcarvers Club. Doris, who said, “I never knew I had a talent,” began painting the pieces. She has continued to paint, using the medium of acrylics to paint beautiful landscapes.

Bill said when he was young he did some whittling. Then as a Boy Scout, he was encouraged by his scoutmaster to be self-sufficient. That included learning how to carve a spoon out of a stick so he could eat while on a hike. He bought his first wood-carving set on a trip to Switzerland in 1976, though he stuck it in a drawer and forgot about it upon returning home. It would be some years later before he made use of those tools.

Eventually, Bill and Doris were traveling the country, selling their carvings in a variety of art shows. They also accepted commissions to make special pieces, such as a football player, arm raised to pass the ball, a carpenter with a tool box, and a dentist with a toothbrush. They didn’t accept payment up front, and surprisingly were only stiffed financially once. “A lady came to the booth and said she wanted a commissioned piece,” Doris said, “so we sent it to her but she never paid for it. Then a few years later, I saw a woman standing by our booth, just standing there, and I wondered why.” Unbelievably, it was that same woman, who was now offering her long overdue payment.

Bill and Doris celebrated their 68^th wedding anniversary on Sept. 1. That’s a lot of time to spend with someone. “What amazes me is that we never got on each other’s nerves,” Bill said, a rather unassuming declaration of love. Doris simply attributes it to living a good life, and working through problems as they arose.

Bill and Doris met at a United Service Organizations dance when Bill was a Navy cadet stationed in Ottumwa, Iowa, during World War II. “Boys were lined up on one side, the girls on the other,” Bill said. “I picked her out across the room.” That first dance led to Bill hitchhiking 700 miles roundtrip every two to three months to see Doris. She explained that’s just what you did back then, along with writing letters, when you didn’t have a car and telephones were too expensive. They married a year later and settled in Iowa.

Bill and Doris have a son and daughter, seven grandchildren, seven great-grandchildren and one great-great grandchild, spread across the country. Their daughter lives in this area, which is what brought them here a few years ago. Their apartment is filled with memorabilia, like Bill’s goggles and headgear from his time as a Navy pilot, shelves of their woodcarvings, and many of Doris’ paintings. All in all, a reflection of a life well lived.