Bowman - Lorie Ann.

January 1, 1971 - December 12, 2005

Lorie Ann Bowman passed away unexpectedly Dec 12, 2005. Left to cherish her memory is her husband of 10 years Sandy, her children Taylor and Riley, her parents Beulah and Reuben, her sister Cindy (Leon) her nieces Nicole, Amber and Kelsey, her nephews Joshua and Mitchel. Lovingly remembered by mother-in-law Lorraine, father-in-law Francis, brother-in-laws, David (Raylene) and Ricky (Lynn), also many uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews, cousins and friends.
Viewing and visitation will be held on Friday, December 16 from 7pm - 9pm in St. Pauls Catholic Church- Signal Road. Funeral Services will be held on Saturday, December 17 at 11am in the same church. Rev Fraser Lawton of the Anglican Church will officiate. Cremation will follow. In lieu of flowers, donations in Lorie’s name, to the Canadian Cancer Society, Breast Cancer Research Division would be deeply appreciated.


Lorie was the teacher's pet and my best friend. I simultaneously despised her and adored her. She had straight white teeth, long blonde hair and bright blue eyes - imagine Barbie as a little girl and you have Lorie. Her birthday was New Year's Day. She was adopted and once brought her baby blanket in for Show and Tell, telling the class it was the only thing she had from her real mother. I don't think she could have been any cooler to us kids had she been related to the Fonz. She was, in our little world, the Golden Child.

It was 1979. Grade three. We didn't get to sit together in class (her desk was pushed up against the teacher's - Ms. Selin had no trouble openly favouring her) but we were pretty inseperable during recess. Autumn, we played on the monkey bars; Winter, we huddled together in the corner outside the portables for the whole 15 minutes, hoping it would drop the extra two degrees to be below -20C at lunch so we wouldn't have to come outside for the entire half-hour break; Spring, we teamed up and out double-dutched everyone at skipping rope, and we always warned each other when someone (usually Chance or Peter) was around, looking to grab all our marbles to throw into the field, screaming "Scramble!!"

We played at each other's house occasionally and she would teach me all the stuff she was learning in gymnastics and I would tell her what I had learned at Brownies. The first time I ever had sloppy joe's was at her house. We pooled our allowances and at the end of the year, bought Ms. Selin a nice macrame plant hanger (it was orange - I did say it was the 70's, right? - and it came with a nice little spider plant. Money went a little further back then).

We were never in the same class again and so we might as well have been in different universes. I don't know that we even spoke after that summer. In grade 7 she went to a different school altogether and since that time, I think I only saw her once, at a community fair. That would have been in the mid 80's. It was a glimpse across a parking lot and I don't think she saw me. She was still the epitome of pretty though, as two boys stopped doing their BMX tricks to watch her walk by.

I want to tell you I hadn't thought about her in years, but as fate would have it, just two weeks ago I was asking my best friend (who also grew up here) if she knew Lorie or had ever heard of her; she hadn't. Later that week, my mom asked me if I had heard about the accident that had happened at the YMCA.. a lady had just picked up her two kids from a Tai Kwon Do class there and slipped outside, cracking her skull on the ground. She died a little bit later.

"What a sin!" I said. So close to the holidays, with two little kids who saw it all happen. Tragedy.

Then I went on to bitch about whatever it was I was bitching about that day.

I only found out it was Lorie two days ago and I haven't been able to stop thinking about her. Why had I asked my friend just recently if she knew her? Because Lorie is still my ideal of perfect. I realize I'm only recalling the memories made as a kid and she may have become an entirely different type of person other than the kind, slightly shy little girl she was, but I guess 'perfect' is just something that stays with you. Kind of like your first imaginings of Santa or of God.

I feel a little ridiculous mourning someone I haven't known for 25 years. I think I feel guilty for being jealous of her when I was 8. I think I feel guilty for wondering how the Golden Child could have died at the young age of 34 because I'm about to turn that same age and I've been wondering how I got so old. I think I'm feeling guilty for always having wanted to be her.