Richard "Dick" Pomeroy Calhoun

Richard "Dick" Pomeroy Calhoun, a beloved father, grandfather and great-grandfather, respected banker and art lover, died at age 86, at home on Thursday, September 23, 2021. A resident of Omaha, Neb., Dick died only a few days before his 87th birthday. He will be remembered as a man who was imbued with curiosity, humor, and integrity — and was steadfast in living his values. Dick was married to Kirsten "Kris" Malm Calhoun for 62 years. Kris predeceased him on March 13, 2020. He is survived by his daughter, Karen Easterling and her husband Hank Easterling; and by his son, Ed Calhoun and his wife Linda Calhoun. Born in Little Rock, Ark., Dick graduated from Central High School in Little Rock and from the University of Utah. He met his future wife Kris there on a blind date. While a student at the university, Dick was in the Reserve Officers' Training Corps (ROTC). When he was about to be deployed to Japan in 1957, he and Kris were married. Overseas, he was stationed in Okinawa and flew patrols as a U.S. Navy navigator. After returning to the United States, he attended Harvard Business School and earned his M.B.A. In 1989, Dick helped start a community bank, the Springdale Bank & Trust, in a renovated church building in Springdale, Ark. He enjoyed building a team and was proud to see them grow it into what is now a flourishing bank with more than a billion in deposits. During his banking career, he was primarily motivated by the intellectual challenge of running a bank and helping customers. He liked seeing local businesses succeed and helped them get off the ground with loans and solid advice. Though Dick spent decades as a banker, he also thoroughly enjoyed his role as an educator. A natural teacher, he loved mentoring and sharing his knowledge about banking, macroeconomics, and financial management with others. He especially enjoyed teaching community college students.   During his lifetime, Dick made his home in numerous places including Little Rock, Ark., where he went to Kramer Elementary, East Side Junior High, and Central High School; Salt Lake City, Utah; Okinawa, Japan; Watertown, Mass.; Riverside, Calif.; Albuquerque and Santa Fe, N.M., Springdale, Ark.; Fayetteville, Ark.; and Omaha, Neb.  An art aficionado, he particularly loved art of the American West. He entertained family and friends with his whimsical three-dimensional and installation pieces. His creations included brightly colored flower sculptures and a metal dog welded from junkyard scraps. On his porch, he positioned a decorative rabbit so it appeared to be staring at a computer monitor that he had painted red. Dick had a dry, self-effacing sense of humor, often proudly proclaiming himself to be a descendant of King Richard the Chicken-Hearted. He displayed a framed certificate he'd earned for good penmanship in school — even though his handwriting was notoriously hard to read. In his off hours and in retirement, he was meticulous about trimming the shrubs around his home. He loved to kick back in his recliner and read anything and everything, from magazines to the latest novels. He also touted the merits of instant coffee crystals, claiming the flavor was superior to "real" coffee. He was genuinely curious, always collecting information and expressing a genuine interest in other people's ideas. Even a week before he died, he was discussing his views on current events. His family describes him as down to earth, humble, analytical, perceptive, funny, honest, smart, kind, and decidedly forthright in standing up for his principles. He was also a whiz with numbers. As a child, Karen would reel off a long string of numbers that had to be added up... and Dick kept a running total without the benefit of calculator or paper and pen. When Karen and Ed were kids, Dick used car trips as a teaching opportunity. Ed recalls one ride when he offhandedly asked how many dollar bills it would take — if the bills were placed end-to-end — to reach the moon. Dick calculated the figure on the fly. He taught Karen how to add numbers and read maps at the same time by asking her to study the map and figure out how many miles were between the towns they passed through. Then he rapidly estimated how many miles remained until they were "there." His kids always arrived a bit wiser at the end of a journey. Throughout his life, Dick preferred to make his charitable donations anonymously. He'd help people behind the scenes in a quiet way, so they never knew the identity of their benefactor. His family wishes to carry on this kind-hearted tradition, and asks people to consider carrying out a random – or not-so-random – act of kindness in his memory.