Fern L. Browne

A Celebration of the Life of Fern Browne 

Today, we gather to celebrate the life of Fern Browne. 

Fern was born on April 9, 1937, in Holton, Kansas, to Bertha Marie Morris and Seaman Peregrine. She grew up on a farm alongside her five siblings: Morris Peregrine, Richard Peregrine, Elna Gross, Virginia Partridge, and Sharon Mayne. 

Her childhood took place during the Great Depression, a time of hardship for many families. But Fern often said that her family was fortunate. They lived on a farm, and they always had food to eat. They may not have had many toys, but they always found ways to have fun. They rode calves, swam in the pond, made dolls, explored, and made the most of what they had. 

And then there was the walk to school. According to the stories, it was long, through the snow, and without boots. You know—the kind of walk that was probably uphill both ways. 

But they didn't give up. 

Her father held an especially special place in her heart. She often said that nobody would ever love her the way her dad loved her. 

Fern carried many of the lessons from her childhood throughout her life: work hard, be grateful, and treat others the way you would want to be treated. 

She married young and had four children with her first husband, Ervin Dean Wales: Shannon, her oldest daughter; Richard; Rodney; and Denice. 

When that marriage ended, Fern moved to Colorado with her children for a new beginning. It wasn't always easy. Her father helped provide a house, Fern went to work, and the family made do. 

For eight years, they didn't have a car. Fern took the bus to work, and the family walked—to church and just about everywhere else they needed to go. Even after they finally got a car, they mostly saved it for the weekends. 

And Fern didn't just walk. She competed. 

On the walk home from church, she would race her children uphill. Apparently, even after church, there was still time to prove who was the fastest. 

Later, Fern married Ronald Edward Nelson, and together they welcomed her fifth child, Ronnie, the baby of the family. 

For a time, they lived on a farm, which was familiar territory for Fern. They raised chickens, rabbits, and ducks. She taught her children how to care for the animals, how to butcher them, and how to cook what they raised. She planted a large garden, and they would bring home as much as seven gallons of fresh milk a week. 

Eventually, they moved back into town and bought their first home. It was another new beginning and another home filled with children, hard work, and family. 

That marriage eventually ended as well, but Fern continued forward. 

As the years passed, Shannon, Richard, Rodney, Denice, and Ronnie grew up and began lives of their own. Shannon married, Richard joined the Marines, and eventually, one by one, the children began leaving the nest. 

Then came the grandchildren. 

And Grandma made time for them. 

Several of her grandchildren lived with her at different times throughout the years, and many spent summers staying with her. Those years created memories and relationships that continued long after they were children. 

As her grandchildren grew older, the sleepovers and summers may have changed, but the time together continued. Lunch dates, frequent visits, and simply spending time together became part of the relationship. 

And as the family continued to grow, so did those relationships. The love and time she gave to her grandchildren extended naturally to her great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren. 

She was able to watch generations of her family grow, and many were fortunate enough not only to know her, but to truly spend time with her. 

And when there was something to do, somewhere to go, or someone who needed help, Fern was there. 

Although, if you needed help with the dishes, you might want to be careful. 

Fern took dishwashing seriously. Her favorite chore was washing dishes, and she believed in using bleach. Her dishes may very well have been the cleanest dishes on the planet.

And if you didn't wash them correctly, there was a good chance you would hear about it. 

Her standards were high. 

Throughout her life, Fern worked hard. She worked as a security guard and later worked for Social Services and the City of Denver. She helped place children into homes and remove them from unsafe situations. She was also involved in starting the Child Support Enforcement Agency for the City of Denver. 

She spent much of her life giving her time to others. She volunteered at her church weekly, helping serve food and assisting with funerals. For more than five years, she volunteered with the Veteran Wives Conference, traveling to Tennessee and South Carolina. 

When a friend's daughter died in an accident, Fern's heart was broken. She walked in her memory every year until she was physically unable to continue. 

She also looked after the people around her. As neighbors in her building grew older and could no longer drive, Fern would take them to the grocery store. 

She called family members. She checked on people. She went to lunch. She stayed connected. 

Fern was an avid reader, a quilter and sewer, a gardener, and someone who loved being outside. She especially loved walking around Sloan's Lake. When it was too cold to walk outside, she did the stairs instead. 

Fern credited her good health to not smoking or drinking, walking, and drinking plenty of water. 

Considering that she outlived almost everyone in her building except for one person, she may have known what she was talking about. 

She loved God, her family, and her country. She proudly flew her flag and always voted. Her faith was important to her, and she taught her children to love God, work hard, and live by a simple rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. 

To Fern, it was pretty simple: Be nice. Don't judge. That was God's work. 

Fern's life was filled with great love, but also great loss. She lost her oldest daughter, Shannon, to cancer and her son, Richard, to a heart attack. 

She also experienced the heartbreak of losing two grandchildren. One was lost to illness, and another went missing. The uncertainty and heartbreak surrounding her missing grandchild weighed heavily on her mind and caused her tremendous worry and stress. 

These losses stayed with her. She carried them with her, just as she carried the love, she had for each of them. 

She was also deeply affected by the loss of Bradley Appelhans. She especially missed his Friday phone calls. He called her every Friday to check on her, and even after he was gone, she continued to talk about how much she missed those calls. 

Family and staying connected mattered to Fern. 

After raising her children and eventually retiring, Fern began another chapter of her life. She moved downtown and embraced apartment living. She loved the social life, the people, and a little bit of the glitz and glamour. 

And, of course, she walked everywhere. 

It was during this chapter of her life that she met her third husband, Harold—Hal—Browne. Together, Fern and Hal walked, traveled, and enjoyed life. They took trips around the world and spent time with their large blended family. 

Christmas at Fern and Hal's penthouse became something special. They set beautiful tables, ordered wonderful dinners, gathered everyone together, and Hal made handmade woodworking gifts for the family. 

Between Fern's five children and Hal's five children—and then their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren—there were a lot of people and a lot of family. 

And Fern loved having them around. 

If you asked her what her name was, she would proudly tell you: “Fern Browne—with an E!” 

She had her own style, too. 

Fern didn't like leaving the house without lipstick and her earrings. She wore clip-on earrings and made sure she was ready before heading out. 

And her keys? Those were clipped to her pants. 

That way, she wouldn't lose them or lock herself out. She loved the color white, although her favorite color was green. She loved fruits and vegetables, although sometimes dinner might consist of a side of mashed potatoes. 

And she loved McDonald's French fries and McDonald's coffee. 

If there was a game of checkers or spades, Fern was ready. She had a competitive side and could definitely hold her own. 

After Hal passed away, Fern faced more difficult days and health challenges. 

But she carried on. 

Today, we celebrate the life of a woman whose story began on a farm in Kansas and continued through nearly nine decades of family, work, faith, friendship, loss, new beginnings, and love. 

From raising five children—Shannon, Richard, Rodney, Denice, and Ronnie—to welcoming grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren, Fern built relationships that stretched across generations. 

She gave her family her time. She gave her community her time. And she left behind stories that will continue to be told. 

The stories of long walks. Racing her children uphill. The cleanest dishes on the planet. Summer visits and lunch dates with her grandchildren. Christmases in the penthouse. Lipstick and clip-on earrings. Her keys clipped safely to her pants. 

And, of course— Fern Browne, with an E. 

And while we will miss her, I like to think that somewhere today, she is with God, still walking that golden road. 

Maybe with her lipstick on, her earrings clipped in place, and knowing Fern, perhaps walking just fast enough to win the race.