Eulogy for Ednard Barsness, Jr.

My name is Stephanie Barsness and I have been married to Ed’s oldest son, Greg for 20 years.  Ed was my father-in-law and my friend.  I am honored to speak for our family in remembering him. 

Over the past year and a half, I had the privilege of attending medical appointments at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester with Ed and Josette.  As you can imagine, those visits were some of the most difficult and challenging times of his life.  Ed fought a long, hard battle with multiple myeloma for twelve years, enduring chemotherapy, physical discomfort and pain, yet always proving to be the model of strength, determination, and good cheer. It didn’t surprise his family and friends, as that is the way Ed chose to live his life…with strength, determination, and good cheer.

Ed grew up in a family of women in Starbuck, MN.  For those of you who aren’t Norwegian or from MN, it’s the lutefisk and lefsa capital of the United States.  His two sisters, Geri and Karen, and mother, Geneva were ever-present in his life while his father, Ednard Sr. was often employed away from home to support the family.  From them, Ed learned the value of hard work, a strong devotion to family, and a kindness and gentleness of spirit.  He carried those strengths forward in his daily life.  Ed liked to tell stories about growing up- of his high school shenanigans with Ed Rasmusen and Chuck Brown, of his neighbor’s dog “Inky”, and his job at the Dairy Queen.

After high school, he was drafted into the United States Army.  Following his service, he was employed by the JC Penney Company in sales.  He enjoyed his time selling menswear- especially fitting suits and shoes.  Take a good look at the Barsness men upfront here.  I know where they got their good looks, good taste, and who taught them how to stand tall and proud in a well-cut suit. Ed prided himself on his strong work ethic and appearance and devoted himself to a job well done.  He was a steadfast and loyal employee, determined to succeed in his career.  Upon retiring from Penney’s, he obtained his Real Estate Broker license and enjoyed 10 years selling homes in St Cloud.  Always a salesman, Ed charmed everyone he met with his humor and grace right to the very end.  Nursing and clinical staff all commented on what a “good patient” he was and how willing he was to follow orders and please his doctors and care team. 

Ed and Josette started dating while they were in high school. Old photos of the two of them show a handsome guy with a snazzy ’57 Chevy convertible and a pretty young girl on his arm.  They fell immediately in love and were faithfully devoted to each other through 52 years of marriage.  They were married here at Hennepin Avenue United Methodist Church in 1962.  They were a good team- Ed and Josette- they had a true care and concern for each other and were always quick to share a smile and a laugh.  As a couple, they enjoyed dancing, television, movies, golf, travel and time with family and friends.  They spent almost every night of their married life together, ordered for each other in restaurants, ate off of each other’s plates, wore each other’s glasses, and modeled for their family steadfast love and dedication.  True companions and best friends, they provided for each other with amazing strength in mind, body, and spirit.  Josette proved her love for Ed beyond measure this past year in her excellent caregiving.                 

Josette, I know you will never doubt for a moment that you provided him with his every wish and fulfilled all his deepest desires.  You were his soul mate.

Ed and Josette raised their sons, Greg and Brian to be strong, loyal, hard-working men who now are loving husbands to Sara and I.  Ed was an extraordinary father.  He called Greg and Brian both ”Buddy” and always stood behind and beside them, sharing their accomplishments, hopes, and dreams.   I see so much of Ed in his boys. Their quiet voices, perseverance in education and careers, gentle care of their children, loyalty to their friends…and the same adoration of their wives.

Greg and Brian hosted a wonderful family gathering in their Dad’s honor last night.  We joked, laughed, and toasted Ed amid a few tears. 

Greg and Brian shared a love of sports with their Dad- playing golf, fishing, attending Twins and Saints games, watching Gopher and Duke University basketball together and always, ALWAYS talking scores and strategy.  Beginning 15 years ago, when we lived in NC, Greg would call his Dad after every Duke BB game to rehash the play by play.  Last week, they watched their last game via Skype together.   Coach K better take that Duke team all the way to the Final Four this month and when they win it, we will all know which angel to thank.

Greg and Brian, you have big shoes to fill-on and off the courts, and I know you will.  You couldn’t have proven your love for your Dad more than you have over the past few days.

Ed was a wonderful father-in-law and friend as well.  Tender and kind, I will miss him calling me “dear” and cleaning my glasses diligently for me on our visits. Ed was always quick with a joke or a story.  He loved to read the newspaper- folding it back in proper order when he was done.  He was a history buff and enjoyed reading and studying maps.   He listened to WCCO radio and liked to talk politics.  He loved music- especially Waylon Jennings and Johnny Cash, but always joked that the only instrument he ever played was the shoehorn.

Perhaps the fondest memory I will have of Ed is in his role as grandfather.  When Samuel, Joseph, Erik and Eva were around, Ed was the happiest man on earth.  His love and affection for them was always evident.  He never shied from holding the kids as babies and never missed an opportunity to watch the four of them grow and learn. 

Sam, Joseph, Erik and Eva, he was your first babysitter, your loyal audience at sports, music and school events, and you were his little “buddies”. 

Sam, I hope you always remember him pitching a tent and camping with you in the basement.  Joseph, you know what a good sport Grandpa was.  There’s a photo on the board out there of you and Grandpa with your hair dyed green on St Patrick’s Day.  Ed was our Norwegian Irishman.  Erik, you will never eat another strawberry, chocolate or vanilla wafer cookie without thinking of Grandpa.  Eva, you were his only little girl- ever.  That made you special to him.  Grandpa Ed gave the best hugs and fist bumps and could not have been prouder of the children you are. Thank you for the joy you brought Grandpa and especially for the compassion and care you showed for him this past year.

Strength, determination, and good cheer. 

Ed Barsness exemplified these qualities and many more.  He was a good man, and lived a life well-loved.  Our family wishes to thank you for your presence with us here today, your love and support, and for honoring and remembering Ed as he was- strong, smiling, and full of life. 

Rest in peace, Buddy.

 Delivered 3-12-14 at Hennepin Ave United Methodist Church, Mpls

What I Know at 50

Last September, I turned 50.  It's taken me a few months to settle into it.  Middle age is the eye of life's storm.  The turbulence of growing up is behind me while the peril and wreckage of aging lies ahead.  I'm sitting in the quiet calm of it both appreciative and afraid. I don't sweat the small stuff anymore because the big stuff lurks large around the bend.  I'm free from the should-could-would of the past and linger longer in the right here and now.  I look back on my days full of a quicker pace and a faster dance, but have come to terms with the days I currently squander in a slower groove.  I now give myself permission to be in the moment.  I'm more contemplative, more complacent, more accepting, and yes, more at peace.  I have much more patience and tolerance at hand.  Life is too short to waste any more negative energy or to have a bad time.  I'm coasting down the hill now.  Most of the hard work is behind me and there is really only one more mountain to climb.  

So, this is what I know right now:

I am an expert on most things.  I've lived long enough to have tried it, tasted it, had it happen, or at least heard of it.  I'm wise now. I know that I know things.  Not everything, and not all things but enough to speak from experience, give sound advice and state my opinion with confidence. My brain may have reached it's capacity for new learning and my memory seems to have a slow leak but I've vividly retained the most important facts.  I know what's right, true and real. I remember the people and places, sights and sounds of my life.  I can still feel the experiences and state the facts.  I think I've figured out how the whole thing works. Go ahead, ask me anything.  If I don't know, I'll get back to you but only if I can find my cellphone and then figure out how to Tweet.

I'm much less "presentable" than I used to be.  I still have good hair days, but most of the time get by without makeup in yoga pants and clogs.  My idea of dressing up is to throw on a pair of Spanx and wear dangly earrings.  I'm comfortable and I'm me.  Fifty means I'm ok with living in my own skin. It wasn't that long ago I was the cute college coed, but I don't necessarily want to be her anymore.  My stomach and my boobs are my badges of honor from motherhood, and I wish I felt differently, but cosmetic surgery and underwires terrify me. I'm not convinced that ALL bodies need to be seen as beautiful. I'm enhanced by my Rubinesque qualities and still paint a pretty picture.  You see my true colors shining through and that's why you love me.

I have daily moments of both bliss and despair.  I find myself appreciating the simple seconds of the day.  Smaller things make me smile.  I find happiness in easy, unexpected ways and look for joy right in front of me rather than searching for perfection.  That sunshiny spot to curl up in on the couch, my pup at my feet, and a cup of Chai in the owl mug- life is good!  On the other hand, I feel the tragedies of life more deeply too.  A suffering friend, an ailing parent, a smart ass teenager can all rock my world and shake me to my core.  I've lost that confidence that makes youth so much easier. I'm more vulnerable now.  I spend as much time looking outward as I do in.  I feel the pain and suffering of those all around me and I wear it like a cape across my shoulders.  I share the load, but find myself hoping more of it falls on me than on those I love.  Fifty is full of life and oh, so bittersweet. 

I have become my mother…and my father too.  I am no longer mortified by the things they are and do.  I am thankful for the things they've handed down.  I accept their positive qualities as a tremendous hereditary gift and reject those less than desirable traits with confidence.  I know they have always meant well and tried hard.  I have worked to emulate the good and eliminate the bad.  It's gotten so much easier to understand them. I see things from their perspective and know the circle has come full.  It's unbroken and I will never stop needing or wanting their influence in my life.  I choose to be like them. Just wait, they said.  Just wait, I say now.  I know someday my children will realize the same and that makes me smile. 

I count my blessings while simultaneously calculating when my luck will run out. I know the scales have decidedly tipped.  I no longer languish in what I don't have and instead love all that I do. In my marriage and family life, I cherish the shared wit, the knowing looks, and the quiet conversations.  I'm slower to anger, quicker to forgive, and content to linger in just being together.  When I look at my children, I thank the heavens that we've raised them well and also wonder what in hell will become of them.  Despite the evidence that all will be well, I know it won't be over til it's done.  I knock on wood, cross my fingers, and pray.  Trust is my word of the year and for the next fifty years as well.

When I blew out the birthday candles in September,  I wished for good health, 

more time, and a happy life.  

That is it.  That is me.  Luckily, that's what I know right now.