Remembering Paul

Friends, schoolmates, co-workers, neighbors and family gathered on a rainy afternoon at a home in South Minneapolis Saturday, to celebrate the life of a good man, gone suddenly.
Paul Mathies, 63, died March 23, 2012.

Pam and Paul

Life-mate Pam Vaughn, with the assistance of Kathy Sampson, hosted a steady stream of callers, each claiming Paul as a dear and important part of their lives, who touched them all in many different ways.
Paul's sister, Andrea, and her husband, Jim, were there from Ann Arbor; they've been closing Paul's apartment, and performing other sad but necessary duties left to the next of kin. They greeted the many guests warmly, renewing some friendships, starting others.
The hosts had laid out an assortment of memory aids: there were scrapbooks, favorite photos, CDs, fishing trip videos looping in the kitchen, keepsakes, and other reminders of Paul's life -- including a basket of his favorite munchies, featuring, of course, a nice assortment of Gummi Bears.

Paul's sister, Andrea, and husband, Jim

His pair of red Ford 150s, Paul's trademark ride, were shined and parked out front, finally idle after countless trips to construction sites, fishing holes, hunting grounds, and social events. They've seen miles of beautiful countryside --  often at blazing speeds.
But the guests really didn't need any help remembering stuff about Paul, they arrived with plenty of their own fond memories. There were Edina high grads with stories, Concordia Cobbers too. Paul served a stint in the U.S. Army. A tall, coordinated fellow, he was regularly assigned to parade the colors of his spit and polish headquarters unit in Germany during the 70s.
No one came from the Army, but many teammates from countless softball wars were there, (now a bit gray and creaky) to remember his "taters," the frequent mighty blasts that set many an outfielder back on his heels.

Andrew, Ted, Marcy

Paul was a photographer. Guests perused his notebook of contact sheets and some fading prints, looking over black and white images long past -- some of friends and events, many were simply artistic statements.
A former neighbor sat quietly and told of the frequent times Paul had helped her on a home repair, his kind, competent hands always seemed ready to pitch in. His hunting and fishing partners testified as well, veterans of so many adventures, talking about a determined, persistent outdoorsman who understood the pragmatics of the wild and carried the skills and scars earned from years of experience and a fervent love of nature.
Some of Paul's ashes will be scattered over northern lakes where he spent so many quiet, peaceful hours.
The dining table centerpiece, cleverly decked with lures and paraphernalia and lovingly put in place by Pam, a regular fishing partner, poignantly announced: "Gone Fishing!"

A few of Paul's pals attending: Bruce, Andrew, Wayne, Stan
Shel, Claude -- Glen on camera. 

"So who will I go fishing with now?," Pam wistfully wondered aloud.
A principal from the "Wooden Dreams," a successful remodeling firm that had employed Paul, was there to pay respects to a steady craftsman with a great work ethic. A well-known Minnesota political figure came in as well, offering comfort and remembrance of so many happy, boisterous days with a fellow always ready for a good time.
Paul, "The Wall," didn't say too much, didn't complain much, didn't explain much. But he was always there, ready to join and contribute to the spirit of of the moment.
The buffet table was crowded with sandwiches, ribs, cakes, salads and good cheese, much of it carried in by guests. Root beer floats, gourmet coffee, it was all there. Tears and laughter, grief and celebration. Good people remembering a very good man.
It was exactly the kind of event that Paul loved to attend.