Dear Barbara, dear Polly, dear Carol, dear Miles and dear Brian, and all members of the greater Pepper family,

Since we received via George the sad news of Mike’s death last Monday evening, we have gone through the days, thinking of Mike again and again, and the memories of Mike and you, Barbara, and the Pepper family that come to mind are so numerous and so rewarding and leave us with a mix of sadness and “Wehmut,” but also of gratitude and happiness for having known Mike in our minds and hearts.

Just now, when I finally find the peace of mind and the time to write to you and share our thoughts with you, I realize that this is the first letter to the Pepper home in 54 years, actually the first of the many letters written to the peppers that is addressed to you only Barbara and the young generation. And one gets very sad and feels a gap that will never be filled.

We are thinking of you especially, Barbara who went through life, through many decades side by side with Mike, and how much you will miss him.

There are only a few people I have met in my life who stand out because of their character, their presence – and it is never a noisy presence – having raised the certainty in my mind that they will never disappoint us, will always be a model for us and from the first day have raised the sense in us of wishing to be very grateful for what they represent and for what they added to our lives. Mike’s presence in our life was so very special from the first day when we met.

You will remember, Barbara the stormy, dark night in late  fall of 1952 somewhere in the middle of England when someone knocked at the door of the youth hostel in Kings Cliff in the County of Rutland, when the owners of the hostel had already gone to bed. When I opened the door, there were two young people with their hands at the handlebars of their bikes, Mike and Barbara Pepper on their honeymoon trip through Europe You both looked tired and frozen. I took you to the kitchen for a quick bite to eat and some hot tea. You were dead tired, Barbara and soon went upstairs to bed. But Mike and I sat for nearly the rest of the night and talked and talked, reaching a sense of being friends for life before we finally retired for a brief rest – it was 4 o’clock in the morning. I relived these first hours of our friendship this week again and again, as I have done so many times over the past decades.

I had to leave early for my farm job with Mike’s promise that the two of you would visit me and my mother in Würzburg. True to his word, Mike and you, Barbara, appeared in Würzburg several weeks later when I had already given up hope of ever seeing you again.

This was the second time we met, and after the start of mine and Maria’s life in Canada, visits and beautiful hours and days followed for the next decades – Williston comes to mind, and Watford City, Whittier, then almost Denver (we missed you by a few days), and finally the numerous visits to Hidden Valley.

Through all these years, Mike remained true to himself, he followed his way of life which we admired him so much for, he worked to the last year of his life and in everything, he was an example to us, not only how to go though life, but how to keep one’s integrity and follow one’s goals.

Will we miss him? We always will, Barbara, as will everybody of good character who has met Mike. He represented his nation like no one else I can think of. For me, he was the quintessential American I respected and loved. All nations have their faults, but the American people have received too many undeserved criticisms. I cannot count the situations in Canada, and in Europe where Maria stood up and talked about “our American friends, the Peppers,” of Mike and of you Barbara, thi couple and their children we loved and respected as the true example of the true Americans.

I cried more than once during the last few days, but sometimes they were tears of gratitude for everything Mike has given to all of us. You will miss him terribly, Barbara, just as Maria and I will miss Mike. But I am sure, as time goes on, the happy memories, this great, wonderful man left for you and your children and grandchildren and for all of us, will prevail.

Our minds and hearts are with you, Barbara and with all your loved ones.

Love from both of us,

Hi Carol:

Several times I began typing and each time deleted the inadequate words that went onto my screen. At first when I saw the sender of the e-mail I was delighted to hear from you, expecting a nice annual update or an account of some recent adventures. Then instantly that turned to sorrow upon reading of Uncle Mike, or Mike as he allowed me to call him since I was about 6 or 8 on one of our visits to California. It may seem strange to you to read this, because I probably only met him face to face half a dozen or so times in my life, but reading your note I had the feeling that a giant had passed from the scene. He loomed large in my consciousness as a boy. He always seemed to me to embody the true American man – maybe because he looked a bit like Ernest Hemingway with his beard, or maybe his gruff but unwavering kindness and generosity, or his ability to take delight in what others were doing, or his long and varied career, or his large and wonderful family. 

Whatever it was, here I write with tears in my eyes, more of fondness than sorrow. It was such luck to have seen him one more time. I’ll never forget the more distant times when he patiently explained the basics of geology when I was barely in grade school, or when he let me stay up for hours when all the grownups had gone out for the evening, or walking along (and falling into) the river along your cabin in the Sierras, or hiking up to Whitetail Falls, if I still have the name right, then years later him exclaiming, “My God, you look great!” when I arrived as a teen-ager at your house (there couldn’t have been a greater compliment to an awkward teen-ager). And two summers ago, when all of you came to visit, and he was gleefully recounting how he was continuing to go out and pick natural gas drilling locations and making a pretty good buck from those young corporate whipper-snappers who seemed quite grateful for his assistance. 

Wow, what a life.

This must be hardest on your mom but also, perhaps, for the most attached of the grand-kids. Thanks for your very serene and poignant account of Mike’s final hours. 

Deepest condolences from Laurie and me to Barbara, you, Polly, Miles, Brian, and all of the in-laws and grandchildren.

Love from both of us,

George and Laurie

In Spanish, we say "Os acompaño en el sentimiento", I accompany you in feelings and am happy to have shared so much with you and Dad.

Diego joins me in sending you a strong hug and all our love,

Etienne
& Diego