January 17th, 2025 by Gary Osberg
It has been 20 years since my dad died. We held a “Celebration of Life” for him at Gethsemane Lutheran Church in Upsala. Dad had prepared many funeral plans over the years, due in part to his decision to donate his body to the University of Minnesota Medical School. Also, in 1969 his doctors had told him that he had throat cancer and would probably only live another 5 years. He lived 36 years after the removal of his voice box. The soloist at the service asked if dad was an Elvis Presley fan, since all the songs that he choose were on an Elvis album, Evening Prayer, “He Touched Me”,” Amazing Grace” and “The Lord’s Prayer”.
I was at home the Monday evening after the service when the phone rang. I answered it with a somewhat weary voice and the woman on the other end said: “We are looking for the family of Gary Osberg”. Expecting a sales pitch, I responded: “This is Gary Osberg!”. There was a long pause, and I heard laughter in the background. I thought to myself, ‘I am not in the mood for this’. The lady came back on with: “This is the strangest phone call I have ever made. We have a floral arrangement for the funeral of Gary Osberg”. In a loud voice I proclaimed: “I AM ALIVE, IT WAS MY DAD THAT DIED! Where are you calling from?” The floral shop was in Foley, a city not even close to Upsala. She told me that she had checked with all the funeral homes and churches in her area and had no luck. I was dating a woman who lived near Clearwater at the time, so I had them deliver the flowers to Karen, and they were beautiful.
“I walked for miles at night along the beach, searching endlessly for someone wonderful who would step out of the darkness and change my life. It never crossed my mind that the person would be me.” Anna Quindlen
January 10th, 2025 by Gary Osberg
Many years ago, my Dad went to work as a dishwasher at Little Sisters of the Poor in St. Paul. His boss was a woman named Maxine. They became real good friends. Her family also referred to him as Grandpa Bill. Maxine and Dad never lived together, but they ended up living a few floors apart in the same high-rise apartment building next to St. Paul Ramsey Hospital on University Avenue. When Maxine died, I attended the funeral, and Dad surprised me by asking me to sing “The Lord’s Prayer” and “Amazing Grace” during the service. There was no piano, so I had to sing “a Capella”. It was ok.
One of the pieces of furniture that Dad brought with him when he moved into my house in Upsala was a corner unit with glass shelves and a glass door that had belonged to Maxine. Her family had given it to him. After Dad passed in 2005, I set out to clean his room.
One of the items in the corner cabinet was a small green egg with silver decorations and a seam abound the middle. I was curious to see what treasure was inside, but when I pried it open, expecting to find a Russian doll, what came out were ashes! “OH MY GOD! IT WAS MAXINE!”. I spilled a little in my haste to put it back together and I quickly put it back into the curio.
A few years later my daughter bought the house from me. Every summer Kerry and her mother would have a garage sale. It happened again to Marcia while she was helping my daughter gather items for the garage sale. After that I decided to dig a hole next to my Dad’s grave at Gethsemane Church in Upsala and bury the “egg” before there was nothing left of Maxine.
“Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn’t everything die at last and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” From The Summer Day by Mary Oliver
January 3rd, 2025 by Gary Osberg
I consider myself in recovery. I quit drinking ‘Old Grand Dad’ in 1976. I am also a “recovering entrepreneur”. I couldn’t work for the man, I had to be the man.
Lastly, I am also a “recovering jerk”. It is the last one that is the hardest to deal with. I have been known to grow very impatient with lines. Lottery ticket sales drive me nuts. I love the self-serve gas pumps with swipe card capability. To help me deal with these defects of character, I have adopted a morning reading ritual.
This one I stole from Dear Abby. It is usually published in the local newspaper every New Years Day.
JUST FOR TODAY: I will live through this day only. I will not brood about yesterday or obsess about tomorrow. I will not set far-reaching goals or try to overcome all my problems at once. I know that I can do something for 24 hours that would overwhelm me if I had to keep it up for a lifetime.
JUST FOR TODAY: I will be happy. I will not dwell on thoughts that depress me. If my mind fills with clouds, I will chase them away and fill it with sunshine.
JUST FOR TODAY: I will accept what is. I will face reality. I will correct those things I can correct and accept those I cannot.
JUST FOR TODAY: I will improve my mind. I will read something that requires effort, thought and concentration. I will not be a mental loafer.
JUST FOR TODAY: I will make a conscious effort to be agreeable. I will be kind and courteous to those who cross my path, and I’ll not speak ill of others. I will improve my appearance, speak softly, and not interrupt when someone else is talking.
JUST FOR TODAY, I will refrain from improving anybody but myself.
JUST FOR TODAY: I will do something positive to improve my health. If I’m a smoker, I’ll quit. If I am over-weight, I will eat healthfully, if only just for today. And not only that, but I will also get off the couch and take a brisk walk, even if it’s only around the block.
JUST FOR TODAY: I will gather the courage to do what is right and take responsibility for my own actions.
“Great results cannot be achieved at once, we must be satisfied in life as walk, step by step.” Samuel Smiles
December 27th, 2024 by Gary Osberg
In 1976 I gave up Old Grand Dad 80 proof for Lent. I gutted it out and in April of 1977 I went on a retreat at the Cenacle Retreat House in Wayzata, Minnesota. Sister Ten-Tie Saniel presented “Effective Living” a seminar based on John Boyle’s “Omega Seminar”. I learned the following affirmations. Affirmations are stating future goals in the present tense. They have made a big difference in my life.
The six basic affirmations are as follows:
- “I am loved; therefore, I like myself, unconditionally as I was created.” (Repeat five times)
- “I never devalue myself with destructive self-criticism.” (Envision yourself doing something that you are very proud of)
- I see love in others and have warm regard for all persons at all times. (Envision yourself doing something nice for somebody else)
- “I am easily able to relax and with every affirmation I become physically and mentally healthier.” (Envision yourself doing something relaxing)
- “I am completely self-determined; inner directed by the spirit of love and allow others the same privilege.” (Repeat five times)
- “I accept total responsibility for the consequences of my actions and reactions.” (Repeat five times)
- You may add more affirmations which focus on specific areas of your life such as “I especially love and enjoy weighing 170 pounds”.
I recite these affirmations every morning after I go through my stack of readings which helps me to stay sober. If you would like a copy of “Gary’s Koping Kit”, just ask.
“Let others lead small live, but not you. Let others argue over small things, but not you. Let others cry over small hurts, but not you.
Let others leave their futures in someone else’s hands, but not you.” Jim Rohn
December 20th, 2024 by Gary Osberg
Five days until Christmas. I have my shopping done and now I simply must pace myself on the cookies and candy.
Children love Christmas, as well they should. As with most families, some years, Christmas gifts were easy to come by and some years the budget would not allow for much. The Christmas of 1956 was a memorable one for me. My mother had to move from our home in St. Louis Park due to Dad’s inability to handle booze. Ma’s mother, Grandma Laura Ramlo, drove her 1952 Chevy from Upsala to 1620 Colorado Avenue South in St. Louis Park, put Dad in the back seat and drove him to the VA Hospital in south Minneapolis. She told them, “He is a veteran, he is a drunk and he is your problem, not mine”. Then she took us all back to Upsala to live in the apartment above Ramlo Grocery in Upsala.
I am not sure what the reason was for our ending up living in an apartment in Little Falls in December. It had something to do with getting financial aid. That Christmas, Santa brought us six big Tonka Toy 18-wheel trucks. There was a cattle truck, an oil tanker, a freight truck and three more. This was a perfect gift for a family with five boys. I was 13 years old and brother Bill was 10. We played with them non-stop. I am not sure what my sister Kathie got from Santa that year.
For many years I had the impression that they were from some sort of social agency that served the poor. It turned out that “Santa” was Dewey Johnson, a classmate of my mother’s from Upsala High School class of ’37. Dewey’s cousin was one of the founders of Tonka Toys. Dewey had already passed on before I learned the “rest of the story”, so I never did have a chance to thank him.
Perhaps you know of a family that has come upon hard times, and they could use a “Secret Santa” this year.
“We are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas time”. Laura Ingalls Wilder
December 13th, 2024 by Gary Osberg
In 2000, I purchased a house from the estate of my mother-in-law Irene Rudie. I bought the house “lock, stock and barrel”. One of the many treasures that I found was a diary that Irene had started on March 1, 1927. Once I started reading it, it was hard to put down. She started the diary when her husband John and her were moving from a rented house in South Elmdale, to a forty-acre farm northeast of Upsala. John had remodeled a lumberjack’s shack which they would have to live in until he finished building the barn and the house. The cows got priority over Irene and the children.
At that time, they had three children. The youngest was Jacky who was less than two years old. The journal started with Irene getting the car stuck in the mud on the way to their new farm. She had to walk the last two miles with Virgil and Theresa walking beside her while she carried the baby.
One of the stories in the diary dealt with a cow getting mired in a mud pit. She and John had to leave the children on their own in the shack while the two of them worked long into the night to free the cow. The fear of loss was evident. Every nickel was important. Their abundance was in their capacity to work.
A few years later there was a single entry in the journal for the day. “Bessy got stuck in the mud pit again today. John shot her.”
Tomorrow morning you will have an opportunity to enjoy a very special Christmas concert at Ritsche Auditorium on the campus of St. Cloud State University. The St. Cloud Symphony Orchestra will be performing “Children’s Holiday Concert” at 10am. Another “Holiday Concert” performance will be at 3 in the afternoon You can purchase your tickets at stcloudsymphony.com or at the door. I hope to see you there.
“Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.” Leonard Cohen
December 6th, 2024 by Gary Osberg
It looks like the ice on the pond is not going to be very safe for a while. Do not go out there unless you are with a buddy and be sure to check the ice often. When I was a youth in Upsala, we used to drag race our cars across the ice on Cedar Lake west of Upsala. To my knowledge, no one ever went through the ice. We got away with a lot of stupid things as kids. One winter we made a game of standing on the hood from an old DeSoto, using it as a giant snowboard as we were towed in the ditch behind a car. Dumb and dumber.
After a heavy snow we would party by driving into the Burtrum Hills with our old cars, just to try and get stuck. These were not SUVs, we had a 1954 and a 1952 Chevy. We simply packed a lot of boys in the cars with snow shovels in the trunk and went for it. My sister Kathie and one of my classmates both ended up in casts after a toboggan run down a steep hill in the Burtrum Hills.
Try to not let your young children read these Friday notes.
Great River Chorale is presenting “The Gift of Winter”, tonight at Church of Saint Joseph in downtown St. Joseph at 7:30. Sunday’s performance is at 4pm in Bethlehem Lutheran Church in St. Cloud. Tickets can be purchased at www.greatriverchorale.org or at the door. I hope to see you there on Sunday. I do have two pair of tickets for tonight’s performance. Simply respond to this email and I will make sure your tickets are at the will call desk tonight.
“It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare; it is because we do not dare that things are difficult.” Seneca
November 22nd, 2024 by Gary Osberg
In 1998 Dad moved from his high-rise apartment in downtown St. Paul to my house in Upsala. He had been a city fellow for most of his adult life, but he was raised in Upsala. I was working in Minneapolis as a sales manager with the Xerox agency Albinson and I was gone most of the week. It wasn’t much of an inconvenience to have him there. His passion was cooking; however, I told him in no uncertain terms that I hated the smell of fried foods, and I did not eat leftovers.
In July of 1999 Albinson and Xerox parted their ways and they no longer needed a sales manager. I spent the summer painting old buildings and garages in the Upsala area and started working for Minnesota Public Radio in October of that year. If I did not leave a Post-it note on the counter in the morning that said, “NO SUPPER”, there would be a home cooked meal on the table when I arrived home. The food was awesome. The baked potatoes were done in a very special way. He boiled them for 10 minutes first and then baked them for one hour at 400 degrees.
As Dad struggled with old age and cancer, sometimes the quality of the supper was not up to his usual standards. Also, many times the smell of burnt food or worse, burnt plastic, from the tea pot handle, would greet me as I came in the back door. He liked to take naps, and he burned three tea pots, with plastic handles, in the last six months. It got so that the only time I did not leave out the Post-it note, “NO SUPPER”, was on Fridays.
On Friday November 18, 2004, I came home, and he greeted me with, “I must go to the hospital, but you can eat first. Your supper is in the oven”. I responded, “No way, we will go now!” I put on the oven mitts and grabbed the baked potatoes and the dish of meatballs from the oven and shoved them in the frig and we drove to the VA in Minneapolis.
That was Dad’s “Last supper”, he never did come home. That weekend I ate the leftover meatball supper. It was a very tasty meal.
“There is something in every one of you that waits and listens for the sound of the genuine in yourself.” Howard Thurman
November 15th, 2024 by Gary Osberg
I do believe that the first non-profit board of directors that I was asked to join was the St. Cloud Community Arts Council. Susan Dean was the person that asked me to join. At the very first meeting, there was a suggestion by the Executive Director to change the name of the 30-year-old organization. One of the suggestions was “Visual Arts Minnesota” which sounded pretty good to me. I offered to pay a small prize towards the solicitation of a logo design. The St. Cloud Community Arts Council was instrumental in the selection of Anthony Caponi to sculpt the “The Granite Trio” on the mall in downtown St. Cloud. Arlene Helgeson was the chair of the committee that selected Anthony. The dedication took place on August 30, 1973. Senator Hubert Humphrey was there. A grand 40-year anniversary celebration took place on August 30, 2013. The late Jim McAlister created a wonderful video that is available on YouTube. If you would like to have the link, just ask.
Sadly, a few years back, the board of directors of Visual Arts of Minnesota simply ran out of energy and they folded up their tent. Now there is a real danger that the Lake Wobegon Trail Association is going to go the same way. Cliff Borgerding has been the force behind the Caramel Roll Ride, the Lady Slipper Ride, and the Caramel Apple Ride. Cliff is simply unable to continue. Some individual or a group of folks need to step up and take the reins. I have attached a letter from Cliff with his contact information. Please pass the word along to whomever you think might be interested in saving these marvelous recreational opportunities.
“If you can do more, you should.” Robert Redford
November 8th, 2024 by Gary Osberg
I was an army brat. Dad served in the Navy during the second world war and later he joined the Army. In 1950 he was a Sergeant in the 5th Army, stationed in Vienna, Austria. We lived on the second floor of a very nice apartment building at 41 Gregor Mendel Strasse. There were two marble faced fireplaces and a baby grand piano along with a crystal chandelier in the dining room. I ran with a group of other army brats. I was nine years old and the oldest in the group.
One day in February we were hanging out in front of the large estate located across from our apartment. One of the kids stuck his hand through the chain linked fence and a dog took his mitten. I bravely offered to go through the gate and recover the mitten. I still remember starting my walk across the large yard toward the two “Boxers”. They greeted me by jumping up and knocking me to the ground. They proceeded to chew on my arms and legs until an Austrian man who we referred to as the “fireman”, (he took care of the furnace in our apartment building) came in and pulled the dogs off me.
I walked home nearly naked. My mother fainted when she opened the door. I spent about 6 weeks in the Army hospital. It took me a while to get over my fear of dogs. The occupant of the estate on the corner was a Colonel in the U.S. Army, and his wife gave me a new winter coat.
In April of 2019 I returned to Vienna, and I was able to take a cab ride to 41 Gregor Mendel Strasse. I told the cab driver to wait for me and I approached the front door. A resident was getting into his car, and he asked me if I needed help. I shared with him that I had lived there as an Army brat in the fifties and was hoping to see our apartment. He told me to push the button for Benedict, the owner of the building. Someone buzzed me in, and I walked up to the second floor. The lobby looked very familiar. The elevator was new. The faucet which provided water for the flower garden was still there. Marcus let me in. He was a live-in boyfriend of the owner, Verena Benedict. He let me in, but he would not allow me to take pictures. It was an amazing experience.
My mother said that our family was once able to attend a concert presented by The Vienna Boys Choir. Tomorrow night The Vienna Boys Choir will be singing in the Paramount Theatre in beautiful downtown St. Cloud. I have two tickets in row G for the first the first one to respond to this email. I will leave them in Will Call for you. I hope to see you there.
Lesson learned this week: “Any sentence that starts with, “Don’t you”, “Didn’t you…” , “Shouldn’t you….”, or “Couldn’t you…” implies that the person that you are addressing is “deficient”. GMO
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