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It is my honor to be able to say a few words about the wonderful life of my friend and mother-in-law Margaret Vasey, whom we've gathered to celebrate and memorialize today. She is someone I have been blessed to know for over half of her 95-year-life, and most of mine. During our University High School years I knew her simply as Mary's mother.

The basic facts of Margaret's life are available to you from the description in the folder. She was born on a farm near Oskaloosa, Iowa, in 1910, the daughter of Charles and Janette France. The couple's seven children — five brothers and two sisters — were all blessed with good genes and good minds. Only two of the seven — Howard and Keith — pre-deceased Margaret. Each of the seven graduated from college. Sister Mildred and brothers Jim, Warren and Dick are still with us, and Jim has traveled to be here today.

In Oskaloosa Margaret attended high school and Penn College, then graduated from Denver University and went on for a masters degree from Rutgers. She and Wayne were married in 1933.

Warren ended up operating the family farm, and brother Jim has written a wonderful account of their life there, called Growing Up on an Iowa Farm, a copy of which is on a table here somewhere. Jim and Betty often traveled with Margaret and Wayne, and contributed to some ferocious bridge games.

Margaret was blessed with a natural beauty, a sharp mind, a keen wit, a competitive spirit, mother's love, a family loyalty, a grace and charm, and athletic prowess.

Her great spirit, as evidenced during her college years, recently prompted brother Warren to tell his daughter, Lynn, 'Margaret and her friend Eleanor sure brought Penn College into the Twentieth Century!' He provided no further details.

Indeed, 25 years ago, as I finally came to articulate what I characterize as 'the natural superiority of women,' Margaret was the source of much of the overpowering evidence of that truth.

In addition to Margaret's obituary, I found a piece about a Margaret France that described her as 'a woman of strong intellect, and tireless energy and determination. A devoted mother, who spent the best of her life in caring for her family. She had a kindly word for all."

However, this Margaret France was our Margaret's grandmother. Margaret McKelvey France. She was born in Tennessee in 1844, moved to Iowa and the family farm in Oskaloosa, and died there in 1908 -- two years before our Margaret was born on that same farm.

I mention this for a couple of reasons. The qualities of this remarkable family seem to have been passed down from generation to generation. What was written about Margaret McKelvey France is just as descriptive of our Margaret. Secondly, it's worth noting that these Frances have been in America for quite awhile — long before the Revolutionary War. Peter France II was born in Pennsylvania in 1751. Moreover, Frances are extraordinarily modest about that fact. Margaret was not the type to join the Daughters of the American Revolution, and never mentioned this heritage to me.

George Washington France was the first France to settle in Iowa. In 1860 he came by boat down the Ohio River, up the Mississippi, and then proceeded to walk from the banks of the Mississippi to Mahaska County, some 100 miles cross country — kind of like finding your bike has a flat tire during the RAGBRAI ride. He married Margaret McKelvey, and later bought the farm that would be our Margaret's ' and my Mary's — birthplace.

Everyone remembers Margaret as being focused and constantly on the move. Running up and down stairs; going through her daily 'to-do' list, often by 9:00 in the morning. Margaret was not a sitter. When she and Wayne would come to visit their daughter Mary and Bill Grubbe, Mary and Bill's kids — Joel, Jason, Karl and Robin ' would have to scamper to clean their rooms. If they didn't, 'GM,' as they called Margaret — whether short for 'Grandma Margaret' or 'General Motors' was never clear — would do it for them. I recall dinners in Florida when she would have the table cleaned and the dishes done before I'd even finished my third bowl of ice cream.

Margaret was never at a loss for friends. Everyone immediately took to her. And one of those friends was Evie Chapman. Evie's husband, Gene, was a professional golfer who, it was said, could play 18 holes using nothing but a putter — and win. In fact, Andi, and her scratch golfer husband Joe Day, think he may have been the inspiration for the movie, 'Tin Cup.' I was smart enough never to play golf with Gene — or Joe — but foolish enough to accept Margaret's suggestion that we play a round.

Given Margaret's slim, muscular body, and ability to stand on her head, I really should have known better. But her athletic prowess didn't fully hit me until that first golf game. It was on a course near Pinecrest, the independent living facility in Largo, Florida, where she then lived.

She was in her 80s, I was considerably younger. Thankfully, the score card has long since disappeared. But the only real difference between that game and going a round with Gene was that Margaret used all the clubs. As I recall, we never played again.

She did have two other quite awesome qualities. One was that she was a voracious reader. That would not have been so bad but for the fact she remembered everything she read. In fact, the only thing worse is that she passed both of these qualities on to Dan and Mary. Dan began, alas, with the Encyclopedia Britannica — which did, however, make him very useful before the creation of the Internet.

As a poet and writer, she was especially pleased with grandson Alec's increasing proficiency as a writer.

As you might suspect, anyone with Margaret's education, reading and vocabulary would be a natural for Scrabble. If Arthur Bonfield is here perhaps Sandy Boyd or Charlie Davidson can explain to him what I mean when I say Margaret was to the Scrabble board what Texas' Vince Young is to the football field. Nona and Mary were two of her competitors. They claim they once beat her. I don't believe it. She could think more moves ahead on a Scrabble board than Garry Kasparov on a chess board. I'd rather play her in golf.

In addition to her writing, she was also a musician. In fact, Dan contributed the music books of hers from which Jill Hensen, our pianist today, selected some pieces that Margaret used to play. Joey Walker, the Hospice music therapist who's also playing for us today, delighted Margaret with her singing and playing at Crestview.

Margaret was a stickler for names, including every one of the wonderful folks at Crestview regardless of their function. She somehow managed to keep straight the names and careers of nieces, nephews, children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, as well as their partners, and was always inquiring after them.

Even when it was difficult for her to get from Crestview to our house for family birthday and holiday gatherings, she'd be there. She loved seeing Kate, Julie, Laura, Sara and Nia and the rest of the tribe at family gatherings. Never complaining, always attentive and complementary to others, seeing the humor and responding with that infectious laugh that Joel and Karl remember always starting them laughing as well.

Family was important to Margaret. She loved Mary and Dan's children and grandchildren — and my children and grandchildren — and followed their careers. She and Wayne went all the way to Papua, New Guinea, to visit Dan and Greer and their children, Natasha and Gregory. They followed Jason's acting career and traveled to see him as Sancho in Man of LaMancha, to be there for Natasha's graduation from Grinnell and Gregory's senior show at Luther. They admired Joel's talent as an artist and cartoonist and, given Margaret's skill as a gardener, Karl's application of his agronomy degree to the production of flowers and vegetables in the rocky soil of Alma, Colorado. And the family reciprocated. Nephew Chuck, with Cynthia and Nathan, made regular trips to Florida. Chuck's videos are some of our most precious memories of Margaret and her siblings. One of them is playing here today.

Near the end, Sherman and Pati (who were visiting from Washington), Gregory, Alexander and I stopped out to see her at Crestview. She was tired, even seeming not to recognize us.

But the next day she commented to Mary, her daily visitor for three years, how striking Sherman was. She'd noticed.

As Mary would reassure me about my visits to Margaret when I'd find her sleeping, "You can just wake her with a tap on the shoulder and she'll be alert with a smile for you."

We miss her. We are inspired by her. And we thank you for being with us here today.