by George Peterson, son of Mamie – Julina

Grandpapa blessed me as a baby but that memory is mainly hearsay—sorry.
He seemed large to me and very kind. We grandchildren were treated as his
own.

Peppermint candies seemed always available in his coat pocket and often
licorice “nibs.”

I have a clear recollection of sitting on one of his knees with Mary on the
other as he played a game with us, making lots of paper bits disappear from
his fingertips. This was in the “parlor” left of the east entrance of the
Beehive House.

We rode in the big white Packard from home to the Beehive House. I recall
the family picture being taken on the lawn behind the Beehive House. Mary
and I went with Marjory to see him in his southeast corner office in the
Church Office Building.

We had dinner with him sitting at the north end of the dining room table
several times.

I remember him being in our home and that he often wore a white suit.

I remember vaguely the casket in the Beehive House, but it was snowing at
the time. The morning he died, Mama came to my bed and told me and I
cried.

I can remember Aunt Emily playing “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles” on the
player piano in the living room.

I watched the circus parade from the upstairs balcony of South Temple.

I can remember Uncle Wesley taking me home in a black car after I had
marched after the West High Cadet Band with my little drum about to Aunt
Mary’s home on North Temple.

I can remember the Big Black car and the old barn that served as a garage
and Carrie, the Beehive housekeeper.