Spicer is Nicer

Heading out to Spicer Friday for Uncle Ole's funeral.

My uncle turned 90 in May, and we were all up there for the big celebration. He died on Tuesday, with his (gardening) boots on - the way he would have wanted to go - assuming he wanted to go. Those of us left behind find comfort in that.

He was a big, kind guy, that's what I'll remember most. Was a carpenter most of his life, and looked the part. He taught me to fish, and still had a Norwegian accent - like lots of old people in more rural areas of the state. Everytime we visited we said grace in Norwegian before each meal. I can almost say it myself, though I'm not really sure what it meant - something about "many thanks" - "Mange Takk". The prayer had a cadence like the old song, Mairzy Doats and Dozy Doats, etc.

Taking the kids. We talked about it last night before bed, the funeral, casket, cemetery, etc. They seemed pretty interested and not too upset. They are kind of amazed that they knew an actual 90 year old - he's probably the oldest human they knew. They both want to stand by me since they don't want to see Mom get all upset. Great, that means I can't!

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