Bruce Bell made a huge impact in the beekeeping community of Southwest Colorado. When word got out that he had passed away on November 18, 2021, the notes of thanks for his life came pouring in. He had a passion for bees that got many, many people started in beekeeping, and was always generous with his time. He spent countless hours helping people with their bees. He was important in the regional bee club as a mentor to its founder and though he always sat in the back row, with his experience, wisdom, and advice he was the mainstay of the club. He loved (and hated) doing bee removals and taught a couple of us everything we know about this challenging job. He loved to joke about those occasional mean colonies that he “needed Teflon underwear” to get through. He was a fantastic storyteller, and his beekeeping stories helped us learn what to do, and what not to do, when we came to the same situation.
He told a story about a bee getting inside his veil one day. Normally not a big deal, so he decided he would ignore her and let the girl out when he finished his job. This particular day, though, the bee went up his nose. Not expecting this after 40 years of keeping bees, he didn’t have a plan, so he did the first thing that crossed his mind. He crushed the bee inside his nose. She stung him, of course, making his “nose pour snot and eyes run with water.” He was laughing at himself for not thinking to put his finger against the other nostril and blow her out. It wasn’t but a little while later that this exact thing happened to me, but thanks to Bruce, the bee and I both survived unscathed.
Bruce lived his whole life with the energy and enthusiasm that he poured into his bees. He never hesitated to try new things, and if he loved it, he gave it his all. He lived a very full life in his 74 years. He was born on April 26th, 1947 to LaRue Reck and was then adopted by Charles and Frances Bell. They lived in Iowa where he enjoyed time on the farm with his cousins. When he was 14, they moved to Arizona where he graduated from high school in Prescott in 1965. After school, he joined the army and felt very blessed to be stationed in Alaska instead of Vietnam. He married Rose, and they had four children, the oldest dying at age six.
After getting out of the service, he moved his young family to Arizona where he became the youngest state patrol officer at the age of 21. He had some great stories from this time, one involving a coffin flying off a hearse and causing an accident. Later, he worked as a deputy sheriff and in construction, which is what brought him to Durango, Colorado, where he helped tear down the old Graden Feed Mill where a fancy hotel now stands. He owned BC towing (more great stories) and the trailer park near the local drive-in. He worked as a volunteer firefighter and ran for sheriff in 1986.
In 1987, he married Rita Robbins and they took over running her dad’s cattle ranch until 1993. Bruce and Rita learned to dive and sail, and they sold everything and bought a sailboat that they called home for eleven years. Rita worked as a traveling nurse while Bruce picked up odd jobs. He worked as a taxi driver in the Florida Keys without a driver’s license (Bruce was not a conformist), as a DJ, security guard, or whatever came along that interested him, and made many friends along the way.
During shoulder surgery in 1987, Bruce’s heart stopped, and this motivated him to find his birth mother, which he eventually did. He really enjoyed getting to know his mother, three half-sisters, and six cousins, though he remained deeply thankful for his adoptive parents. In 2004, when Bruce was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy from damage caused by a virus, they sold the boat and came back to Durango. He was given six months to live and felt so thankful for every extra minute since then. He wasn’t able to get a heart transplant, and thereafter was unable to do a lot of the things he had done before. He still lived life with joy, and was always interested in something new. He loved farming, raising a lot of his own food, and his bees, and had a team of draft horses that he enjoyed driving with his wagon down to get ice cream in town.
Bruce was diagnosed with bladder cancer in 2016, and due to his heart condition, treatment options were limited. They didn’t give him much hope. He had the tumors scraped out four times, and he did natural treatments. He was cancer-free for the last three years. He never stopped trying to get the most out of life, even during the last six months when he was having so much more trouble with his heart and respiration. He donated his body to science.
Happily for us, he had put his faith in Jesus and was baptized in 1986, so we who are saved will get to see him again. He and Rita realized Bible truth together in the Seventh Day Adventist Church and made many great friends there, where he will be sorely missed. He was a deacon. We look forward to seeing him soon, and in the meantime his legacy lives on in Southwestern Colorado. He is survived by his wife Rita, five children and multiple grandchildren. Those who knew him can come help us celebrate his life on his farm on April 30th.
