A young colleague remembers Paul Strandberg

The late Paul Strandberg enjoying a morning bite at a Roseville cafe in 2012.

September 4, 2014, 5:00 P.M.

Stan and Kathleen,

I just read your post about Paul and wanted to take a moment to thank you. Of course reading it brought me to tears, but that picture of Paul in high school was worth the price of admission.

(Click here to link to all previous posts containing keyword Strandberg.)

I worked with Paul for about 3 years (2000-2003) at the Dept of Ag when I was just a couple of years out of college. I remember clearly the moment I met him - just where he was standing in the doorway of a colleague's office as I was shown around on my first day of work. At 28 years older than me, I wouldn't have guessed we would be come friends, but that office eventually became my office and I shared many great conversations with him standing in that doorway. I'll always remember him as so funny, so incredibly smart, and so kind. Once he taught me a license plate game he played with his family - making up words by inserting letters between the letters on the plate of the car in front of you - he was rattling them off and I could barely come up with one. I got to meet his mom on that trip, on our way back from some work trip out-state. And his car! About as messy as anybody's. I remember finding a fried chicken drumstick under the front seat once!

He was a member of the
Jefferson Carolers - sang tenor.

Paul always treated me like an equal, though I was really just a kid. He was my father's age, but talked to me like a friend and a colleague. What a guy. I last saw him at his retirement party - not sure what year that was - and it was tough to see him fading even then. But I've got many great memories of our short time working together.

I was unable to find information about a memorial service for him, so thanks for letting me share some memories with you. And thanks especially for the pictures and all you wrote on your blog.

Warmly,

Tim Bubar

Paul Strandberg 1947-2014

Courtesy Tegland archives

A couple of honors students behind their piles of books.  Paul, left, with his friend, Karl Tegland.

Paul was also senior class president. Karl was a valedictorian.

A life-long friend, who endured a multi-year struggle with a rare neuro-degenerative disease, finally succumbed to it this morning. He was 66.

Paul Strandberg was Stan's classmate in Alexandria. They continued their friendship while both served in the U.S. Army and then during Paul's distinguished career as an attorney with the Office of the Attorney General for the State of Minnesota.

Here is a link to his obituary in the StarTribune. Click here.

With his very good friend, Rev. Ron Olson,
in Paul's back yard in 2010.

Stan will remember Paul as an upbeat, intelligent observer of the world around him, always with a wry sense of humor and a keen eye for the absurd.
Drafted in 1969, Paul was made a military policeman, charged with returning AWOLs captured at the Dallas airport back to the Fort Hood stockade. It seemed an odd assignment for this gentle man, but he made the best of it, never easy with the braid and spit shine or the .45 holstered on his hip.
"It's better than the jungle," he would sigh when dropping by for a chat at Stan's brigade information office. Paul's intimidating uniformed presence always unintentionally and amusingly created a ripple and a stir amongst co-workers during these impromptu visits.

Clever and brilliant in so many other ways, Paul was no mechanic. He was riding shotgun when Stan threw a rod in his mother's Oldsmobile the fall of 1964. The big engine clattered and banged as the teens pulled into the Strandberg farmyard, frightened and stunned. Paul suggested shutting off the engine and restarting it just to see if the noise would "go away."
It didn't work.

2012 in a Roseville coffee shop.

Now whenever Stan confidently restarts a balky computer, he often remembers the day he and his pal tried rebooting Mom's Oldsmobile.

Paul's long goodbye was well underway back in 2009 when friends gathered in our basement for a mini-reunion. So used to seeing their classmate sharp and robust, his newly-acquired fumbling and speech pattern were heartbreaking to his old friends, some choking back tears as they parted, sadly realizing that they were losing Paul, ever so slowly.

Paul was introduced to Pick's disease when his father contracted it back in the 60s. It was difficult to explain to classmates what was happening to his Dad, who sat quietly in the kitchen, frail and vulnerable, somewhat confused, unable to speak to us anymore, not at all the happy farmer we had known just a short time before.

According to Wikipedia, "Pick's disease is a rare neurodegenerative disease that causes progressive destruction of nerve cells in the brain. Symptoms include dementia and loss of speech (aphasia). While some of the symptoms can initially be alleviated, the disease progresses and patients often die within two to ten years."

Paul, Stan, Karl and Sue Tegland, the late Michael Bolin, Karen Schjei Benson, the Rev. Ron Olson, Mark Benson.
Paul showed early signs  at this 2009 mini-reunion of the Alexandria Class of 1965.

Memorial for Paul Strandberg

A Memorial for Stan's classmate and friend, the late Paul Strandberg, is planned at his brother's home in Alexandria on Oct. 11. Contact Stan for details or a ride.
Bring photos, memories. . . and crossword puzzles.
Paul would have been 67 today.
-------
Strandberg, Paul Alan age 66, of Roseville, MN, passed away peacefully on August 4, 2014. Paul was born on September 26, 1947, and raised on a dairy farm in Nelson, MN. He served the state of MN for 30 plus years with the MN Attorney General, Ramsey County Attorney, and MN Department of Agriculture. He loved reading, crossword puzzles, listening to music, writing song parodies, and simply enjoying life! Preceded in death by father, Winfred, mother, Evelyn, and brother, John. Survived by wife of 27 years, Susan; children, Mark, Carissa (Alex), and David; aunts, Muriel and Lois; brother, Bill (Kathy); sister, Jean (David); cousins, nieces, nephews, in-laws, friends, and dog Winston. Donations in honor of Paul preferred to UCSF Memory and Aging Center. Information on a celebration of Paul's life forthcoming. Heartfelt thanks to the Alton Memory Care staff for their dedication, care, and kindness to Paul.

More. . .

Remembering his Uncle Paul: "That's Why They Called Him Roy"

John with Sophie turning the pages to "That's Why They Called Him Roy."
Paul's sister,  Jean (John's mother) is standing, in white.

Poetry, rap, verse or doggerel, whatever you call it, the late Paul Strandberg was a master. Weddings, reunions, graduations and other special events were incomplete without a reading of Paul's latest comic work, delivered to a crowd that would alternately laugh and groan at our laureate's words.
Today's special event, a Memorial to Paul at his brother's Alexandria farmhouse, naturally included a re-reading of one of Paul's classics. Paul's talents live on, we learned today, when his nephew, John, served up his own creation in the true spirit of his departed Uncle Paul, and did him one better by accompanying himself on the guitar. The poetry is in fun, but remarkably, it is quite historically correct, a fine retelling  of many parts of this endearing man's life, who left us too soon, but is fondly remembered by so many.

 That’s Why They Called Him Roy

Mary Jane and Ron. Ron led a short program.

Paul was born in Nelson, Minnesota.

He was the youngest of the Strandberg clan,

John, Jean and Bill,

You’d of thought Evelyn had her fill,

Especially before they invented the minivan.

Growing up on a farm in the country,

Paul had it rough as the baby brother,

He was the youngest and the smallest,

And definitely the Paul-est,

With tough siblings and a stoic mother.

Paul has always been a unique king among men,

The unlikeliest MP that there ever has been

A kind, sardonic smarty-pants and cheap as can be,

Got the British crossword in a minute or three.

About 75 really nice people gathered.

From when he was in government,

Back to when he was a boy,

That's why they called him Roy

As soon as Paul, learned how to read,

He learned a troubling thing.

His given name of Paul,

Unfortunately meant small

Instead, he chose Roy -- cuz it meant King.

As he got older Paul came into his own.

Engaged in his own brand of nonsense.

His sister’s dolls he hung,

Rowed into the lake and sung,

Both Jean and the Bible camp, they took offense.

Paul has always been a unique king among men,

The unlikeliest MP that there ever has been

A kind, sardonic smarty-pants and cheap as can be,

Got the British crossword in a minute or three,

From when he was in government,

Back to when he was a boy,

That's why they called him Roy.

Family tradition took him down to Carleton,

He was smart, but not so focused scholarly.

Softball was where it was at,

Played and lorded over Rottblatt,

Still managed to leave with his degree.

Paul's classmates, Mike, Stan and Mary Jane.

This drinking, smoking, hippie-music listener,

Was drafted, ended up in basic training,

A most unlikely of MPs,

Tracking down AWOL escapees

Found military values weren’t ingraining.

After he escaped the Army, he found he tested well,

Got the highest LSATs in the state,

Had choices of where to go,

Went on down to Chicago,

3 years later he was a law graduate.

Paul has always been a unique king among men,

The unlikeliest MP that there ever has been

A kind, sardonic smarty-pants and cheap as can be,

Got the British crossword in a minute or three.

Elizabeth reread Paul's poem -- delivered originally
at the 95th birthday party for his grandmother Edna.

Back to when he was a boy,

That's why they called him Roy

After his time in the Windy City,

Paul came back to Minnesota

Began his work in government,

An employer he never forewent,

Focused between Wisconsin and the Dakotas,

As a grownup, he took his Lutheran thrift to heart,

He watched his pennies, nickels and dimes,

Who knew that a rusty Honda civic’s

Odometer had seven digits,

Miserliness was among Paul’s crimes.

Paul and Michael Jordan both loved playing basketball,

And they have something that they shared.

When jumping through the air,

Paul's eldest, Mark, with fiance Kate. She's
an Illustrator, he's an attorney. They live in Portland.

They stuck their tongues out to there,

But Paul’s self-bite required - emergency repair.

If you ask Paul’s friends that if he just had one wish,

They all could chime in for him

It was a lead pipe cinch

A vertical jump, just one more inch,

To get him that much closer to the rim

His sporting extended to the fantasy world,

And his beloved Boca Chica league,

In the few weeks the Clips were winning,

Paul’s gloating and his grinning,

Gave the other owners a fair dose of fatigue,

Paul also traveled to some far off places,

The government decided he was just the man,

They weren’t just content

To fix agriculture on this continent,

Paul had to join Borat in Kazakhstan

A brunch was catered to the neat, classic
farmhouse near Lake Geneva, home to Paul's brother
and sister-in-law.

That trip was not his only foreign adventure

His taste for travel was not deprived,

He accompanied son Mark,

On a mad Korean lark,

Got lost, ate crazy food, but still survived.

The farm was always a happy refuge for Paul,

He loved to drive up for weekends there,

Quietly placing spite and malice

While drinking coffee by the chalice

He and Evelyn made a contented pair.

Paul has always been a unique - king among men,

The unlikeliest MP that there  - ever has been

A sardonic smarty-pants and cheap as can be,

Could get the British crossword done in a minute or three,

From when he was in government,

Back to when he was a boy,

That's why they called him Roy

Big boxes from Alex

 Side view of the linen cabinet

The guy who built our cabinets in Stan's Alexandria hometown delivered them today. He got a hand (above) from our installer, Vark, and he also got a hand from us for the beautiful work. Cabinet builder Wallin and Stan exchanged names we know from Alexandria but couldn't come up with a match, so we just talked about the great work Collins did for us instead.
The sign on his truck (right) actually says Nelson, MN, that's a friendly little beer, burgers and gas town a few miles outside of Alexandria. The cabinet shop is actually located on a rural route, across the road from Stan's old high school chum, Paul Strandberg.
Mr. Wallin didn't know him either. Time marches on.
Vark begins installation tomorrow. We're brushing our teeth in the guest bath these days. Chop chop sir...

I apologize for the Trailboss@swpub.com glitch

So sorry folks. I have three email addresses that feed the Tucson house. Two of them have been properly forwarded to the local address. One, trailboss@swpub.com, was not. My bad. So I didn't get the great email messages sent to the Trailboss during the past month until today, when I did some maintenance and resetting, and discovered a mailbox stuffed with junk, but also with some of my friends kind and interesting email messages and photos in between.
I won't have time to respond today... we're packing to leave... that's why I was doing maintenance, but thanks to folks like Kathy Skadsberg, Tom and Ruth, Kevin Strong, Lorlee, Paul Strandberg, Bev Korkowski, Pat Minelli, Jennifer Benjamin (congrats on the engagement), David Jansen, John Herdan and many others who did as they were told and sent emails to the trailboss. Thanks for trying. I will be back at the usual computer in a week and will tell you then how terrible I feel about this.
Stan

Hometown cabinet maker

Our cabinet designer Beth, with Becky.

In an all-time small-world coincidence today, we met the cabinet designer for our master bath upgrade project. . . and she's an old Alexandria Cardinal!
More than that, her Collins Cabinets company is located in rural Alexandria, just across the County Road from the Strandberg farm, where, while driving Paul home back in 1964, Stan blew out the engine on Mom's 1957 Oldsmobile.
We were introduced to Beth Collins by our neighbor and interior designer, Becky Loebertmann this morning. Becky had no idea of the old home week that would briefly overwhelm her planning meeting.
Beth helps run the Collins Cabinets family business. It was founded by her late father. Beth lives in Minneapolis with her husband, but maintains a home in Alexandria near Lake Darling. She's on I-94 a lot, shuttling between the busy workshop and the Twin Cities market.
The two ex-Cardinals could have chatted away all morning, but there was work to do. (Beth was the captain of the cross-country team in the 90s. Stan's ninth-grade basketball coach, Casey DeJong, is now 80 years old and still helps out at Collins Cabinet.  And of course she knows the Sonstegaards and the Strandbergs. And can barely remember Triple R Sports before it became The Bugaboo Bay.)
It's going to be nice to be able to say that our master bath was re-built by friends from Stan's hometown.

Idle moments

I knew nothing of the British Navy. I knew nothing of class warfare. I didn’t understand that it was folly to marry beneath your station, although I did know you should never marry a Catholic. And I did know that the Navy Uniform Mom sewed for me had no zipper in front. Like girl jeans.

When I was in the eighth grade, the junior high music classes put on the comic operetta, Gilbert and Sullivan’s “H.M.S. Pinafore.” Probably because Mom taught voice and timid Miss Voss figured she’d have to make me practice, I was chosen for a lead role “Sir Joseph Porter.”

The late Paul Strandberg was the Captain of the ship, docked at the Central High School stage.

I got to marry Hebe, played by Kathy Schultz, a cute ninth grader who was John Conrad’s girlfriend. That was nice. She was certainly above my station, as a lowly eighth grader. But for now I was a momentary rock star in, for me, an unforgettable moment.

Though the performance went off without a hitch, the Park Region Echo newspaper took no notice.

It’s been 60 years, and I have only vaguely heard mention of the operetta since.

The pandemic and Apple Music changed all that today.

Must have been a clue in the Saturday crossword that made me think of the H.M.S Pinafore. And with all the time in the world on my hands, I checked out a synopsis of the operetta in Wikipedia, as a way of relieving boredom. I was stunned by all the irony and the class warfare themes and messages in the script that had gone completely over my junior high head. Then I searched Apple Music for “he polished up the handle of the big front door” a chorus that still came to my mind from the solo mom had pounded into it. Don’t remember if my voice had even changed yet. Sure enough, up popped the venerable 1875 operetta with all the songs and tunes still familiar in my addled 72-year old grey matter.

There we were, Miss Voss pounding out the piano part, sailors and such in make-shift striped tee shirt costumes, and me in the swashbuckling British Navy First Lord outfit, with all its medals, fake sword and bright white pants. . . with no zipper.

The usual, please

Byerly's in Roseville, August 25, 2010
Classmates Karl Tegland, Paul Strandberg, Stan Rolfsrud

It was eerie this morning at Byerly's in Roseville after the hostess seated Paul and Stan. There they sat, in the exact same booth used two years ago for their last breakfast reunion. And the waitress's name tag read "Katie." Whoa.

Today in the same booth.
Did Karl get the memo?

She brought Paul something called a fritatta, all eggy and cheesy and wrapped around some hash browns and sausage, to go with his own private pot of decaf. Stan skipped the senior menu and went directly to the 3-egg garden omelet, no cheddar, wheat toast and regular black coffee.
Most of the time not eating or drinking was consumed reviewing classmates. Stan and Paul graduated together (Paul with top honors. . . Stan not so much) from Jefferson High School in Alexandria, so a trove of historic photographs of their peers was displayed on a tabletop laptop as they shared all the inside snorts and jokes they could think of before turning to the unfortunate situation the Minnesota Twins find themselves in.
Paul greets one and all, as does his wife Susan, who probably dearly wished to attend this breakfast of memories, but opted instead for an hour with a dentist.