From smaf@mitec.net Thu Feb 15 12:59:32 2001 Date: Wed, 7 Feb 2001 10:32:18 -0600 From: sarafoxley To: Matthew W Gress Subject: Fw: eulogy [ The following text is in the "iso-8859-1" character set. ] [ Your display is set for the "US-ASCII" character set. ] [ Some characters may be displayed incorrectly. ] Hi Matthew. Mary just sent this to me. Keep in touch. Love, Mom -----Original Message----- From: Mary Radford To: Sara Foxley Date: Tuesday, February 06, 2001 11:54 AM Subject: eulogy When someone has died it is so important to tell how that person has given. I am here to tell you all how Peg has given to me. When I was younger, starting at the age of 6, 7, 8, my family would come to Minnesota to gather with the extended family. My great grandmother, Mom Conroy, my great aunt Peg, my grandmother Eileen, my great uncles and many other aunts uncles and cousins would all meet at the Conroys. We were coming to Minnesota because of the solid rock foundation of simple every day life the women, who lived in the house by the lake, provided. We were all coming to take what Emerson said was the best in life. He said, ³The most extra ordinary experiences in life is what makes it all worth while.² We were all coming to experience the roots from which we came and the simple traditions that were being lived in the house by the lake. The things that were everyday life to Peg. My most vivid memories of Peg are of she baking bread, sheet of cookies and her famous pies. To this day I can still feel the grass and the stickers under my feet as I ran down to the lake, after having eaten a tuna fish sandwich with Pegıs bread. As I ran down to the lake, after having eaten my sandwich, I always had a plumb or perhaps grapes in my hand, as I had already spared enough time away from the water. As I ran down to the lake, I always knew that the women in the house behind me. were watching me feel my joy. In the back of my mind I always knew there was a pie in the workings for that nights desert. There was always controversial discussion as to weather or not the children should have a piece of that pie...The question was as to weather or not the children would understand the true value of that pie. While the adults were discussing weather or not someone of my early years was worthy of eating that pie, I knew at that moment that it was not just the pie, it was the heart and soul that went into it and the soil from which the rhubarb came. But, perhaps more importantly, it was the simple, reliable life that went on around those rhubarb stalks. I can still feel Peg keeping a watchful eye, as she mowed the lakeside lawn, while we swam and fished. I can still feel the confidence in knowing that she would always be there to tell me a story of her younger years. She told me that Pop, my great grandfather, never wanted the girls to work on the farm because their school work was more important. She told me of the time she was in the Womenıs Army Corp. and she interviewed the German soldiers. She advised me to put a drop of water on the freshly baked cookies in order to keep them moist. Peg loved to go to Minnesota Twins games. Peg also enjoyed putting nickels in the slot machines. The last summer I spent with Peg I was fortunate enough to have my son, Peter, be old enough to remember her. He too got to see Peg bake bread, cookies and pies. He too got to go to a Minnesota Twins game with her. One summer day my son and I spent the afternoon in Pegıs basement, as there was a tornado warning. Peg had plenty of cookies for us and did a wonderful job of steering us through with her weather radio. My son got to see Peg come speedily across the lawn, down to the lake, and patiently remind us, once again, to wear our life jackets in the boat. I thank Peg for taking care of the place that my family calls ³The Lake.² I thank her for providing all the memories that the lake conjures up inside of me. I thank Peg for sharing her life with me and my son. Each spring I bake a pie in Pegs honor. I always want my friends to share this pie with me. They ask, ³ Why do you make us eat this pie?² I explain, ³ Eating rhubarb pie brings me back to my best time.² It brings me back to the time that the strong Irish women , who lived in the house by the lake, afforded me. I am so glad my son got to meet and spend time with Peg in her space. I am so glad that my son had a piece of Pegıs pie. Thank you Peg.