In the Spring of 1990, Jay and I moved back to Minneapolis from Havre, Montana. We’d spent five great years under the Big Sky, made a lot of really good friends and had a wonderful time but the job that brought us there had run its course. I could have happily lived out the rest of my days in Montana but if Jay had continued to coach basketball there, it would have killed him.
Also, his boss wanted his job, so Jay let him have it.
We came back home with no job and three little kids. Zack was all of eight months old when we brought him to the Land of Sky Blue Waters.
He didn’t get back to Montana until he was four. Despite being terrified of heights, when he looked down the range from Logan’s Point, he said “this looks just like a dream!” When he realized he’d been born there and we took him away from the mountains, he didn’t speak to us for two days.
Fortunately for us, both our parents still lived in the giant houses we’d grown up in and had plenty of room for us to stay until we figured out what to do next. It was summertime and not at all unusual for us to spend a couple of months visiting, anyway.
Jay had to find a job.
We had some very close friends who were on staff with a DI school down south and I was ready for anything; go anywhere, do anything etc. Thanks to a recent inheritance, we had a little money in the bank and no real worries. It never once crossed my mind that Jay would have any trouble landing another good coaching gig at a picturesque college or university somewhere.
Jay went downtown to see his old friend, Ralph, who was in charge of the athletic dept. at Minneapolis Community College. He offered Jay the job of Head Men’s Basketball Coach.
I was not pleased.
OH, I was thrilled by the idea of living in Minneapolis again but unlike the other schools where Jay had held that position, at MCC, it wasn’t a full time job. I figured the money we had in the bank would sustain us until he found another job but not if the job he took was part time!
As usual, Jay convinced me that he could make it work and he was right. In short: Ralph gave Jay his career.
27 years, 600 wins and a place in the NJCAA Hall of Fame later, Jay heard that Ralph was sick. He had retired from MCC only a year or two after hiring Jay but they stayed close. In fact, Ralph, an avid outdoorsman, had taken Jay, Tyler and Zack up to the BWCA on extended canoe/camping trips when our boys were young. He taught them all how to paddle, portage, preserve the food supply from bears, pull their own weight and leave the campsite more pristine than they found it.
After hearing that Ralph was dying, Jay did get a chance to go spend an afternoon with him, reminiscing and telling jokes.
Ralph’s funeral was yesterday. It was a lovely service for a lovely man.
On the customary picture boards, telling the short story of one life, there was a photo of the gang at MCC from nearly 30 years ago. Everyone in the photo was at the funeral. All those young men and women are now old men and women and Jay’s the only one not yet retired but they were all there: Jay, Ron, Diane and Nancy. It was really fun seeing them again.
One of Jay’s former players was also in attendance. Aaron and Ralph had become close after Aaron finished playing, got his graduate degree and moved into Ralph’s community. It was great to see him and meet his wife, too.
The weather was appropriately gloomy: it was pouring rain when we arrived at the church.
I’m not complaining at all: the weather cooperated with all my plans. I had a painting class in the morning. Rick texted us to meet at his studio because the forecast was rainy. We were all to bring whatever set ups we wanted to paint. As I drove west in the early morning, the sun was out and the trees along the highway were just starting into peak color. It was glorious and I thought “Why are we painting inside? We’re going to miss all this!”
Then I passed the Chaska city limits and was immediately enveloped in a fog so thick visibility was limited to about a hundred yards. Down in the valley near the river, we couldn’t see the church steeple a block away. But it wasn’t raining and the atmospheric effects of the fog were gorgeous, so we all set up on the street in front of the studio and tried to paint the fog before it dissipated.
We were too slow.
In the twenty minutes it took us to choose compositions and set up our easels, the church steeple went from invisible, to shrouded, to misty, to solid and finally to sunlit.
Such is the life of a plein air painter.
We painted until 11:30, when we heard thunder. Quickly, we packed up our paints and got our metal easels inside just as the clouds burst.
I spent the morning 20 miles south of town and the afternoon 55 miles north. We left the funeral just as rush hour hit the city so we stopped off at Katie’s house. We fed the girls their dinners and cleaned out Adam’s freezer. He gave us three packages of walleye and two of venison to get us to go away.
I’m kidding. He seemed almost as happy to see us as BoopityBoop did.
After they had their dinner (I think it was carrots; they loved it) Adam said this was normally bouncy seat time, so I put them in their bouncy chairs. Not only did they immediately begin jumping like they think they can break atmo, their new thing is to scream while they jump!
If you’ve ever been in a gymnasium while elementary school girls are playing basketball, you know the sound: high pitched squeals of joy that make your ears bleed.
“Yeah,” Adam said. “We can’t watch TV anymore while they’re bouncing.”
I tried to take a video of the event but every time I tried, both girls stopped dead in her tracks and just stared at the light on my phone. It was hilarious. I just deleted three attempts to capture them jumping and all I got were two deer in the headlight babies staring at me while three adult voices try to coax them to jump.
We left there when we were sure rush hour was over and on the way home, stopped at a new barbecue place in our neighborhood. It’s called QFanatic barbecue. We couldn’t order take out over the phone but they assured us that if we came in to order, we’d be on our way with our dinner in five minutes. Not only were they right, but I loved the place!
I had told Tyler that the one thing Minneapolis couldn’t compete with Austin TX was the fast food. In Texas, you can get fabulous barbecue on practically every street corner. Well, now you can get it here, too. We walked into this place (which used to be a Mexican sea food place) and I said to Jay “If the food tastes half as good as it smells, this will be our new favorite spot.”
We were on our way less than ten minutes after entering, with a bag full of ribs, wings, slaw and sauce.
It tasted just as good as it smelled.
So here’s to Ralph; an epitaph we should all aspire to:
He left the site much better than he found it.