In September 1955, I started fifth grade at Antwerp Elementary.
The most prominent thing that I remember was the student named Dick Powell, who happened to be sitting right next to me (at least for as long as our teacher, Mrs. Salomon, would allow it anyway).
I was one of the smallest in the class, and he wasnt.
In gym class, Dick gave me the confidence I needed to win my first boxing match.
It was against a kid who was bigger than me.
We became good buddies and got into our fair share of trouble, even landing us in the principals office more than once.
He was always there through thick and thin taking it on the chin or just having a great time.
When I developed diabetes at 14, it became clear that I couldnt stay on the farm for a living and had to, as an adult, get a desk job after school and move to Syracuse.
Years later, a special Winchester deer rifle of mine came up missing.
And not long after that, Dick, in his typical understated, modest manner, was able to retrieve that rifle and get it back to this very appreciative owner.
This very dear, loyal friend, Dick Powell, was an easy to know, likeable individual.
He was this way both as my good buddy and brother-in-law.
I know he was the same loyal way while he served as a member of the Oxbow Fire Department and Antwerp Fire Rescue.
Dick was always there, and you could depend on him. He will be missed.
Donald L. Mosher