We bade a fond farewell to my grandmother Judy Borseth on July 12. My stepfather Dave presided over the memorial service at Acacia Cemetery in Shoreline.
Judy's three surviving children (Jay, Judy Anne and Jeri) and many other relatives attended.
The service was followed by a reception at the Sons of Norway Hall in Stanwood, Washington, where Judy was born ninety-five years ago. She spoke only Norwegian at home until she went to school, and her speech retained a Scandinavian lilt long after she switched to the more or less exclusive use of English and swapped her birth name "Hjordis" for the more euphonious "Judy".
Uncle Jay read a moving poem he composed for the occasion.
We shared many reminiscences of Grandma--many humorous, many touching, many both--from her youth growing up during the Roaring 20s and the Depression, to her devoted career as a wife, mother and somewhat maniacal cleaner, to her golden years as a surprisingly intrepid traveler and enthusiastic Scrabble maven.
And all of us who ever enjoyed an afternoon receiving a Scrabble education at the hands of Grandma and her lexicon of extremely obscure words appreciated this high-scoring final tribute: