Occupation - Homemaker

Lloyd and Lois married on 18 Jan 1958 at St Margaret Mary's Church in Oakland, Alameda, California . They were the parents of three children.

Lois Marie Auclair Gowen
July 24, 1937 – August 10, 2017

Lois Marie Gowen was born in Oakland, California to Ralph Louis and Angelina (née Carollo) Auclair. Her maternal grandparents were immigrants from Italy and her grandmother Luigia Carollo had a huge impact on her life, instilling a love for Italian opera and music in general. She began playing piano when she was seven and the bassoon while she was in high school. She was the first in her family to attend college, graduating from San Francisco State College with a Bachelor's in Fine Art.

While attending San Francisco State, she was a member of the chorus which had an opportunity to sing with the San Francisco Symphony. She slouched so she could be in the front row where she and a girlfriend were checking out the young single musicians. It was at this event that she would meet Lloyd, inviting him to a party and they began dating. Four months later they were engaged and were married January 18, 1958 in Oakland.

Three children, John, Ralph and Sharon followed in the next four years and Lois dedicated herself to raising the children and being a homemaker, but never stopped practicing her piano music. She took lessons and played beautifully, accompanying Lloyd whenever family and friends were around. She squired the children around to various music lessons, concerts, science classes, and on constant trips to local parks where they camped, played and explored.

She was a gourmet cook and delighted in entertaining, putting on lavish dinner parties. More than one or two folks had to navigate through the forest of silverware, "What's this fork for?" She was adventurous in the cuisine and would try recipes from many parts of the world. Eventually, she and Lloyd became confirmed vegans believing this would offer many health benefits.

Always an artist and handy with her hands, she would dedicate herself to whatever passion she chose. Music, sewing, photography, stained glass work, tropical fish, her garden were only a few of these. She loved exploring San Francisco and the surrounding area and took the time to share the city with house guests, friends and family whenever they visited. Her passion for quilting, the weird side of life, and the outdoors live on in her children.

After her children were grown, she found her calling in working with people with AIDS. At the height of the AIDS crisis and living just outside of San Francisco which was practically ground zero for the epidemic she volunteered to help however she could. Initially, this was working with Project Open Hand preparing meals for people with AIDS. Later she became a care giver, doing for many others what they could not do for themselves. This was the hardest work of her life, but also the most fulfilling.

Following Lloyd's retirement, they relocated from Daly City to Concord where they bought a lovely home and she began working with colored pencils making hundreds of "paintings" as she called them, filling their house with pictures of family members and of anything that caught her eye.

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A series of excerpts from a book, Lois wrote about her time working as a volunteer in San Francisco at the height of the AIDS epidemic.

Excerpts from AIDS Vignettes – Stories of a Volunteer
By Lois Gowen - 1996
For her heart son, Matthew, who died

This was written for me. To help me grieve. It was written so that these brave souls are not forgotten. I feel that there needs to be a history of this work, and these times.

Gathering my courage, one day I walked into the kitchen.
I was asked "What can we do for you?"
"No, what can I do for you?" I replied.
I found myself chopping onions and peeling potatoes.

We prepared nearly three hundred hot meals a day.
These, with a bag lunch were delivered each evening
Without cost to a person with AIDS.
In this city, no one with AIDS had to go hungry.

I was proud of my work through the six months I served.
All kinds of people from all walks of life were involved.
Feeling a need to work more closely with people with AIDS
I resigned my work and took Shanti's training.

I heard someone playing a Mozart piano Sonata.
I walked down the hall to say hello.

Steven was my first gay friend
And my first friend with AIDS.
I had to learn fast to be able to help
And to know how to protect myself.

I rang the doorbell, he came down to let me in.
A small, slim man from Texas with light brown hair.
Larry's face lit up when he saw me,
"I'm glad it is you, I saw you on television,
It is nice to have an experienced volunteer."

"I am not experienced
I have only been doing this for a few months,
The interview you saw was of a new volunteer."

Two men, partners for almost a decade,
One was dying of the horror called AIDS
They wanted a ceremony to honor their commitment,
To show the world that their love was true.

The ceremony was simple and sweet,
The words of love touched us all,
A toast was proposed, the commitment was honored;
Bill died a few days later, a contented man.

I met Curtis at Petrini's market where he was a clerk.
We started talking and soon were friends,
For the next eleven years he checked me out.

I knew he was a gay man,
So, when I took Shanti training
I shared my experiences with him.

We enjoyed each other's company for a long, long time.
Curtis I am glad you were in my life.

His family asked me to pick up his ashes,
And would I do a memorial for him?

Several days later I picked up his ashes,
Placed them in a bag and took them to his apartment.

When I entered, his mother burst into laughter,
Not the response I was expecting.
I had put Curtis in a Petrini's bag.

This was to be one of the most important days of my life and I didn't know it.
I went to a FLAME meeting and Phil walked in with a friend.
This young man was dark and quiet.
He mentioned he was having trouble with his leg.

At the end of the meeting I gave him a hug,
My heart was lost to him, though I didn't realize it then.
I saw him once more before Phil told me
Matthew was in the hospital fighting to save his leg.

Later I heard he was discharged from the hospital
And his roommates wouldn't let him in.

We took him to Phil's room in a resident hotel,
As Matthew's roommates had stolen his disability checks.

With money I loaned him, he found a cheap room
In a roach infested hotel with a bathroom down the hall

It was an awful place for a man who was ill,
It was an awful place for anybody.

Rick was the first of a number of friends Matthew made,
Only to have them die before him.

When Matthew died not one close friend was still living.
Philip, Rick, Scott, Whit, Morris – all were dead.
There was only me.

He was from Montana, a hard-drinking country man.
A tall slim fellow who wore jeans and cowboy boots.

He grew close to the end. I called his parents.
His eighty-year-old father left a bed in the hospital
To come and say goodbye to his son.

One day, when coming to visit,
I entered a room and found a stripped bed.
This is not the best way to learn someone you love has died.

Matthew asked me to sit by him. He was
Frightened by death's nearness and
Wanted me close. We held hands and
Spoke in hushed tones of the fight that had been waged for the young man's life.

A woman in the next bed asked if
Matthew was my son. I felt yes in my
Heart, but I replied "No." Matthew said,
"Yes. You are more my mother, than she
Will ever be. You know I love you, you
Mean the world to me."

At the Healing Circle meeting after Matthew had died,
I told the group of his death and how much he had meant to me.
I missed him terribly, but not a tear did I cry.
I felt empty and gray inside.
I felt tired and terribly old and frail.

Gray, gray sadness.
Colors are gone, all is dull.
Endless tears slide down my cheek
Will they ever stop?

Wayne was a bassoonist in the orchestra.
His was the first death in the orchestra from the disease.
The orchestra was going to play a symphony
Written by a gay man about his feelings of rage and helplessness
Brought about by the deaths from the disease.

I called the management and suggested
That they dedicate the concert to Wayne.
I also suggested they hang panels
From the AIDS quilt around the Symphony Hall
They did both.

It was a fitting and touching memorial,
To a talented young man.

I was supposed to present a talk at a Shanti training
On the last stages of AIDS.
The training happened the day after Troy died.

I decided not to cancel.
I walked into the room with forty people sitting there,
Waiting to hear what I would say.

I grabbed a box of tissues and began
With what it was to sit at a friend's side
And watch them die.

I described the physical happenings.
How the body slips into death.
I told them how Troy had died.

I had plenty of stories from my experiences
With all those I have loved and lost.
Others wept, but I didn't cry.

They asked me how I could do this for so long.
I said that this work gave meaning to my life.
I had been given more than I ever gave.

When I finished, I was shaking.
I did a job I was proud of,
But I wish I hadn't known what to say.