Alberta Jean Perry

Alberta J. Perry died peacefully on October 17, 2014. She is survived by her husband of 58 years, Wayne Perry, her daughter Linda Lauer (Greg), son Greg (Marsha), and five grandchildren: John Lauer, Emily Lauer, Sarah Lauer, Caitlin Perry, and Lauren Perry. Alberta was born on February 15, 1926 in Fort Collins, Colorado to Eva and Leonard Smith. Alberta spent the first years of her life growing up on a cherry orchard north of Fort Collins with her sisters Lois and Betty. Later the Smith family moved to Cheyenne, Wyoming where Alberta attended Jr. and Sr. High school. Because of the war effort, Alberta graduated early and began working as a secretary at Fort Warren in Cheyenne. Alberta went to the University of Wyoming in Laramie earning her teaching certificate in business subjects. Alberta first taught in Glen Rock, Wyoming before moving to Casper, Wyoming and teaching at Natrona County High School. It was in Casper that she met and fell in love with Wayne Perry; they were married on December 18, 1955. After the wedding they moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico where Wayne completed his degree at the University of New Mexico and their daughter Linda was born. In 1959 they moved to Denver and their son Greg was born. Alberta taught typing, shorthand, accounting, and keyboarding at several DPS schools including: Abraham Lincoln, East, Montebello, and West High School. Alberta was very proud of the fact that she was a third generation teacher and was extremely pleased that her daughter and two granddaughters choose to be teachers also. Alberta enjoyed playing cards, especially bridge. She fondly remembered learning bridge from her parents on the farm. At the young age of seven, Berta was part of a foursome. She had a natural sense about cards and enjoyed the competition. Her parents and her sisters, Lois Mosher and Betty Wood (who both died in 2012), preceded her in death. This poem was one of mom's favorite, it always brought a tear as she thought about her mother: She always leaned to watch for us, Anxious if we were late In winter by the window, In summer by the gate. And though we mocked her tenderly, Who had such foolish care, The long way home would seem more safe Because she waited there. Her thoughts were all so full of us, She never could forget! And so I think that where she is She must be watching yet. Waiting till we come home to her, Anxious if we are late, Watching from Heaven's window, Leaning on Heaven's gate. The Watcher by Margaret Widdemer (1884-1978) We love you and will miss you, but we are blessed to know you are watching for us to come home.