Ann Mcfall
Vern Brower was more like an uncle to me than those I am related to. His wide open smile, the friendly way he greeted everyone, and his genuine nature are absolutely unforgettable. It is hard to think of many people as truly good-natured as Vern. I especially remember decades of 4th of July celebrations at my childhood home with barbecue potlucks, some chilly swimming in Lake Michigan, and campfires on the beach with s’mores. Winter was always magical at the Brower’s home. We all went snowmobiling in the blueberry field, he took everyone out on his horse-drawn sleigh, and us kids would run around and play in the quiet, snow-covered rows of bushes. I was hopelessly slow at any blueberry-related work, and I have one memory of Vern letting me know that it was time to pick up the pace. He was so patient and kind about it—I cry to think of it now—and nothing could have inspired me more to try my best. Our families went to Chicago and Frankenmuth together, enjoyed many dinners together, and the adults promised to take care of each other’s children, should the worst happen. We really were like extended family. I will miss Vern’s wonderfully honest and friendly nature. He expected the best intentions of others, and no one could ever go wrong expecting the same of him.
