Thomas Leslie Cotton, Tom to everyone (except a select few Navy brothers who called him Tiny Bubbles) was six-foot-four of quiet introspection, kindness, and science facts hiding behind sky-blue eyes. Born in Savanna on September 23, 1950, he left this world on Monday, May 11, 2026 after seventy-five years of love, curiosity, and hard work. Join the family for visitation from 3:00 – 5:00 p.m. on Saturday, May 16 at Pape Funeral Home. Online condolences may be left at www.papefh.com. The family requests that in lieu of flowers, donations be made to the Iowa Donor Network or The Sawmill Museum in Clinton, Iowa (make sure to stop inside when you visit the
troll!).

He grew up in Hauntown on the farm his family had worked since the Civil War. An innately gifted student of engineering, he learned to run the family’s sawmill at an age that would make OSHA shudder. After a childhood spent driving tractors, wandering the woods, and reading every book he could get his hands on, he turned eighteen under the shadow of the Vietnam draft. Instead of waiting for his number to be called, he signed up for the United States Navy, where he “earned his dolphins,” learning the ins-and-outs of every mechanism, circuit, and system inside a nuclear submarine to earn the status of submarine specialist. He served sea tours on the USS Guardfish, USS Sargo, and USS Halibut, an attack submarine whose hangars once held guided nuclear missiles, but were crammed with spy equipment by the time Tom arrived.

After four years in the navy, much of it deep underwater, he returned to Iowa where he met Kathleen Frett, starting a love story that fueled fifty-one years of devoted marriage. Together, they raised three children, Christopher, Sara, and Amanda, taking them from Sabula, to Hauntown, and finally to Clinton where Tom spent years meticulously remodeling the entire house, room-by-room. He got up early every day, leaving to drive the gravel roads of Rural Route 3, north of Clinton, which unfortunately meant spending countless nights and weekends fixing a seemingly endless series of used vehicles that got beat to heck on those roads (his favorites were his Chevy Citations, whose brakes were “easy” to fix). Luckily for the kids, Tom’s years spent operating a car while sitting shotgun made him an ideal driving instructor once they got their learning permits. He taught his kids how to use tools, fix cars, build things from wood, crack eggs one-handed, make perfect crepes, fit ice cream into their lives more often, try weird foods, listen more than they speak, doubt the politicians, listen to whale songs, laugh really freaking loud when something is funny, believe in the promises of cold fusion
and hydrogen-powered flying cars, enjoy Twilight Zone, Star Trek, Alfred Hitchcock, and don’t forget Analog Magazine, which lined the shelves of his den for years.

Tom will live deep in the hearts of everyone he touched, where he’ll be remembered for his quiet kindness, his keen intellect, his love for technology and innovation, and his curveball non sequiturs sharing fascinating facts. Now that he’s gone, those who knew him best will fill the hole he’s left behind by reminiscing about:
– his endless culinary expertise, especially with breads, custards, and smoked
meats
– his gusto for kitchen gadgets and his insistence on very sharp knives
– the way he listened far more than he talked, but when he spoke, he always
said something worth listening to
– his night-owl ways which left him awake and ready to connect, especially
during those late-night teen years
– the way he’d quietly rescue us whenever we got into trouble—everything
from digging through Wendy’s trash bags for a lost retainer, pulling cars
from ditches, to fighting off a quarter-ton sow charging a very pregnant
Kathleen
– his willingness to save fresh-born piglets via mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,
and let his children name them Barbara Mandrell and Squiggy
– the slow, thoughtful way he’d pack his pipe
– his sparkling blue eyes which seemed to twinkle when he laughed
– and his giant hands, which sought perfection in everything he touched.

He is survived by his wife Kathleen, children: Christopher (Kate McCarron) of Kansas City, Missouri; Sara (Steve Fields) of Medina, Minnesota; Amanda (Eric Ruback) of Clarendon Hills, Illinois, his sister, Cindy (Dick) Cram, and a multitude of nieces and nephews. Together, his children gave him nine grandchildren: Grace (Isaac), Olivia (Corie), Hadley, River, Addison, Doran, Sebastian, Selby, and Brooks. His parents, Joseph and Helena (Struve) preceded him in death.