I sit here tears in my eyes reading all the wonderful rememberances of my dear friend, Jim Howell. He was my second supervising physician, at WSTS. My mentor. Close friend. I helped him build Jim's mistress as chief rivitor. Spent holidays with the family. Skiied in Utah. Got bitten by the family's pet racoon. Ti quan do. Remember he and Maureen's wedding and her dream the night before, still have that old Chevy PU. My condolances to Maureen, Gwen, Luke, Piper, Gabriel, and Lucas. I'll dearly miss my friend. (they'll be shocked to know I sent this myself)

As Sheridan High Classmates of Jim Howell's, Dixie and I also want to extend our sympathies to Jim's loved ones. With our 45th class reunion currently under development for this July, losing our class president will have a substantial impact on that event.

I first met Jimmy Howell as a high school freshman. I came from an 8 year rural school where I had spent my 8th grade math class as a self-taught algebra student. I was given an instructor's algebra book and sent to the library during math where I completed daily assignments to submit to our class teacher. The first discovery I made in that endeavor was that the answers to the problems were provided in the back pages of the text. Obviously, my math abilities were glowingly passed on to the high school faculty and when I was mainstreamed into the next level I found myself in a class with the best and brightest of the kids from the big city who had all had a full year of algebra instruction using text books without the answers in the back. I never did catch up in the 4 years I spent with this group and Jimmy Howell, just as in all the other subjects i experienced under his intellectual shadow, wiped out any slight possibility I might have for a decent grade even when the instructor would "grade on a curve". Jim's distance from the remainder of the class on the exam scores was about the same spacing I had from the rest of the class on the other end of the spectrum. Curving helped zilch.

But Jim's scholastic abilities were just a small part of his contributions to the Class of 1964. The extreme degree of ingenuity he provided for some of the extracurricular pranks that "happened" over those 4 fondly remembered years left faculty and law enforcement members baffled to this very day and members of the class still have a sense of pride for some of those feats just for "being in the know".

Jim was, very likely, the best class president in the history of Sheridan High School. A sincerely caring individual who, even then, had an interest and concern for the well being of his peers and of all his academic efforts and career choices it is very fitting that he ultimately became the caregiver he evidently excelled at. It would be most gratifying if we could have more leaders like him today. I'm just sorry I never had an opportunity to spend time with Jim following the high school years but I hope your family can find comfort in the glowing remarks that I've read on this site, none of which are surprising but, rather extremely fitting the man, Jim Howell.

Our thoughts are with you all.

Dr Howell was our family doctor for many years and we often talked about flying and the airplane he seemed to be always building. A great listener, calm, caring... I didn't know he studied medicine as his second career choice. As I helped several friends through their children's births and also sat with other friends who were seriously ill and near death, Dr Howell seemed to be the doctor who attended both the transitions in and out of life in our community. At births, he was always delighted to announce "Your baby is perfect" with a happy smile. At the bedside of the dying, he was kind, compassionate, patient and concerned about making the person as comfortable as possible to the end. He made time for all of us and put us at ease with our worries. I am ever grateful for his care and thankful for the time he and his family gave to Lander.

When I began work in 1985 at the Wyoming State Training School (WSTS) in Lander, WY Jim and his family were living on the WSTS campus. I worked with Jim in the Health Care Center (HCC). He was a fine physician and loved by all of us. I worked in the records department and my father was the Pharmacist at that time. I remember my Dad telling me before I came to WSTS about the "smartest doctor" he had ever known that he had the privilege of working with - I found his story to be so true. With our difficult medical population, Jim always knew the best treatment plan!

Dr. Howell was a fine father to his children and always had stories to share of their achievements in their lives!

Jim would take several of us over to see the plane he was building in his garage - I was always fascinated at his passion and skill for building his own plane - and inside a double garage, no less!

My favorite memory is a picture that he drew me for my 39th birthday - I am now 60! I will always treasure this drawing. It is a "Happy Birthday from the President" card drawn by Jim.
It is a caricature drawing of several of us in the clinic area of the HCC - we are all wearing "pocket proctectors" - Jim always had his pocket proctector in his shirt pockets! At the base of the picture, he wrote "President of N.O.A. (Nerds of America) and the rest of the gang."

I worked every day for years with Jim - he was a fascinating individual and certainly one who was missed when he began his new position at the Lander Medical Clinic. He will be fondly remembered in my heart - much love to Jim's children, Gwen, Lucas, and Piper - your Dad was great! I enjoyed watching you three children grow up!

Hola
Les envío un abraso muy grande y todo nuestro amor
Lamento mucho no poder escribir en ingles ,Judd puede traducir para ustedes.
quiero compartir con ustedes una historia que destaca su calma y su
capacidad de elevarse por sobre las situaciones .
Cuando Lucas y Hossai se casaron , Maureen y Jim viajaron a Tucson ,
la fiesta fue en la sucursal de NOLS , la encargada del coctel y la
torta era yo , Y tu papa durante el día anterior a la boda y el día de
la boda se dedico ha hacer un gráfico para calcular cual seria el pick
de la boda , iba registrando todos esto hechos mientras doblaba
servilletas casi como un origami japonés en forma de cisne . Y
después nos sentó para compartirlo y reirnos , el Pick fue cuando
Hossae perdió su sita de la peluquería y ella salió tan rápido de la
casa que se llevo el auto con todos los ingredientes para el coctel
así que comenzó la histeria llamando a la Hossai para que vuelva y
ella tratando de encontrar una nueva sita para la peluquería,
recorriendo Tucson; al mismo tiempo Moureen que acompañaba ha Hossae
iba dando reportes telefónicos si llegarían a tiempo o no para la
boda.

Sami cuando volvió de Lander llego contandome sobre lo bien que lo
había pasado con su abuelito Jim armando Legos , le enseñó
metódicamente como armar los aviones con el catalogo , fue increíble.

Translation:
I send you all a huge hug and all of our Love from Chile. I'm sorry I cant write in English but Judd can translate. I want to share a story with all of you that highlights Jim's calm demeanor and his ability to rise above any situation. When Lucas and Hossai got married, Jim and Maureen flew to Tucson for the ceremony. It took place at NOLS Southwest Branch, and I was in charge of the cocktail party and the cake. And the day before the wedding your father dedicated some time to creating a flow chart to map the events of the big day. On the wedding day Jim's job was to fold the napkins. So chaos began to ensue when Hossai lost her appointment with the hair stylist and immediately took off in the car to find another stylist. Unfortunately all of the ingredients for the Cocktail party where in the car!! I was hysterical trying to call Hossai so she would bring things back and Maureen who went with Hossai was calling Jim with updates as they broke every traffic law in Tucson looking for another stylist. So as he meticulously folded napkins in the origami form of a swan he would carefully register the days events on his chart which was posted in the kitchen. At the end of the day he sat down with everyone and went over the chart. They stylist incident turned out to be the peak of the day's events. We all laughed and reflected on what ended up being a very special wedding for all of us.

When my son Sam returned from the US last summer, he talked about how much fun he had putting together LEGO's with his grandpa. Jim taught him how to meticulously put together the pieces by using the directions. It was incredible.

I was so surprised and shocked to hear of Jimmy Howell's death. With the death of Joel Troxler a few weeks ago, and now Jimmy, it makes one look at our mortality. Like Cheryl Kimble, I didn't know Jim real well, we had a few classes together in high school. But, when I think of Jimmy Howell, I visualize button down shirt, levis, sleeves rolled up and carrying books on his hip. I also think of him as the "smartest kid in our class." But when I read all of the tributes, what a great guy he was. You are in my prayers.

Liz Gale

I worked with Dr. Howell at the Lander Medical Clinic and had the pleasure or hearing his stories, words of wisdom--and humor! He always had lots of tales to tell and information to share and was a truly kind person. One of my most vivid memories was of a Halloween when Dr. Howell dressed up as a Ninja and lurked in his office outside the employee lounge area waiting for unsuspecting employees to pass by and jump out and startle them. Apparently he had done this several times when I came wandering by, but my reaction by all accounts was the most spectacular of all as I screamed and literally jumped clear into an exam room down the hall. As soon as I got my heart started again it was quite funny. However, the next day I received a rose bowl and note of apology from Dr. Howell for scaring me so completely.

Another story that comes up still in conversation refers to Piper calling her dad and it was always "very, very, very" important. Each time she called until she actually talked to him required the addition of another "very". He always just smiled and called her to solve the latest "very" important crisis.

Our prayers are with all of you fortunate enough to have had Dr. Howell in your lives. He will be sorely missed.

I was getting ready to go sky diving. I was nervous.

Who does a 20-yr-old girl call when she needs motivation to jump out of a plane?

Dad, of course!

I called Dad and began to relay my fears… “what if the chute doesn’t open?” “what if the harness doesn’t work” what if, what if, what if…even worse, what if I have paid this money and go to the airport and CHICKEN OUT?

Dad, in his ever-so-cool, ever-so-calm, “I’m going to talk my daughter into skydiving if that’s what she wants to do” way, said

“You know honey, if you can just make it to the airport, you’re going”

That didn’t resonate with me at the time, like it has since then, but I have often found myself thinking those words in challenging times and always get a good laugh, and press on.

I did make it to the airport, and I went.

Dad, now it’s your turn.

I also just wanted to say that I have loved all of the stories you have shared. They have made me, laugh, cry, laugh some more. It has been the perfect way to honor Dad.

I started to write some comments earlier because there are only a few to tell about the early years of Jim’s life, but it became difficult to continue with my eyes brimming with tears. Maybe it is a little foolish for an old man, but I do weep. I weep for Jim because he had a wonderful life and shared it unconditionally with others. There simply has not been enough time to repay him for his friendship and brotherhood.

I weep for Maureen and their children (of course all men and women now) because I understand their unbearable grief. I weep for Janey and Billie, Jim’s sisters, because like Jim they were also part of my adopted family and I would not have them hurt.

Most of all, I weep as a mortal man who has come to realize that with the death of his friend of more than fifty years, a door has closed on the life and love we shared. Forever no more will we hunt, walk in the mountains, drink Tennessee whiskey, laugh about framastats, or discuss the mysteries of the universe. The silence will be profound and perhaps, more than can be endured.

It has been said that one of God’s rarest creations is a good friend. I believe this. Looking back, Jim and I met in Sunday school in Sheridan, Wyoming sometime in 1952. We didn’t run together much then because he went to Taylor school and I went to Linden. In those days there was a rivalry, but on Sundays Jim and I pretty much accepted each other. Later, in Jr. High school we were in the same classes.

We were part of a new experiment in the Sheridan school district. During the 6th grade all the kids were tested and the ones who scored pretty high were thrown in the same classes. My place in the class was probably a mistake. I wasn’t terribly bright, but I damn sure was crafty enough to figure out that Jim was the smartest kid in that class if not the whole town and that he could help me keep from embarrassing myself.

As you all know, Jim was all the things that Lucas has listed with Jim’s photograph: engineer, doctor husband, father, brother, and veteran, but Jim was at least two things more: He was a teacher and he was a friend. When I figured out that Jim could explain math better than our teachers---well, we became good friends.

Friendship requires trust and reciprocity. Jim fulfilled his obligations by teaching and counseling me. I will describe my responsibilities later. He helped me with math, enough so that I also was able to eventually earn several degrees. He also taught me to fly. These things were deliberate on his part. Inadvertently though, Jim also taught me patience and how to be a better man through gentleness and tact. I always had problems with those parts. I think I became a better man by watching the man he was.

Perhaps, Jim’s greatest gift to me was his trust. He trusted me with his whole family. I came from what is now known as a dysfunctional family. Jim knew this and brought me home to the peace and stability of his family; his father Bernard, his mother Vivian, and his sisters Billie and Janey. (Yeah, I know, Janey. You call yourself Jane now and you are all grown up into a beautiful woman, but to me you will always be Janey, the skinny little kid who was a card sharp.)

During our high school days, when I was not in class, I was at the Howell home. Vivian baked cinnamon rolls for us regularly. Those rolls became a highlight of our life. In the Howell household there was genuine unconditional acceptance and I came to love them all as though they were my own blood. You see, Jim became more than a friend, he became my brother and his family was my family.

In today’s terms, Jim was a geek when we were in high school. He was a little out of touch with the real world. There seems to be two types of learning in this world, institutional and the real world. Jim had the books and the formal training cold. He was so far ahead of the rest of us sometimes we were completely awestruck. There is a clear memory of one morning when we went to pick Jim to go cruising and he would not come out because he was busy teaching himself to write Russian. But we were persistent, and eventually, and regularly, we coerced him out to travel main street and other nefarious routes of corruption. We believed that all geeks needed basic training. We stole whiskey, cigars, and cigarettes and anything else that would assist in our debauchery.

It was in this underbelly of the town that I and a few others were Jim’s mentors. That is where our friendship became reciprocal. My world was on the lower side of things. Some considered me to be the neighborhood outlaw. That being the case, it is understood that fighting was a prerequisite. Beginning in Jr. High, other boys learned, some the hard way, not to mess with Jim because we had his back, his front and both sides. Despite his awkwardness and his seeming frailty, Jim never had to endure a bully.

Jim’s apparent frailty was an illusion. He was no coward and had an endurance and toughness that often amazed me. When some of us backpacked in the mountains he was packing 50-70lbs just like everyone else. He never complained. Later, Jim took up karate and I used to kid him about that. By then he had gotten into pretty good shape and I had gone the other way. The odds were he could have kicked my butt. I was not worried, though. In a half century, I never saw him deliberately hurt anyone.

Girls were always a problem. While they all liked Jim, “as a friend,” it was a little tough getting him settled in with the “right” one. But eventually we managed. The details of that escapade will have to be another story, another time. Anyway, after that, Jim’s love life never needed any help from us. Maureen is ample testimony to that fact. .

We played a lot of poker, designed and built bombs with everything from nitro-cellulose to napalm, and stole most of the road signs in southern Montana. We were fully armed with shotguns, pistols, and rifles most of the time. By today’s standards we were terrorists. Later, looking back as adults, we agreed that some of the things we did were a little shameful, but no one was ever harmed.

Despite our attempts to steer Jim into a life of crime, he managed to guide not just me, but others to a credible educational record and everyone who was close to Jim went to college. It was probably because he set the pace.

While Jim and I were close, credit should be given to his other friends. He had many. In point of fact, he was the president of the class of 1964. The whole class respected his intellect. They also inherently recognized that Jim was more than just smart. He was on a whole different and very special level.

Ours was a good arrangement. We educated each other and protected each other. We each knew the other’s secrets. Ours was the most perfect, idyllic childhood anyone could ever wish for. We grew up and at the end of high school we went out and became adults. Jim went to California and Caltech on scholarship, the first Sheridan kid to achieve that. I went off to Oregon. During summer breaks we saw each other, but we each were very busy and spent little time together.

After college, I did not see Jim until his return from Viet Nam. That was a tough time. Much of what Jim related to me about his experiences during that war will never be shared. The exchange between us was simply too deep and personal. We spent many hours talking together and it was the only time I ever saw him cry. He had to make some really tough choices then. Some may have whined about it, but Jim was strong and he did what he had to do.

Through the 1970’s and early 1980’s Jim went several directions while he sought to make peace with the demons that came home with him from Viet Nam. He learned to fly. As usual he did more than just fly. He became instrument rated, became an instructor, and got a ticket for multi-engines. From there Jim jumped to electrical engineering and earned a master’s degree from the University of Wyoming.

At that point most men would have taken a nice fat engineer’s job in a big corporation. Not Jim. He took a common electrician’s job at one of the mines in Gillette. I never knew why and he never explained. Eventually, he moved on to Salt Lake and worked for Varian on some of the more sophisticated electronic diagnostic equipment. That was a pretty good job and Jim seemed to like it. I liked it to because he was living close enough to my family in Green River that we were able to visit more frequently.

Nevertheless, he surprised me again. One day he called me and asked if I thought he was too old to become a physician. The answer to that was pretty obvious. I have never met a man I considered more suited to be a healer. I told him so and I also told him it should not matter to him or anyone else how old he was. The arrangement for admission and the search for money were complicated, but somehow it was accomplished and in four years Jim became a medical doctor.

These were the early years. Most of you will know far more about Jim over the next 25 years or so. We spoke once or twice a year and Janet and I came to visit when Jim and Maureen were married. I participated in the wedding as the best man and had the opportunity to kiss the bride. I clearly remember that and the fact that I had never seen so many damned kids in one place.

Over the years Maureen and Jim have tried to help me keep track of all the kids and their achievements, but I admit to ceaseless confusion. One thing was crystal clear and that was the pride that emanated from his very being when he talked about them. It made no difference whether it was Lucas, Luke, Gwen, Piper, Gabe or Judd. I wonder who I have left out??? Anyway, we knew Jim was a proud papa.

Jim did not originate his character and abilities, but he went a long way perfecting them. His parents, Bernard and Vivian were the original examples. They not only raised Jim and his sisters but helped immeasurably in the successful upbringing of several other kids in our town. They set the direction and lit the light we all followed.

Every man dies. Not every man lives. Jim lived--- and it was my privilege to know him.

I started to write some comments earlier because there are only a few to tell about the early years of Jim’s life, but it became difficult to continue with my eyes brimming with tears. Maybe it is a little foolish for an old man, but I do weep. I weep for Jim because he had a wonderful life and shared it unconditionally with others. There simply has not been enough time to repay him for his friendship and brotherhood.

I weep for Maureen and their children (of course all men and women now) because I understand their unbearable grief. I weep for Janey and Billie, Jim’s sisters, because like Jim they were also part of my adopted family and I would not have them hurt.

Most of all, I weep as a mortal man who has come to realize that with the death of his friend of more than fifty years, a door has closed on the life and love we shared. Forever no more will we hunt, walk in the mountains, drink Tennessee whiskey, laugh about framastats, or discuss the mysteries of the universe. The silence will be profound and perhaps, more than can be endured.

It has been said that one of God’s rarest creations is a good friend. I believe this. Looking back, Jim and I met in Sunday school in Sheridan, Wyoming sometime in 1952. We didn’t run together much then because he went to Taylor school and I went to Linden. In those days there was a rivalry, but on Sundays Jim and I pretty much accepted each other. Later, in Jr. High school we were in the same classes.

We were part of a new experiment in the Sheridan school district. During the 6th grade all the kids were tested and the ones who scored pretty high were thrown in the same classes. My place in the class was probably a mistake. I wasn’t terribly bright, but I damn sure was crafty enough to figure out that Jim was the smartest kid in that class if not the whole town and that he could help me keep from embarrassing myself.

As you all know, Jim was all the things that Lucas has listed with Jim’s photograph: engineer, doctor husband, father, brother, and veteran, but Jim was at least two things more: He was a teacher and he was a friend. When I figured out that Jim could explain math better than our teachers---well, we became good friends.

Friendship requires trust and reciprocity. Jim fulfilled his obligations by teaching and counseling me. I will describe my responsibilities later. He helped me with math, enough so that I also was able to eventually earn several degrees. He also taught me to fly. These things were deliberate on his part. Inadvertently though, Jim also taught me patience and how to be a better man through gentleness and tact. I always had problems with those parts. I think I became a better man by watching the man he was.

Perhaps, Jim’s greatest gift to me was his trust. He trusted me with his whole family. I came from what is now known as a dysfunctional family. Jim knew this and brought me home to the peace and stability of his family; his father Bernard, his mother Vivian, and his sisters Billie and Janey. (Yeah, I know, Janey. You call yourself Jane now and you are all grown up into a beautiful woman, but to me you will always be Janey, the skinny little kid who was a card sharp.)

During our high school days, when I was not in class, I was at the Howell home. Vivian baked cinnamon rolls for us regularly. Those rolls became a highlight of our life. In the Howell household there was genuine unconditional acceptance and I came to love them all as though they were my own blood. You see, Jim became more than a friend, he became my brother and his family was my family.

In today’s terms, Jim was a geek when we were in high school. He was a little out of touch with the real world. There seems to be two types of learning in this world, institutional and the real world. Jim had the books and the formal training cold. He was so far ahead of the rest of us sometimes we were completely awestruck. There is a clear memory of one morning when we went to pick Jim to go cruising and he would not come out because he was busy teaching himself to write Russian. But we were persistent, and eventually, and regularly, we coerced him out to travel main street and other nefarious routes of corruption. We believed that all geeks needed basic training. We stole whiskey, cigars, and cigarettes and anything else that would assist in our debauchery.

It was in this underbelly of the town that I and a few others were Jim’s mentors. That is where our friendship became reciprocal. My world was on the lower side of things. Some considered me to be the neighborhood outlaw. That being the case, it is understood that fighting was a prerequisite. Beginning in Jr. High, other boys learned, some the hard way, not to mess with Jim because we had his back, his front and both sides. Despite his awkwardness and his seeming frailty, Jim never had to endure a bully.

Jim’s apparent frailty was an illusion. He was no coward and had an endurance and toughness that often amazed me. When some of us backpacked in the mountains he was packing 50-70lbs just like everyone else. He never complained. Later, Jim took up karate and I used to kid him about that. By then he had gotten into pretty good shape and I had gone the other way. The odds were he could have kicked my butt. I was not worried, though. In a half century, I never saw him deliberately hurt anyone.

Girls were always a problem. While they all liked Jim, “as a friend,” it was a little tough getting him settled in with the “right” one. But eventually we managed. The details of that escapade will have to be another story, another time. Anyway, after that, Jim’s love life never needed any help from us. Maureen is ample testimony to that fact. .

We played a lot of poker, designed and built bombs with everything from nitro-cellulose to napalm, and stole most of the road signs in southern Montana. We were fully armed with shotguns, pistols, and rifles most of the time. By today’s standards we were terrorists. Later, looking back as adults, we agreed that some of the things we did were a little shameful, but no one was ever harmed.

Despite our attempts to steer Jim into a life of crime, he managed to guide not just me, but others to a credible educational record and everyone who was close to Jim went to college. It was probably because he set the pace.

While Jim and I were close, credit should be given to his other friends. He had many. In point of fact, he was the president of the class of 1964. The whole class respected his intellect. They also inherently recognized that Jim was more than just smart. He was on a whole different and very special level.

Ours was a good arrangement. We educated each other and protected each other. We each knew the other’s secrets. Ours was the most perfect, idyllic childhood anyone could ever wish for. We grew up and at the end of high school we went out and became adults. Jim went to California and Caltech on scholarship, the first Sheridan kid to achieve that. I went off to Oregon. During summer breaks we saw each other, but we each were very busy and spent little time together.

After college, I did not see Jim until his return from Viet Nam. That was a tough time. Much of what Jim related to me about his experiences during that war will never be shared. The exchange between us was simply too deep and personal. We spent many hours talking together and it was the only time I ever saw him cry. He had to make some really tough choices then. Some may have whined about it, but Jim was strong and he did what he had to do.

Through the 1970’s and early 1980’s Jim went several directions while he sought to make peace with the demons that came home with him from Viet Nam. He learned to fly. As usual he did more than just fly. He became instrument rated, became an instructor, and got a ticket for multi-engines. From there Jim jumped to electrical engineering and earned a master’s degree from the University of Wyoming.

At that point most men would have taken a nice fat engineer’s job in a big corporation. Not Jim. He took a common electrician’s job at one of the mines in Gillette. I never knew why and he never explained. Eventually, he moved on to Salt Lake and worked for Varian on some of the more sophisticated electronic diagnostic equipment. That was a pretty good job and Jim seemed to like it. I liked it to because he was living close enough to my family in Green River that we were able to visit more frequently.

Nevertheless, he surprised me again. One day he called me and asked if I thought he was too old to become a physician. The answer to that was pretty obvious. I have never met a man I considered more suited to be a healer. I told him so and I also told him it should not matter to him or anyone else how old he was. The arrangement for admission and the search for money were complicated, but somehow it was accomplished and in four years Jim became a medical doctor.

These were the early years. Most of you will know far more about Jim over the next 25 years or so. We spoke once or twice a year and Janet and I came to visit when Jim and Maureen were married. I participated in the wedding as the best man and had the opportunity to kiss the bride. I clearly remember that and the fact that I had never seen so many damned kids in one place.

Over the years Maureen and Jim have tried to help me keep track of all the kids and their achievements, but I admit to ceaseless confusion. One thing was crystal clear and that was the pride that emanated from his very being when he talked about them. It made no difference whether it was Lucas, Luke, Gwen, Piper, Gabe or Judd. I wonder who I have left out??? Anyway, we knew Jim was a proud papa.

Jim did not originate his character and abilities, but he went a long way perfecting them. His parents, Bernard and Vivian were the original examples. They not only raised Jim and his sisters but helped immeasurably in the successful upbringing of several other kids in our town. They set the direction and lit the light we all followed.

Every man dies. Not every man lives. Jim lived--- and it was my privilege to know him.

I knew Jim when he practiced in Lander. He took my daughter Carlyn flying when she was 3 or 4 years old. She was ecstatic! After the flight, she emphatically said that she wanted to learn to fly. Right Now! I said she could when she was 16 figuring by then flying would be long forgotten. No such luck. She never forgot and she began flying at age 16....

I worked with Dr. Howell at the Lander Medical Clinic and had the pleasure or hearing his stories, words of wisdom--and humor! He always had lots of tales to tell and information to share and was a truly kind person. One of my most vivid memories was of a Halloween when Dr. Howell dressed up as a Ninja and lurked in his office outside the employee lounge area waiting for unsuspecting employees to pass by and jump out and startle them. Apparently he had done this several times when I came wandering by, but my reaction by all accounts was the most spectacular of all as I screamed and literally jumped clear into an exam room down the hall. As soon as I got my heart started again it was quite funny. However, the next day I received a rose bowl and note of apology from Dr. Howell for scaring me so completely.

Another story that comes up still in conversation refers to Piper calling her dad and it was always "very, very, very" important. Each time she called until she actually talked to him required the addition of another "very". He always just smiled and called her to solve the latest "very" important crisis.

Our prayers are with all of you fortunate enough to have had Dr. Howell in your lives. He will be sorely missed.

I will always remember Jim as a bright young man, always approachable. He was very intellectual but always approachable.
Classmate 1964 SHS

The Howell and Rogers families have been my life long friends and Jim was always there with a smile or some friendly advice. My teenage years were spent spending time at the "pit" with the Rogers boys where Jim and Maureen were always gracious to us(even when we were getting into trouble). My undying love and respect go out to all of you, Jim will be missed and he will always be honored in my prayers. Cheers Jim!

I had the pleasure to spend several hours with jim during the months of april -may of 74 when he worked for big horn airways in sheridan. he was my flight instructor for my commerical asel. he was a joy to fly with and a very good teacher, at the time he was building a BD-5 plane down on 5th street. i had a piper super cub and i loaned it ( may-july ) to he and sherill ?, so she could fly it. they both enjoyed the cub. jim was a fine person, now he flies on high. my condolences to the family.
/ bill moore