Life of Wry

Today is my Grandpa’s birthday.  Were he alive, he’d be 119.  

I Googled him to see exactly when he died and found this:

Here’s what people say who are writing officially about him:

Dr. P. Victor Peterson 
(July 1949-June 1959) 

      Dr. P. Victor Peterson served as the first president of California State University, Long Beach, from 1949 to 1959. 
      When he died in 1979 at the age of 87, the current president of the university, Dr. Stephen Horn, said: “Dr. Peterson was a fortunate man. He had the dedication and energy to begin soundly a great university and to live to see it well underway in meeting the needs of a diverse regional, national, and international population. We shall sorely miss his care and his involvement.” 
      Dr. Peterson was born in 1892 in Hampton, Iowa. He received the degree bachelor of arts (biological science and chemistry) from the University of Northern Iowa and the master of arts and doctor of philosophy degrees (chemistry) from Stanford University. 
      Dr. Peterson had a life-long interest in the study of native California flora; he was the author of Native Trees of Southern California. The university established a fund for the purchase and planting of a grove of native California trees, in his honor. Prior to assuming the presidency of the university (then California State College, Long Beach), he was founder and director of the West Coast School of Nature Study. 
      Among his memberships in community organizations were: the Long Beach Torch Club, United Way, Pacific Hospital, Young Men’s Christian Association, and the Long Beach Rotary Club. 
      His scientific and honor society memberships included Sigma Xi, Delta Sigma Rho, Phi Delta Kappa, Phi Lambda Upsilon, Alpha Omega, and Phi Kappa Phi.

But when I think of him I remember a quiet, proud Dane who sat at the head of table, carved meat and lit candles on our Christmas tree each year, whose home office was a sanctuary of memorabilia and old leather, whose secret recipe for punch was a huge hit with us kids, and who treated each of us with respect and kindness always. I remember, too, how pleased he was when I decided to attend the University of Sweden for a year, and how he and I conversed (not too well) in Danish and Swedish when I came home.  

But my favorite memory of him is this one: grandpa and grandma took us to Knott’s Berry Farm for a day of fun and dinner at the famous Mrs. Knott’s Chicken Dinner Restaurant (chicken dinner with mashed potatoes, homemade white dinner rolls served with their famous jams, and boysenberry pie).

(This was prior to all the roller coaster rides they have now.. in fact, the most thrilling ride at that time was an old fashioned car you could steer around a curvy concrete track.. which of course was extremely thrilling. Thrilling enough for a kiddo. Sigh.)

I, however, got sick and had to forgo Independence Hall, the gold mine, the ghost town, and the thrilling car track. It was my grandpa who went back to sit in the car with me for hours and maybe hours. I guess my grandma ended up with a handful of boy energy.. though maybe it was some subset of brothers, I’m not sure.  

I lay in the back seat, with my head in his lap, while he read to me and told stories. I will always remember that feeling of comfort and love.

Happy Birthday, Grandpa Pete.