Nancy Ann Bowen Skabelund

In the windy spring of 1933, in Scotts Bluff, Leslie and Hortense had a beautiful girl they named Nancy, the youngest behind two brothers, Jack and Don.

On the day she was born, her dad was so proud that he gave Jack an entire dollar, which in the manner of 8-year olds, both Jack and his best friend Billy French promptly proceeded the nearest soda shop. March 25 was a splendid day.

Had he lived to see his little girl grow up, Les would have watched her spend the countless afternoons of grammar school poised before her piano, accompanied by any one of the multitude of cats she would have throughout her life. By high school she was playing with the jazz band from the Utah State Agricultural College, and would later study under the great Irving Wasserman, to receive a masters degree in piano performance from Utah State University.

Along the way Nancy Bowen would marry a lanky and handsome fellow with eyes of danish blue, an English professor-to-be, Dean Skabelund, and become a mother of two children, Nicole and Erik- to later still become a doting and zany grandmother to Nicole’s four daughters.

A remarkable pianist capable of ascending any stage, the complex echoes of Rachmaninoff, Chopin, Debussy, and compositions of her own, would fill her house. Every work she played and composed became its own glimmering nebula of sound, radiating and weaving itself back into the silent mystery from which it came. She was capable of magic.

Nancy ever adorned the world around herself with color, her yard a garden of feral flowers that burst forth with the same reckless glee as her own laughter, her home a myriad of things always in the process of being knitted and sewn, intricate as thoughtful, for all whom she loved.

She forever held fascination in the mysterious and unseeable, beguiled by the only craft more intricate than her own, the painstaking works of Nature, in whose crystals, gems and stones she found such vast and boundless wonder, and the splendor of the cosmos in which she found the same.

She loved nothing more than to spend time in the delight of her family, companionship of dearest friends, or wandering away the afternoon with her dog in places close, and far, common or secret, in the canyons and high places of our mountains.

Always a teacher, she showed us the delight in the mischief of kittens, and how to honor the dedication of puppies that would grow into the lineage of valiant German Shepherds that watched over us as we slept or played or found our way home across the vacant fields of childhood, in the world Logan was a half century ago.

Either as her own children or the many students over those many years, as we sat before the same piano upon which she spent those afternoons so long ago, she taught us to count. Count our time. Count it well. Nothing is more important. So we shall, mom. We shall do our best. Because a final lesson you gave to us, most truly important of all, is never to believe we have more time than we do. Your rich life was too short for all you had yet to do, to, delight in, to laugh over, to know, to see, to feel, and to create.

On February 7, 2013, a Being ill-suited to survive in the captivity of a body disabled by stroke, Nancy passed from this good earth, to swim among the vaults and spires of La Cathédral Engloutie, lilt in the facets of Debussy’s moonlight, to glimmer and radiate and weave into the unseeable realms of the Universe.

We will see you in the spring when your iris bloom in their intricate grace, and in the shy blossoms of flax beneath the sky of June, and snapdragons in the frail sun of a long lingering autumn. And we shall feel your touch in a sweater, or scarf, or keepsake you crafted, and hear your delirious laughter just beyond the silence of the night sky.

She leaves behind her children and grand-daughters, her brother Jack, sisters-in-law, her many beautiful friends, her cats, and the greatest German Shepherd of all of them, Mootzee.

Thank you for being Mom, wife, sister, grandmother, teacher, friend and mentor to so many of us. For all you taught us, and shall continue to, even if only from our memories.

Now sleep, Nancy. Gentle, beautiful, and marvelous as ever you always were, safe and adored, in your Daddy’s arms again.



Nancy’s family wish to express immense and humble gratitude to the staff of Legacy House, Access Hospice, and all who gave care to Nancy in his final months, days and hours. In lieu of tokens of condolence, anyone wishing to express their well-wishes could do so by please making a donation to the Alzheimers Association, in hope that no one else ever suffer this devestating affliction; www.alz.org .