Rita Lois Bowden

Rita Lois Bowden of Timonium, mother of eight, grandmother of 29, and great-grandmother of 22 (and counting), died peacefully at age 100 on Saturday, February 7th at Brightview Mays Chapel Ridge.

Known to her friends as Lois, and to her family as Wodie, she was a devoted wife to Richard H. “Dick” Bowden, who died in August of 1992. She was a fun-loving, clever, and creative woman whose chief joy and work in life was her family. A devout Catholic, she was a longtime worshipper at St. Joseph Parish in Cockeysville, where both she and Dick were active volunteers—they were awarded the prestigious Medal of Honor by the Archdiocese of Baltimore in 1992.

She was born on May 16, 1925 in St. Louis, Missouri, the sixth child of Edmund and Helen Keane. Growing up during the Depression with a father who was often unemployed and drunk, she and her brothers and sisters lived with hunger and uncertainty. She nevertheless remembered her childhood as very happy. Her mother hid much of the family’s troubles, and Lois and the others played games and invented toys out of whatever was at hand. They made “ice cream” by drizzling vanilla and sugar on snowballs. Lois fashioned a dollhouse out of an empty orange crate and furnished it with drawings and cutout images of people and furniture from magazines. She placed great store in imaginative play and had no patience for boredom. To the complaint “I’ve got nothing to do!” she would answer, “Spit in your shoe.”

She and her siblings all began working as soon they were old enough to find jobs, contributing their earnings to their mother. As a teen, Lois babysat and worked at the movie theater in their suburb of Webster Groves. The theater owner would let his employees creep in during slow times and watch the films for free. Lois was swept up by the stories on screen. She was babysitting one night—this was during World War 2 when several of her older brothers and sisters were in uniform and off to war—when she heard sirens and loudspeakers warning everyone to take immediate shelter. Terrified, she called her mother. The sounds were coming from a nearby drive-in movie.

She always loved movies. In 2001, when her son Mark’s book, “Black Hawk Down” was made into a feature film, Lois flew to Hollywood for the premiere, walking the red carpet and hobnobbing with the stars, an event she later claimed was one of the highlights of her life. Her son-in-law Jim Myers dubbed her “Hollywodie,” and the name stuck.

After high school, during World War 2, she took a job at the St. Louis Electric Company working a machine that stamped out metal plates, and then in the billing room. She and several of the girls who worked with her saved money for a train trip to Chicago, where they saw a show and ate out at a restaurant. On the train home she met a thin, curly-haired sailor who asked for her phone number. She gave it to him, saying, “Here, add this to your collection.”

That was her future husband. When Dick called, and kept on calling, she was surprised. She did not picture herself as attractive — “I thought I was fat and not especially pretty,” she said. Photographs from the period show how wrong she was, dark-haired, slender, curvaceous, and lovely.

They were married in 1947. Lois and Dick raised their ever-growing family in Glen Ellyn, Illinois, moved to Port Washington, NY, and finally to Timonium in 1964, when Dick went to work for The Arundel Corporation.

Lois managed the household and children with a loving but firm hand. She was driven to provide the stability her childhood lacked. Dinner each night was at six sharp. If you arrived late you sat on the stairs in the hall outside the kitchen until the meal was over—no chance for seconds with nine other mouths around the table. Her son Don remembers that when he complained that his brother was taking a fifth slice of bacon from the serving plate, she told him, “Don, stop counting the food!” and then said, “and you’ve already had five.”

Lois formed a strong network of friends in the new neighborhood of Springlake, and through the church. Many would remember the spectacular custom cakes she made in every shape imaginable — a shark, a toilet, a baby doll dress, a carriage, a tennis racquet and amazingly detailed train. She would cut layers of cake into small pieces, assemble them into a close approximation of the desired shape, and then use icing to skillfully paint the finished product. Her daughter Maribeth would build on what she learned to create a business crafting custom cookies.

A lifelong avid reader, Lois would return from regular library visits with stacks of mysteries and novels, including many that a prig would not choose. Although she never went to college, she toured the world first in those pages and then, as their children aged, with Dick, on cruises and vacation trips with friends. She could hold her own in conversation on nearly any subject, possessed sharp insight into human behavior, adored babies, and did not enjoy the company of dogs or cats. While she held firm convictions, many of them rooted in her faith, she was ever quick to concede what she did not know, and respectful of those who disagreed. And she grew. Family trumped everything. When a beloved granddaughter announced that she was gay, lifelong Catholic Lois said, without hesitation, “Then I’m gay, too.”

She is survived by her children, Mary Gayle (Horn), Gary, Mark, Richard, Donald, Brian, Drew, and Maribeth (Myers), those 29 grandchildren and 22 great grandchildren, and her two remaining siblings, Cid Keane of Webster Groves, Missouri, and Noel Keane of Littleton, Colorado.

Relatives and friends are invited to gather at the Lemmon Funeral Home of Dulaney Valley, Inc.,10 W. Padonia Road, Timonium, Maryland 21093 on Friday, February 13, 2026 from 4:00-7:00 pm, with a Christian Wake Services being held at the end of the visitation .

A Mass of Christian Burial will be celebrated at Saint Joseph’s Church, 100 Church Lane, Cockeysville, Maryland, 21030 on Saturday, February 14th, 2026, at 10:00 a.m.

Entombment, Dulaney Valley Memorial Gardens.

Lois loved color and joy—please honor her memory by wearing bright colors.

In Lieu of flowers, contributions can be made in Lois' memory to

HeartWorks or the ALS Association . Donation information below on webpage