The last surviving daughter of immigrants from France and Switzerland, a child and young woman of New England, and a housewife and mother of Oregon. In her 93-plus years, Ann Perkins brought parts of all these worlds into her life and the lives of those around her.

She was born in January 1903 in the rocky hills of Vermont, where her father, Emile, and mother, Marianne, moved to escape the milk fever that had already killed four of their five infant children. Ann was the next to last of the 12 children, and she outlived all of them.

"Horsey Ann," Stamford, Vt.

She spoke French on the farm, and learned English from her older siblings. Ann kept parts of her family's native tongue throughout her life, mingling favorite phrases - c'est bon - in her conversation.

Her mother died when she was 15. When she was 16, she moved to live with her older sister Lydia in Connecticut, where she worked in a drug store. She eventually trained in the Midwest as a physiotherapist and traveled with friends to the Chicago Worlds Fair, quite an adventure for a young, single woman in 1932.

In 1934, she met Grandpa. Eugene Perkins was working for the Department of Agriculture at the time and had moved into the Bridgeport, Conn., boarding house where Ann lived. He courted her for about a year, and they eloped to Harrison, New York in 1935, where the wait to be married was only 48 hours instead of one week in Connecticut. ''I guess I was the last country boy that came along and she decided to marry me,'' Grandpa said. The truth, Grandma used to say, was that Grandpa married her for her car. On their first morning back from New York, Grandma woke and found that Grandpa had already taken the car to work. Grandma walked that day.

Peter was born in 1936, followed by Alan in 1938 and Jim in 1939. Eight months after Jim's birth, Ann's family changed worlds once again, moving across the continent, by train, to live with Gene's mother Lou Griffin and other members of his family in Klamath Falls, in Oregon. World War II brought the family to Portland, where Gene served his country by building ships in the shipyards.

Ann Perkins, 1950

They settled in Portland, first in defense housing in North Portland, then on a lot a few blocks north of here that Gene purchased. There they built the house we have all come to know as their home. Ann carried her New England ways with her, seeking out every Eastern accent as a potential friend. She instilled New England manners in her sons, taught them respect and love. A snap of the fingers followed any misbehavior; poor dinner manners were reprimanded in French; ''cochon,'' she would say to the child who dared eat too fast or stuff his mouth. When guests came calling, she would invite them to dinner and tell her children not to eat any extra meat so the guest could share in their meal.

She taught them responsibility. They had chickens and a goose in Klamath Falls, and Peter would feed them, with Ann's help, of course. As they handed out feed, the goose would mosey around behind Ann and ready for his charge, only to be foiled by Peter screaming, "Momma, look out!" She didn't have much protection from the bantam chicken they had in Portland. My dad, Alan, recalls the welts Grandma endured when the rooster would peck and claw at her ankles. "She'd be threatening to kill that bird," my dad remembers, and I'm sure she enjoyed the soup he became.

She was gentle, not demanding, but she got her points across somehow. She was never outspoken. When her children got in trouble at school, she would stand up for them. When Grandpa got out of line, she brought him back with her standard, "Okay, Charlie," using his father's name in vain.

In her later years she was active in the Order of Eastern Star and the Order of Amaranth. Gene and Ann were members for 40 years. They attended church regularly and shared a love of God and Christ. Grandma was an avid reader; they took almost every magazine available, from ''Vermont'' to ''Reader's Digest.'' She played solitaire, and nobody minds that in the later years she would cheat just so she could win more often.

Above all, her life was her family. She devoted herself to her husband, to her children. She would scratch their backs, and she never tired of holding and rubbing their hands. When Gene's mother, Lou, was dying of cancer in Klamath Falls, Ann went and cared for her for 10 weeks. She hadn't spent much time with Lou in the short time they lived in Klamath Falls, but she was family, and that bond stood true.

Her sons rewarded her love with eight grandchildren, and we in turn have given her nine great-grandchildren.

If we have a lasting memory of Ann Perkins, it was how she would greet us, kissing us on each cheek in the French style, saying ''Je vous aime, je vous adore.' I love you, I adore you.

Je vous aime, je vous adore, grandmere.