Marcella L (Bos) Palmer Cooper
Born on July 7th, 1937.
Died on July 19, 2022.
Marcie was the first child of Otto and Bena (Willemssen) Bos. She grew up in farm country near the town of Little Rock in northwest Iowa. The oldest of four children (one girl, three boys), she had her own bedroom at the top of the stairs in an old, two-story farmhouse. The room had one window, no heat and her brothers had to pass through it to get to their room but, she had it to herself. There was no running water in the house and baths took place on Saturday night (the legends are true) in a galvanized steel tub in the middle of the living room filled with water, hand-pumped from outside and hauled into the house in buckets then heated on the stove. Getting ready for school each morning was washing up at the sink with water that also had to be heated on the stove.
Marcie contracted polio when she was a young girl and was partially paralyzed in one of her legs. She did her convalescence on the living room couch with her father carrying her up to her room each night and back down in the morning. The doctors said her paralysis would be permanent, but Marcie had other ideas. Each day she would wait until her family left the house to do the chores and then using the furniture in the living room as support, would force herself to walk around the room until her leg worked properly again.
That bout with polio was the only thing that got her out of the many chores she and her brothers had to do before and after going to school. Marcie's two particular chores were; the daily gathering and cleaning of the 60 dozen or so eggs laid each week by the flock of chickens her family kept, and cleaning the milk separator in the morning before school. She liked to sleep until the last possible second in the morning and more than once caused the school bus to have to wait as she ran down the drive, in the last stages of dressing, only to be faced with the now, day old, mostly sour, milk separator mess when she got home after school.
Marcie attended a one room schoolhouse through the 8th grade and Little Rock High School for grades 9 through 12, where she played first chair alto saxophone in the band and marched in numerous parades including the big one – Tulip Days at Orange City, Iowa. She also played piano. Marcie graduated from high school in 1955. She was the first of her family to achieve that milestone.
After high school Marcie went into nurses training and earned her RN from the St. Joseph School of Nursing in Sioux City, IA. Her first car was a 1949 grey, four door Studebaker which she would drive back to the farm for visits whenever she could. Her father rode with her exactly once and never again. Something about 80 miles an hour and never looking at the speedometer. She never lost that "need for speed".
Nursing was Marcie's calling. She stayed with St. Joe's hospital through its many permutations for about four decades caring for patients and teaching other nurses how to do it right, sometimes through formal training but more often through example. Much of that time was spent in the Emergency Trauma Center on the overnight shift where she became the charge nurse and touched more lives than she ever imagined. She was dedicated to her patients. The ones which had the most impact on her were little boys who came in because they were terribly sick or needed medical attention due to the results of some misadventure and young women who were injured by their abusive partners. More than once she would call in from home after a long shift to check on a patient she had spent many hours of the night comforting and caring for. She sometimes gave the young women unofficial but sound advice that wouldn't be considered remotely Politically Correct these days. A bit of a sewing / intimidation lesson that would suggest to the abuser that falling asleep after hurting someone who had access to his sheets, stout thread, a broom stick and some frying pans might not be such a good idea. Marcie always did what she could to empower women who had not yet learned that "they didn't have to put up with that crap".
Marcie took her nursing seriously but was not above having fun with her fellow nurses in the odd quiet moment. And woe to the male nurse who fell asleep on the night shift in the '70s and early '80s. He might wake up with polished nails and a call to help attend an older gentleman patient. Expect raised eyebrows at the least.
Marcie lived most of her life in Iowa with a few years spent in Germany when she had to relocate herself and her very young daughter from Sioux City, IA and across the ocean to be with her first husband when the Army stationed him there in the early 1960s. Unaccustomed to idle time and to supplement the family income, though she spoke no German, she got a job at the local hospital and was able to get the kindly landlord to watch the baby.
After she returned to the states and added two more children to her family, Marcie continued her love of sewing, reading and a friendly slot machine. She sewed clothes for her children, her friends and their children and after divorcing her first husband in the early 80s she took a second job as a seamstress at the Brass Buckle, a trendy teen/young adult clothing store. She continued to sew through nearly the rest of her life. After taking a How To class from Western Iowa Tech, she started a very small sewing business and became known to the craft show circuit as, "That lady with the marvelous animal quilts". Her basement was the equal of any fabric store and if she didn't know how to mend something it was too far gone to be mended.
She did a bit of traveling, when her busy life allowed, but it happened most often after her second marriage. She would find herself, on many a weekend, hauling an RV to some midwestern campground or on a long road trip to visit her children and grandchildren. Aside from visits to see the grandkids, her favorite trips were the outings to Las Vegas, NV with her nursing friends. Marcie would never be so rude as to pass up an opportunity to stop and say, "Hello" to a friendly slot machine. After retirement, you could find her dropping a few quarters at a local casino on a Wednesday evening.
The years of service and the wear and tear of decades of nursing took a toll on Marcie's body. She had multiple surgeries, the replacement of both hips and a shoulder, a few back surgeries and other health issues. These didn't really slow her down much until the last couple years of her life when she became too ill to get around very much on her own.
Marcie was a NURSE, a strong leader and a compassionate guide. The concept of putting others before herself permeated her whole being. It was her heart and soul, and could not be separated from her, even by death. Beyond the last moments of her life, she gave a young nurse the opportunity to provide the last act of care to a patient by being the first body her hospital floor nurse was to prepare, on her own, for transfer to the morgue. It was absolutely fitting that even then; she would be the one to help another nurse learn the best way to treat a patient through the performance of that final office and provide just one more element of comfort to a grieving family.
Marcie is preceded in death by her father Otto and her mother, Bena. She is survived by her brothers; Arn, Don and Bern, her three children; Cynthia (Scott) Pederson, Steph (Kris) Eastman, and Eric (Irene) Palmer; three grandsons, five great-grandchildren and her 2nd husband.
At her request, there will be no services. Her cremains will be buried near her parents in Pleasant View Cemetery, Little Rock. To honor her memory, you could make a donation of time or money to the Hospice of Siouxland (they helped her family very much on this journey) or the Siouxland Humane Society (she loved animals and most of her pets were strays she befriended when they came her way). Or you could buy a nurse a cup of coffee, hold a door open for a little old lady, drop a quarter in a slot machine and whisper "This one is for you Marcie", or just take a second to stop and think before you do something stupid that might end you up in the Emergency Room (she loved taking care of people who really needed her but the dumb ones who put themselves in harm's way annoyed the heck out of her).
Born on July 7th, 1937.
Died on July 19, 2022.
Marcie was the first child of Otto and Bena (Willemssen) Bos. She grew up in farm country near the town of Little Rock in northwest Iowa. The oldest of four children (one girl, three boys), she had her own bedroom at the top of the stairs in an old, two-story farmhouse. The room had one window, no heat and her brothers had to pass through it to get to their room but, she had it to herself. There was no running water in the house and baths took place on Saturday night (the legends are true) in a galvanized steel tub in the middle of the living room filled with water, hand-pumped from outside and hauled into the house in buckets then heated on the stove. Getting ready for school each morning was washing up at the sink with water that also had to be heated on the stove.
Marcie contracted polio when she was a young girl and was partially paralyzed in one of her legs. She did her convalescence on the living room couch with her father carrying her up to her room each night and back down in the morning. The doctors said her paralysis would be permanent, but Marcie had other ideas. Each day she would wait until her family left the house to do the chores and then using the furniture in the living room as support, would force herself to walk around the room until her leg worked properly again.
That bout with polio was the only thing that got her out of the many chores she and her brothers had to do before and after going to school. Marcie's two particular chores were; the daily gathering and cleaning of the 60 dozen or so eggs laid each week by the flock of chickens her family kept, and cleaning the milk separator in the morning before school. She liked to sleep until the last possible second in the morning and more than once caused the school bus to have to wait as she ran down the drive, in the last stages of dressing, only to be faced with the now, day old, mostly sour, milk separator mess when she got home after school.
Marcie attended a one room schoolhouse through the 8th grade and Little Rock High School for grades 9 through 12, where she played first chair alto saxophone in the band and marched in numerous parades including the big one – Tulip Days at Orange City, Iowa. She also played piano. Marcie graduated from high school in 1955. She was the first of her family to achieve that milestone.
After high school Marcie went into nurses training and earned her RN from the St. Joseph School of Nursing in Sioux City, IA. Her first car was a 1949 grey, four door Studebaker which she would drive back to the farm for visits whenever she could. Her father rode with her exactly once and never again. Something about 80 miles an hour and never looking at the speedometer. She never lost that "need for speed".
Nursing was Marcie's calling. She stayed with St. Joe's hospital through its many permutations for about four decades caring for patients and teaching other nurses how to do it right, sometimes through formal training but more often through example. Much of that time was spent in the Emergency Trauma Center on the overnight shift where she became the charge nurse and touched more lives than she ever imagined. She was dedicated to her patients. The ones which had the most impact on her were little boys who came in because they were terribly sick or needed medical attention due to the results of some misadventure and young women who were injured by their abusive partners. More than once she would call in from home after a long shift to check on a patient she had spent many hours of the night comforting and caring for. She sometimes gave the young women unofficial but sound advice that wouldn't be considered remotely Politically Correct these days. A bit of a sewing / intimidation lesson that would suggest to the abuser that falling asleep after hurting someone who had access to his sheets, stout thread, a broom stick and some frying pans might not be such a good idea. Marcie always did what she could to empower women who had not yet learned that "they didn't have to put up with that crap".
Marcie took her nursing seriously but was not above having fun with her fellow nurses in the odd quiet moment. And woe to the male nurse who fell asleep on the night shift in the '70s and early '80s. He might wake up with polished nails and a call to help attend an older gentleman patient. Expect raised eyebrows at the least.
Marcie lived most of her life in Iowa with a few years spent in Germany when she had to relocate herself and her very young daughter from Sioux City, IA and across the ocean to be with her first husband when the Army stationed him there in the early 1960s. Unaccustomed to idle time and to supplement the family income, though she spoke no German, she got a job at the local hospital and was able to get the kindly landlord to watch the baby.
After she returned to the states and added two more children to her family, Marcie continued her love of sewing, reading and a friendly slot machine. She sewed clothes for her children, her friends and their children and after divorcing her first husband in the early 80s she took a second job as a seamstress at the Brass Buckle, a trendy teen/young adult clothing store. She continued to sew through nearly the rest of her life. After taking a How To class from Western Iowa Tech, she started a very small sewing business and became known to the craft show circuit as, "That lady with the marvelous animal quilts". Her basement was the equal of any fabric store and if she didn't know how to mend something it was too far gone to be mended.
She did a bit of traveling, when her busy life allowed, but it happened most often after her second marriage. She would find herself, on many a weekend, hauling an RV to some midwestern campground or on a long road trip to visit her children and grandchildren. Aside from visits to see the grandkids, her favorite trips were the outings to Las Vegas, NV with her nursing friends. Marcie would never be so rude as to pass up an opportunity to stop and say, "Hello" to a friendly slot machine. After retirement, you could find her dropping a few quarters at a local casino on a Wednesday evening.
The years of service and the wear and tear of decades of nursing took a toll on Marcie's body. She had multiple surgeries, the replacement of both hips and a shoulder, a few back surgeries and other health issues. These didn't really slow her down much until the last couple years of her life when she became too ill to get around very much on her own.
Marcie was a NURSE, a strong leader and a compassionate guide. The concept of putting others before herself permeated her whole being. It was her heart and soul, and could not be separated from her, even by death. Beyond the last moments of her life, she gave a young nurse the opportunity to provide the last act of care to a patient by being the first body her hospital floor nurse was to prepare, on her own, for transfer to the morgue. It was absolutely fitting that even then; she would be the one to help another nurse learn the best way to treat a patient through the performance of that final office and provide just one more element of comfort to a grieving family.
Marcie is preceded in death by her father Otto and her mother, Bena. She is survived by her brothers; Arn, Don and Bern, her three children; Cynthia (Scott) Pederson, Steph (Kris) Eastman, and Eric (Irene) Palmer; three grandsons, five great-grandchildren and her 2nd husband.
At her request, there will be no services. Her cremains will be buried near her parents in Pleasant View Cemetery, Little Rock. To honor her memory, you could make a donation of time or money to the Hospice of Siouxland (they helped her family very much on this journey) or the Siouxland Humane Society (she loved animals and most of her pets were strays she befriended when they came her way). Or you could buy a nurse a cup of coffee, hold a door open for a little old lady, drop a quarter in a slot machine and whisper "This one is for you Marcie", or just take a second to stop and think before you do something stupid that might end you up in the Emergency Room (she loved taking care of people who really needed her but the dumb ones who put themselves in harm's way annoyed the heck out of her).
Marcella L (Bos) Palmer Cooper
Born on July 7th, 1937.
Died on July 19, 2022.
Marcie was the first child of Otto and Bena (Willemssen) Bos. She grew up in farm country near the town of Little Rock in northwest Iowa. The oldest of four children (one girl, three boys), she had her own bedroom at the top of the stairs in an old, two-story farmhouse. The room had one window, no heat and her brothers had to pass through it to get to their room but, she had it to herself. There was no running water in the house and baths took place on Saturday night (the legends are true) in a galvanized steel tub in the middle of the living room filled with water, hand-pumped from outside and hauled into the house in buckets then heated on the stove. Getting ready for school each morning was washing up at the sink with water that also had to be heated on the stove.
Marcie contracted polio when she was a young girl and was partially paralyzed in one of her legs. She did her convalescence on the living room couch with her father carrying her up to her room each night and back down in the morning. The doctors said her paralysis would be permanent, but Marcie had other ideas. Each day she would wait until her family left the house to do the chores and then using the furniture in the living room as support, would force herself to walk around the room until her leg worked properly again.
That bout with polio was the only thing that got her out of the many chores she and her brothers had to do before and after going to school. Marcie's two particular chores were; the daily gathering and cleaning of the 60 dozen or so eggs laid each week by the flock of chickens her family kept, and cleaning the milk separator in the morning before school. She liked to sleep until the last possible second in the morning and more than once caused the school bus to have to wait as she ran down the drive, in the last stages of dressing, only to be faced with the now, day old, mostly sour, milk separator mess when she got home after school.
Marcie attended a one room schoolhouse through the 8th grade and Little Rock High School for grades 9 through 12, where she played first chair alto saxophone in the band and marched in numerous parades including the big one – Tulip Days at Orange City, Iowa. She also played piano. Marcie graduated from high school in 1955. She was the first of her family to achieve that milestone.
After high school Marcie went into nurses training and earned her RN from the St. Joseph School of Nursing in Sioux City, IA. Her first car was a 1949 grey, four door Studebaker which she would drive back to the farm for visits whenever she could. Her father rode with her exactly once and never again. Something about 80 miles an hour and never looking at the speedometer. She never lost that "need for speed".
Nursing was Marcie's calling. She stayed with St. Joe's hospital through its many permutations for about four decades caring for patients and teaching other nurses how to do it right, sometimes through formal training but more often through example. Much of that time was spent in the Emergency Trauma Center on the overnight shift where she became the charge nurse and touched more lives than she ever imagined. She was dedicated to her patients. The ones which had the most impact on her were little boys who came in because they were terribly sick or needed medical attention due to the results of some misadventure and young women who were injured by their abusive partners. More than once she would call in from home after a long shift to check on a patient she had spent many hours of the night comforting and caring for. She sometimes gave the young women unofficial but sound advice that wouldn't be considered remotely Politically Correct these days. A bit of a sewing / intimidation lesson that would suggest to the abuser that falling asleep after hurting someone who had access to his sheets, stout thread, a broom stick and some frying pans might not be such a good idea. Marcie always did what she could to empower women who had not yet learned that "they didn't have to put up with that crap".
Marcie took her nursing seriously but was not above having fun with her fellow nurses in the odd quiet moment. And woe to the male nurse who fell asleep on the night shift in the '70s and early '80s. He might wake up with polished nails and a call to help attend an older gentleman patient. Expect raised eyebrows at the least.
Marcie lived most of her life in Iowa with a few years spent in Germany when she had to relocate herself and her very young daughter from Sioux City, IA and across the ocean to be with her first husband when the Army stationed him there in the early 1960s. Unaccustomed to idle time and to supplement the family income, though she spoke no German, she got a job at the local hospital and was able to get the kindly landlord to watch the baby.
After she returned to the states and added two more children to her family, Marcie continued her love of sewing, reading and a friendly slot machine. She sewed clothes for her children, her friends and their children and after divorcing her first husband in the early 80s she took a second job as a seamstress at the Brass Buckle, a trendy teen/young adult clothing store. She continued to sew through nearly the rest of her life. After taking a How To class from Western Iowa Tech, she started a very small sewing business and became known to the craft show circuit as, "That lady with the marvelous animal quilts". Her basement was the equal of any fabric store and if she didn't know how to mend something it was too far gone to be mended.
She did a bit of traveling, when her busy life allowed, but it happened most often after her second marriage. She would find herself, on many a weekend, hauling an RV to some midwestern campground or on a long road trip to visit her children and grandchildren. Aside from visits to see the grandkids, her favorite trips were the outings to Las Vegas, NV with her nursing friends. Marcie would never be so rude as to pass up an opportunity to stop and say, "Hello" to a friendly slot machine. After retirement, you could find her dropping a few quarters at a local casino on a Wednesday evening.
The years of service and the wear and tear of decades of nursing took a toll on Marcie's body. She had multiple surgeries, the replacement of both hips and a shoulder, a few back surgeries and other health issues. These didn't really slow her down much until the last couple years of her life when she became too ill to get around very much on her own.
Marcie was a NURSE, a strong leader and a compassionate guide. The concept of putting others before herself permeated her whole being. It was her heart and soul, and could not be separated from her, even by death. Beyond the last moments of her life, she gave a young nurse the opportunity to provide the last act of care to a patient by being the first body her hospital floor nurse was to prepare, on her own, for transfer to the morgue. It was absolutely fitting that even then; she would be the one to help another nurse learn the best way to treat a patient through the performance of that final office and provide just one more element of comfort to a grieving family.
Marcie is preceded in death by her father Otto and her mother, Bena. She is survived by her brothers; Arn, Don and Bern, her three children; Cynthia (Scott) Pederson, Steph (Kris) Eastman, and Eric (Irene) Palmer; three grandsons, five great-grandchildren and her 2nd husband.
At her request, there will be no services. Her cremains will be buried near her parents in Pleasant View Cemetery, Little Rock. To honor her memory, you could make a donation of time or money to the Hospice of Siouxland (they helped her family very much on this journey) or the Siouxland Humane Society (she loved animals and most of her pets were strays she befriended when they came her way). Or you could buy a nurse a cup of coffee, hold a door open for a little old lady, drop a quarter in a slot machine and whisper "This one is for you Marcie", or just take a second to stop and think before you do something stupid that might end you up in the Emergency Room (she loved taking care of people who really needed her but the dumb ones who put themselves in harm's way annoyed the heck out of her).
Born on July 7th, 1937.
Died on July 19, 2022.
Marcie was the first child of Otto and Bena (Willemssen) Bos. She grew up in farm country near the town of Little Rock in northwest Iowa. The oldest of four children (one girl, three boys), she had her own bedroom at the top of the stairs in an old, two-story farmhouse. The room had one window, no heat and her brothers had to pass through it to get to their room but, she had it to herself. There was no running water in the house and baths took place on Saturday night (the legends are true) in a galvanized steel tub in the middle of the living room filled with water, hand-pumped from outside and hauled into the house in buckets then heated on the stove. Getting ready for school each morning was washing up at the sink with water that also had to be heated on the stove.
Marcie contracted polio when she was a young girl and was partially paralyzed in one of her legs. She did her convalescence on the living room couch with her father carrying her up to her room each night and back down in the morning. The doctors said her paralysis would be permanent, but Marcie had other ideas. Each day she would wait until her family left the house to do the chores and then using the furniture in the living room as support, would force herself to walk around the room until her leg worked properly again.
That bout with polio was the only thing that got her out of the many chores she and her brothers had to do before and after going to school. Marcie's two particular chores were; the daily gathering and cleaning of the 60 dozen or so eggs laid each week by the flock of chickens her family kept, and cleaning the milk separator in the morning before school. She liked to sleep until the last possible second in the morning and more than once caused the school bus to have to wait as she ran down the drive, in the last stages of dressing, only to be faced with the now, day old, mostly sour, milk separator mess when she got home after school.
Marcie attended a one room schoolhouse through the 8th grade and Little Rock High School for grades 9 through 12, where she played first chair alto saxophone in the band and marched in numerous parades including the big one – Tulip Days at Orange City, Iowa. She also played piano. Marcie graduated from high school in 1955. She was the first of her family to achieve that milestone.
After high school Marcie went into nurses training and earned her RN from the St. Joseph School of Nursing in Sioux City, IA. Her first car was a 1949 grey, four door Studebaker which she would drive back to the farm for visits whenever she could. Her father rode with her exactly once and never again. Something about 80 miles an hour and never looking at the speedometer. She never lost that "need for speed".
Nursing was Marcie's calling. She stayed with St. Joe's hospital through its many permutations for about four decades caring for patients and teaching other nurses how to do it right, sometimes through formal training but more often through example. Much of that time was spent in the Emergency Trauma Center on the overnight shift where she became the charge nurse and touched more lives than she ever imagined. She was dedicated to her patients. The ones which had the most impact on her were little boys who came in because they were terribly sick or needed medical attention due to the results of some misadventure and young women who were injured by their abusive partners. More than once she would call in from home after a long shift to check on a patient she had spent many hours of the night comforting and caring for. She sometimes gave the young women unofficial but sound advice that wouldn't be considered remotely Politically Correct these days. A bit of a sewing / intimidation lesson that would suggest to the abuser that falling asleep after hurting someone who had access to his sheets, stout thread, a broom stick and some frying pans might not be such a good idea. Marcie always did what she could to empower women who had not yet learned that "they didn't have to put up with that crap".
Marcie took her nursing seriously but was not above having fun with her fellow nurses in the odd quiet moment. And woe to the male nurse who fell asleep on the night shift in the '70s and early '80s. He might wake up with polished nails and a call to help attend an older gentleman patient. Expect raised eyebrows at the least.
Marcie lived most of her life in Iowa with a few years spent in Germany when she had to relocate herself and her very young daughter from Sioux City, IA and across the ocean to be with her first husband when the Army stationed him there in the early 1960s. Unaccustomed to idle time and to supplement the family income, though she spoke no German, she got a job at the local hospital and was able to get the kindly landlord to watch the baby.
After she returned to the states and added two more children to her family, Marcie continued her love of sewing, reading and a friendly slot machine. She sewed clothes for her children, her friends and their children and after divorcing her first husband in the early 80s she took a second job as a seamstress at the Brass Buckle, a trendy teen/young adult clothing store. She continued to sew through nearly the rest of her life. After taking a How To class from Western Iowa Tech, she started a very small sewing business and became known to the craft show circuit as, "That lady with the marvelous animal quilts". Her basement was the equal of any fabric store and if she didn't know how to mend something it was too far gone to be mended.
She did a bit of traveling, when her busy life allowed, but it happened most often after her second marriage. She would find herself, on many a weekend, hauling an RV to some midwestern campground or on a long road trip to visit her children and grandchildren. Aside from visits to see the grandkids, her favorite trips were the outings to Las Vegas, NV with her nursing friends. Marcie would never be so rude as to pass up an opportunity to stop and say, "Hello" to a friendly slot machine. After retirement, you could find her dropping a few quarters at a local casino on a Wednesday evening.
The years of service and the wear and tear of decades of nursing took a toll on Marcie's body. She had multiple surgeries, the replacement of both hips and a shoulder, a few back surgeries and other health issues. These didn't really slow her down much until the last couple years of her life when she became too ill to get around very much on her own.
Marcie was a NURSE, a strong leader and a compassionate guide. The concept of putting others before herself permeated her whole being. It was her heart and soul, and could not be separated from her, even by death. Beyond the last moments of her life, she gave a young nurse the opportunity to provide the last act of care to a patient by being the first body her hospital floor nurse was to prepare, on her own, for transfer to the morgue. It was absolutely fitting that even then; she would be the one to help another nurse learn the best way to treat a patient through the performance of that final office and provide just one more element of comfort to a grieving family.
Marcie is preceded in death by her father Otto and her mother, Bena. She is survived by her brothers; Arn, Don and Bern, her three children; Cynthia (Scott) Pederson, Steph (Kris) Eastman, and Eric (Irene) Palmer; three grandsons, five great-grandchildren and her 2nd husband.
At her request, there will be no services. Her cremains will be buried near her parents in Pleasant View Cemetery, Little Rock. To honor her memory, you could make a donation of time or money to the Hospice of Siouxland (they helped her family very much on this journey) or the Siouxland Humane Society (she loved animals and most of her pets were strays she befriended when they came her way). Or you could buy a nurse a cup of coffee, hold a door open for a little old lady, drop a quarter in a slot machine and whisper "This one is for you Marcie", or just take a second to stop and think before you do something stupid that might end you up in the Emergency Room (she loved taking care of people who really needed her but the dumb ones who put themselves in harm's way annoyed the heck out of her).
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See more Palmer Cooper or Bos memorials in:
- Pleasant View Cemetery Palmer Cooper or Bos
- Little Rock Palmer Cooper or Bos
- Lyon County Palmer Cooper or Bos
- Iowa Palmer Cooper or Bos
- USA Palmer Cooper or Bos
- Find a Grave Palmer Cooper or Bos
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