FUNERAL FOR A FRIEND

Good morning everyone.

I’d like to thank Joanne for allowing me to share some memories of Ron with you all this morning.
(To Joanne)
I was honored to be asked.
I appreciate your trust.
And, I hope to make you and Ron proud.

It’s never easy to memorialize a life well lived, but it’s good and right that we assemble here today to do so for Ron Rudrud.

Can I get a quick show of hands, how many of you have heard of the Minnesota goodbye?
You know, where you say goodbye to someone in the living room, then walk them to the door still saying goodbye, then walk them to the car still saying goodbye, then talk to them in the driveway still saying goodbye? The whole thing takes far longer than it should.

Well, that’s not my intent here today, but I am born and bred Minnesotan, so it’s in my DNA.
I’ll apologize right now in case this goes long.

Oftentimes, when people gather introductions are awkward for many.
I know some of you here today, many of you I have yet to meet.

The basic problem with an introduction here is that, as the kids like to say,

“It’s complicated”.

Sure, the easy answer is to say that I’m Todd Stroessner, an old friend of Ron and Joanne’s son Tom.

But it’s not that simple. You can’t befriend a single Rudrud. You may try to do that, but you’ll invariably get all of the Rudruds as friends in the bargain.
I believe Ron and Joanne fostered that.
I like that.
A lot.
Heck, I just met cousin Dean this past winter and it already seems like we go way back.
So, let’s just say I’m a friend of the family that specializes in Tom.

I’ve often heard that one method to truly take the measure of a man is to look at the many hats he wears. I know it’s supposed to be done in a figurative manner, not literally, but when talking with friends and family about memories of Ron a tangible theme developed, and it wasn’t hats.

Besides, the only actual hat I recall Ron wearing was a rather jaunty English driving cap.

Again, as the kids say, “Ron rocked that hat.”

Believe it or not, as I talked to people about Ron, to prepare these remarks, quite often his shoes got mentioned.

At the risk of sounding like the know-it-all mailman, Cliff Clavin, from the TV show Cheers, “You know it’s a little-known fact, Normie, that the Thursday of Holy Week is called Maundy Thursday because at the Last Supper Jesus washed the disciples’ feet and ‘Mandatum’ is the Latin first word sung in the traditional washing of the feet ceremony. The message of that song translates to ‘I give you a new commandment, that ye love one another as I have loved you.’”

That pretty much sounds like how Ron lived, doesn’t it?

So, I don’t think it’s out of line to talk about Ron and his shoes.

The classic story involves a youth hockey team Ron coached that qualified for the Silver Stick Tournament in Port Huron, Ontario.

(To John McCartan - This is your story Mac, so correct me where you must)

Due to a quirky English to Metric conversion or some other circumstance that escapes me, Ron’s Bloomington Lincoln team traveled north with one player too many.

Someone would need to sit out the tournament.
NOBODY wanted to be that guy.

Knowing he was on the bubble, and might be that player, our friend John McCartan busied himself in the dressing room, to prepare for warm-ups before the first game. At one point the dressing room door squeaked open, Mac heard the footsteps, and looking down while tying his skates, he noticed that Ron’s black wing tipped shoes had stopped right in front of him.
Not a word was said.
They both knew.

Ron’s wing tips sent the message.

Mac quickly began untying his skates, untaping his pads, and packing his bag.
Both Mac and I are wearing wing tips today in Ron’s honor.

Others remember Ron coaching youth baseball in shorts, a Bloomington Athletic Association windbreaker, black dress socks, and blue suede Adidas sneakers.

A young Paul Schroeder, just learning the game of baseball from Coach Rudrud, rode home in Ron’s car listening to the other boys bragging about the hits they got in that day’s game. Paul mentioned his “hits” too. Ron was nice enough to wait until the other boys were out of earshot and then kindly explained to Paul that they weren’t really considered “hits” if the other team caught them before they landed in fair territory.

As a youngster on his family’s North Dakota farm I gotta believe that Ron wore work boots while doing chores, and then perhaps he even wore them again later at work sites while he was the City Engineer here in Bloomington.

I imagine the US Government issued Ron a pair of boots when he served in the Air Force.

I know that Ron was a cowboy boot wearing, country music lovin’ guy too. As a matter of fact, Ron turned my Lovely Bride and I on to Willie Nelson’s “Stardust” album, which contained the song “All of Me” which we played at our wedding reception as our first dance together as man and wife.

Thanks for that Ron.

I imagine Ron had a nice warm pair of winter boots to wear every year when he took daughter Jolyn to pick out the family Christmas tree. Such a lovely tradition the two of them shared.

Many neighborhood kids, like Bruce Larson, recall Ron in hockey skates at the Poplar Bridge ice rink calling for a game of no lift, hard puck hockey, only to have a few pucks whistled off of their unpadded shins.

I recall Ron in golf shoes, running shoes, and comfortable slippers.

Of more importance though than the shoes Ron wore is what he did while wearing them.

Daughter Anita recalls that Ron could walk into a room of 300 strangers and walk out a friend, knowing, and remembering, something about every person in the room.

Ron had a way of drawing people out, of making them feel special. He always thought the best of, and expected the best from, and for, others.

If Ron had his way son Tom would be an Olympic Gold medal winner. Ron wanted Tom to try out for Herbie Brooks’ 1980 Olympic hockey team. He felt Tom would have made that team.
Have you watched replays of that team lately?
I have.
Ron may have been right. Tom might have made that team.

A few short years ago I heard the story of Ron’s heart ailment.
He’s the only guy I know of who drove himself to his own heart attack. Now Joanne can correct me here if I stray too far from the truth. If I recall correctly, Ron had a doctor appointment scheduled and woke that morning with chest discomfort. At that appointment they drew blood and tested it. While grabbing a bite to eat with Joanne the doctor called and said, “Get to the hospital now!” So, Ron drove himself there.

One can almost picture that 50,000-watt Ron smile, and his distinctive stride, as he introduced himself to EVERYONE in the emergency room, “Hi, I’m Ron Rudrud, I’m having a cardiac infarction, but how are you doing today?” For a short while those hospital issued, nonslip, tube socks, most likely became his go to footwear.

Greeting others and offering a warm smile, despite enduring an awful lot of back pain, was more than a reflex for Ron. It just came naturally to him. Son-in-law Donny, referred to it as a “Ron-flex”.

Even while in memory care Ron regularly made the rounds saying “HI!” and offering a smile to any and all. When Ron was confined to his room, for a short while, due to illness, many of the residents asked staff members, “Where is Smiley?”

The last few times we visited Ron, his pace had slowed, but his smile had not. Ron had even adopted his own version of the Minnesota good-bye whereby, when it was time to leave he’d stand up, throw an arm around your shoulder, and walk you all the way down the hall. The casual observer probably imagined the younger man was supporting his older friend. In reality though, it always felt to me, more like Ron continuing with his guiding hand that I’d come to depend on over the years.

Ron walked in faith with the Lord Jesus, spreading the message to his children and their children too. Psalm 79:13 aptly describes Ron’s life,
“Then we your people, the sheep of your pasture, will praise you forever; from generation to generation we will proclaim your praise.”

In the final analysis I believe the greatest memories of Ron will be the intangibles.

I’ll always remember a kind and gentle man who accepted all and made everyone feel special.
The distinctive gait,
the warm smile,
and a genuine compassion for his fellow man.

I hope there will be no repercussions for mixing religions, by quoting a Catholic Saint in a Lutheran Church, but when thinking of Ron, I am reminded of Saint Basil who said,
“A tree is known by its fruit;
a man by his deeds.
A good deed is never lost;
he who sows courtesy reaps friendship, and he who plants kindness gathers love.”

For all of us here today, both family and friends, who know and love Ron Rudrud, he’s left us some big shoes to fill, but he’s also shown us how to fill them with faith, hope, and love.

Thanks again Ron, we love and miss you.

We Ain't So Different, You and I

I’m often told that I look a lot like my father.

I bet I’ve heard it thousands of times.

I’ve never really seen the resemblance accept maybe a little bit in a few pictures of each of us.

Sadly now all I have left for comparison are those photos of dad.
And memories of the things he taught me over the years.

In this forum I’ve previously mentioned that dad taught me that if you talk to someone long enough you’re bound to find some connections.

Friends you have in common

Places you’ve both visited.

Or even just traits you share with that person.

Obviously dad wasn’t on the bus yesterday afternoon as I traveled home after a long day at work, but his spirit was.

I quietly read my book as the crowded bus headed west out of downtown Minneapolis when a rather large black woman took the seat next to me.

At first glance we appeared to be direct opposites.
Male/Female.
Black/White.
Large/Small.

Quiet/Talkative.
Literate/Illiterate.

But then we spoke.

Barbra told me about her background.
She’d been raped.
Kidnapped by a social worker (committed?).
She is homeless and unemployed.
She’d like to go into the ministry to share a message of optimism about God’s love.
She’d like to write a book despite the fact that she can’t read (I helped her sound out the words on the cover of my book - and explained what the word ‘culinary’ meant, which reminded her that she was hungry).

She needed help in so many ways, but her top priority at that time was “new” clothes, from the nearest thrift store she could find, since the ones she was wearing smelled bad.

I hadn’t noticed the smell. I’m a bit nasally challenged that way.

I mentioned to her that the Polo Ralph Lauren sport coat I was wearing was purchased at my local Goodwill thrift store.
I mentioned that my dad was a minister and that a dear friend of mine had graduated seminary and been ordained later in life and that she is one of the happiest people I know.
I gave Barbra a card I had for a free Punch Pizza (the nearest one was a few stops ahead on the busline) and we spoke of the type of pizza we each like.
I was able to give her a few bucks that I hope will help her get the new clothes she needs.

I pardoned myself as my stop was approaching.
Barbra thanked me for helping her out and then she blessed me.

I mentioned to her that with that blessing she already was in the ministry.
She smiled and said,
“Hey! You’re right! How about that!”
And then she explained to me that as much as she liked “these”, holding up the gifts I’d handed her, she appreciated the conversation more.
People rarely talk with her.

THAT’S why she wanted to bless me.

Isn’t that what we all want?
Someone to talk to?
Someone to listen?

I told her, “Barbra, we ain’t so different, you and me.”
With that she smiled broadly.

Perhaps dad was right all along; talk to people and find out that we’re not that different.
We may not all look alike, but we’re all pretty similar.

And aren’t we all in the ministry too with how we treat others as we navigate through our days?

Learning valuable life lessons while riding public transportation, who knew?