Dear Kate and Riley,
I have SO much to catch up on. My laptop died thanks to a newly mobile Brady who unplugged it while in stealth mode and it decided to never start again. My desktop doesn't like blogger for some reason so I finally suckered Dad into bringing home his laptop from work so I could catch up a little!
In September--
Grandpa Great (aka Grandpa Hansen, aka Russel) passed away
We headed up to Salt Lake for the FOURTH time this year for his funeral. It was a beautiful event where my Aunt Kathy and my Dad spoke and gave wonderful talks remembering my Grandfather.
The things I'll always remember about my Grandfather--
-- his beautiful garden. I loved nothing more than to visit their back yard in the spring/summer when the flowers were blooming. To eat the pears (oh the pears), the apricots, the raspberries, the apples, I could go on. He worked so hard and carefully in that garden, he was just a worker.
--always reading, always had a book to talk about, always up on current events
-- waking up in the morning (I lived there one summer and spent many weekends there) to the sound of Grandfather playing his harmonica
--his TV commentary. Oh I don't know if any of my siblings or cousins share this memory (as I'm sure they do the others) but I thought watching TV with my Grandfather was an utterly amusing experience. He had these total no nonsense tell it as you see it comments about everything. I remember him talking about Kelly Ripa being so fat and pregnant, Oprah gaining weight, the terrible singers on American Idol. Maybe they are one of those "you had to be there" things but I loved watching tv with him. And I think i can thank my grandparents for my loves of both Amazing Race and Dr. Phil (although they watched him in his Oprah days not his own show days)
And really, my cousin,
Megan who is much more eloquent than I am, said everything I wanted to on her blog so I'm copying it more so I have it here than because I think anyone else wants to read it! Just replace "my mother" for my Aunt Kathy and "my uncle Ross" for my Dad and I think you have it...
The service was wonderful and yet another reminder at how they give us each an opportunity to celebrate the accomplishments of life, and to bask in each other's company. I love my family. I am so thankful that we can pick up right where we left off (which happened to be only 8 weeks ago.) As the family walked into the service we were greeted with lovely harmonica music - a passion of my grandfathers'. My mother gave the eulogy and she was beautiful and eloquent. She told stories of my grandfather's hard upbringing and how he was able to shed a somewhat rough life and start a new one with my grandmother. He was a master gardener and we all obsessed over the fruits and vegetables that he would grow. He always had a book that he was reading - this obsession with reading stems from both my grandmother (who would like to come back in her next life as a librarian) and my grandfather. Following the eulogy, the grandchildren were coerced into singing - we did this ONLY because our grandmother requested it of us, and all said a silent prayer that the congregation would forgive us our singing shortcomings - I think everyone had a secret plan to just start crying so they could blame the Tone Def-ness on the tears.My uncle Ross also spoke. He gave several wonderful stories and managed to even work a river-rafting story in complete with a nudist colony as one of the elements of the story. (It also occurred to me that he is similar to my Father-in-law when it comes to outings and NOVICES. "It's just a small _____ (insert torture of choice: hike, canoe, raft, walk, swim, biking) expedition." The next thing you know - you're scaling the side of a mountain...He quoted poetry a favorite in the Hansen family - where anything other than a degree in English - is ridiculous! He spoke of my Grandfather's favorite poem by Myrna Welch "The Touch of the Master's Hand". I'm sure that as everyone sat and listened to him, they also tried to see how much of the poem they could recall from memory - without having to turn the program over to check their lines. It's a status symbol to be able to throw down on the poems ya know. A sister in the ward sang "Goin' Home" and it was stunningly beautiful. It made me think who I could recruit for my own funeral to sing such sweet, beautiful, comforting lines to those in attendance. Funerals are like that - they make you reflect on your own. (Taylor and I have ours all planned out - I prefer Invictus for my poetry- Scatter Sunshine for my hymn - and we both would like a tasty machaca throw-down dinner to follow - in case anyone is interested.)Thanks for letting me steal that Megan :)
I hope that you were there to greet your great Grandfather with open arms. I have visions of him gardening in a garden with no weeds and where the flowers always bloom. Love,Mom
