Michael Scott Peterson

Michael Scott Peterson, beloved son of Normand Larry and Ruth Steinfeldt Peterson, brother to Mark Normand (died in infancy) and sisters Rebecca and Ramona, died on April 26, in Idaho Falls, Idaho.

He was born on January 30, 1956, in Lynwood, California, the second son and fourth and final child in the Peterson family. At his birth, his father made an announcement at work by posting a note that proclaimed, “Oh joy! Oh joy! A ten-pound boy!” Before he was year old, sitting with his father, he suddenly stood up and walked. As a toddler, he would ride on his father’s shoulders, when they hiked and camped in the Tetons. From the age of two, he grew up in Salt Lake City, Utah, where the family made their home.

Mike was an energetic boy and attended schools in Salt Lake City. While he did not care so much for schoolwork, he did grow up with a love for the outdoors, which made his eventual position as a Scoutmaster a natural one. He became a considerate and helpful young man – traits his Grandfather Peterson had been known for.

From a young age Mike’s naturally mischievous nature, delivered with a sense of fun and a twinkle in his eye, assured a cheerful presence and plenty of humor at any family gathering or group association he participated in. He once pretended to be sleepy and walked to the bottom of a shallow lake in his scuba gear, then seemed to fall asleep at the bottom, with his family looking on!

As an adult, he bought property and settled in Rigby, Idaho, where he spent his working years as a firefighter (hazards engineer) and EMT, auto-mechanic, playful prankster, friendly neighborhood hero, and all-around gentle giant and gentleman.

He was bigger than life, and so were his tales. He would arrive and take off with plenty of lights and noise, awed and charmed kids, and blustered till he drew guffaws from everyone present, but he was always there to do the heavy lifting and give the biggest hugs. A story from his serious side was when, as a scuba diver, he found a young boy who had disappeared in a canal, enabling him to bring closure to the family. Another was when his father watched as he helped a farmer get his harvesting equipment running after three days of being inoperative. The farmer had several of his neighbors helping, to no avail. Michael was brought in and solved the problem quickly.

Mike loved nature, his independence, lasting friendships, his dogs, plenty of meat at every meal, tools and machines, car racing, swimming, the Tetons and the Sawtooths, woodscrafts, motorcycles, and rural life.

He had a way with rescues. He studied to earn the necessary certificates, then practiced and taught scuba rescues, mountaineering and rock rescues, and worked as an EMT, but it was the everyday sort of thing that defined him. He couldn’t see a car in trouble at the side of the road without stopping. He couldn’t hear about a neighbor in need without lending a hand. He never learned about a worthy cause without contributing. Whether family member, neighbor, stranger, or animal, Mike never hesitated to stop and see that the need was met. He gave with no expectation of reciprocity, whether in the quick need of the moment, easily achieved, or in the high hopes of dreams, which may or may not be accomplished. His was a generous spirit, one that struggled, at times, to find the means to share all that he had within him to give.

A member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day-Saints, Michael goes to join his brother Mark Normand Peterson, who died as an infant, and his loving mother, Ruth. He is survived by his father, Normand Peterson, of Salt Lake City, his sister Rebecca Richard (Jerry), of Salt Lake, and Ramona Peterson, in Portland, Oregon, four nieces and nephews, and many cousins.

In this time of physical distancing for everyone’s health and safety, our goodbye to Michael was privately held on Saturday, May 2, 2020. But it is with memories of his hearty hugs, with laughter at some warm-hearted prank or crazy, convivial story, or thanks for some kind deed, that we wish you would honor him, privately, in your own way. More specifically, please show some stranger a generous gesture in their time of need – a real rescue. That would have been Mike’s way.