Grandma Bev Peterson...

I hate that I don't have a digitalized picture of Mike's grandma to post with this entry, I've always just had them printed. Mike's mom's mom died three weeks ago yesterday. She had been not as well, health-wise, as she has been in the past, though the warmth of her eyes and smile never faded. Her services were two weeks ago, a time of gathering of family from California, Iowa, Wisconsin, and all over the Twin Cities.

The funeral itself was sad, yes, but such a celebration of her life. It was held at the church she had attended for many years, the church Mike and I were married in, and her pastor knew and loved Grandma Peterson and spoke so well of her. Many of the grandkids were involved in the service.

At one point in the service, time was given to family members who shared memories of time spent with Grandma Peterson. As most of you know, I can't speak in public to begin with, let alone during such an emotional time, being the emotional sap that I am, but if I could have, or better yet now that I can, this is what I would share: in 1997, when Mike and I had not even been dating a year, we somehow managed to get in on each other's family Christmases. In the Schroeder household, they celebrate with the Petersons on Christmas Eve and the Schroeders on Christmas Day. I had met all the extended family at this point, probably on more than one occasion, in that they all lived so near. I sat sort of awkwardly by during the gift exchanging, not known well enough yet, not having spent enough time to really have proved myself as a girlfriend. All of a sudden a small box was passed my way. "To Megan, from Grandma Peterson" written on the tag. Inside was a small frame with a cherub on it. I looked up to find Mike's grandma, probably tried to catch her eye, smiled politely or embarrassed, and I think I did hug her at least once. Mike later shared with me that his Grandma did not have a tremendous amount of money to be spending, she did not give lavish gifts, and the gifts she did give were frugle and small. He too had been surprised that she would have given me, just the recent girlfriend, a gift that first Christmas.

But that was so Grandma Peterson. She accepted you unassumingly and graciously. She made you feel welcome, even if it wasn't assured that you would be there in a few months. She was a truly godly woman, loving everyone that came into her path with such gentle persistence. Even when it might not have been yet appropriate, she gave me a gift. I might be so bratty as to say that maybe she knew something about me and Mike that even we didn't know at that time, but that would be stretching. I think she just knew how to love, how to welcome, how to make everyone feel like part of that family in the most appropriate way. I will always be so grateful, so thankful for Grandma Peterson because she was the first of Mike's extremely loving and generous family to make me feel like one of the crew. This is just one of so many great memories that Mike and I will take with us when we think of Grandma Peterson, and maybe I choose to share this one because it's my first poignant one with her. That small frame, such an unassuming gift, will always be special to me.

We'll miss you, Grandma Peterson, but we'll see you soon...

Quintessential autumnal outing...

A couple of weekends ago, friends Alex and Sarah agreed to humor me and accompanied me to a local apple orchard for some fall festivities. Neither Alex, nor Sarah had ever been apple picking before, and I can't believe that their parents would deprive them of such a classic childhood memory; knowing all four of their loving parents, I can't believe this omission was intentional, but still they are without excuse (just kidding Kim, Mike, Martha and Tom).

That Saturday was one of those gorgeous, indian summer days, a breeze blowing, but unseasonally warm. We headed off to Hastings, paid our $2 to get into the orchard, never had to pay to get in before, but that did include unlimited access to the tractor/hay ride shuttle that circled, so I think it was worth it, and meandered thru one of the larger orchards I've encountered.

This outing always brings back vivid memories from childhood. Apple picking in NY before the days of genetically altered trees that only grow to the size of large bushes to eliminate the need, and thus lessen the fun and excitement, to climb trees or use those metal-fingered pickers on the end of a huge pole. The Great Apple Gathering just before Kate and James' wedding when we picked more apples than I've ever seen to fill their table centerpieces with juicy bounty, drank our first cider slushies ( sounds kinda gross, but actually quite tasty), and had apple fights (okay, okay, totally started that one, but really when you lob them, how much do they hurt? And don't you remember that Chip and Dale cartoon: "apple core, who's your friend...?") Grandma Weezie's apple tree behind her house on Lorraine, that she jealously and sometimes callously protects from the Bambi's that venture into her yard? Emma Krumbie's with Mom and Dad, Kate and I think Heather, and Uncle Hans and Ben? Might have been one of the last times I've seen Ben; Ben, where are you?

When Sarah, Alex, and I had picked our two bags worth, maybe even a few forbidden fruit off of some trees that were marked "no picking" on one end of a row, but we were on the other end, and how were we supposed to know we weren't supposed to pick them? We sat waiting for our hay covered limousine near the electric-fence boundary of the orchard and listened to a family banter. Mom, dad, son, and at least one daughter. The son has having a conversation with I think his sister, that went something like this: "Know what would be the best gift ever, maybe even for all of my birthdays and Christmases to come? If you would go and hold on to that fence for 20 seconds. That would be the best gift ever, that would be glorious!" The kid actually said that, almost verbatim, definitely including the word "glorious." And he was about 6 years old... Magical moment, for sure.

We finished our outing back at my apartment where we baked apple pies with our booty. One went to the U with Alex, where he finished most of it one afternoon after a long day of rugby, one went to the University of Wisconsin at River Falls with Sarah, one went with Kristin to the University of Wisconsin Eau Claire, and the last went to Gap. I'm definitely partial to my Grandma Sue's sour cream apple pie recipe, but I think the sour cream scares most people off. Too bad, more pie for me.