Welcome all.
My condolences to Lois for losing her partner and to Aunt Nancy, Uncle Buddy and my Mom for losing their much loved father.
I am in good spirits, all things considered, and am happy I can be here today with you all. It’s not often
that our whole family comes together like this. Thank you all for being here.
Lori and I welcomed our son Nico into the world this fall. New arrivals are a time for reflection so I have been wondering what my influence on Nico will be, what his influences on the wor
ld will be, etc. I also have been reflecting on who has influenced me.
I am an architect and my career, together with the love and good times my family provides me, leave me extremely fulfilled. Grandpop, too had once aspired to be an architect. I can’t recall the exact reason why Grandpop didn’t head to architecture school, but I think I can safely speculate that as a high school grad in the economically depressed 1930s and son the of an immigrant farmer several years away at school would not have been possible. Looking out across this audience it is hard to believe how high Grandpop and his Jensen/Petersen clan have lifted us in two generations’ time.
Grandpop was a huge influence on me becoming an architect, not just through his support but also through his gift to me via mom to think technically. A common gift to a young architect is often a Frank Lloyd Wright picture book or a magazine with a popular interview with a star architect like Frank Gehry. But Grandpop for years has been feeding me architecture detail articles from Popular Mechanics and local real estate offering plans complete with floor plans and asking prices. In turn, when I’d wrap a Christmas present for him in a recycled blueprint from my office, he would actually read it before he moved on to the present. As if the drawing were the important part of the gift.
When we’d happen by a new house under construction Grandpop wouldn’t admir
e it from the street. He’d walk right up to and into the place. We’d investigate the concrete basement amongst discarded nails, and bare walls walls. Imagine the rules we were breaking by doing that? But a sharp dressed man in a cap, necktie, and dress shoes (galoshes if it was raining) with a firm handshake and confident “how do you do” is granted a certain license in these situations. He was the definition of a proud man.
While Grandpop may have been a good technical thinker he was a great visitor. And these visits to construction sites are just one example. I’m sure many a person in this room experienced a visit from Grandpop. If you were a friend, family member, or grocery store owner in the greater Hartford area, you were on his circuit. His midsized American sedan would pull and in he would come. At our house and when the restaurant was still open he’d come bearing the gift of ice cream. Later at my first job for a firm in Hartford a visit would include handshakes all around. His hat, when indoors, was always in hand. When he’d leave the office our receptionist would say, “what a handsome man.” Granted he was a much younger then…79.
My first recollection of a funeral is the one we held for Grandpop’s wife, my Grandma Osa Jensen. In 1981, she died too young. Grandpop’s passing was sadly sudden but not altogether unexpected. We should all be so lucky to live and be loved for nearly 90 years and to meet our great grandchildren.
At the risk of undryin
g my eyes I’d like to say to Grandpop. “Rest in peace. It gives m
e great comfort and warmth to know that you are, as we gather here, visiting with those who have passed before you. Hugs to grandma. We will miss you.”
