When Tom and I got together, there were some skeptics who thought he and I were too different to be a successful, sustaining match. Well, Tom and I thought differently – we believed our union was pure fate. Let's take a look at the supporting evidence, shall we? First of all, we were born in the same hospital, a mere 8 days apart. Back in 1948, it was the custom to keep mothers and their newborns in the maternity ward for 2 weeks. So, Tom and I started life together at the same time, at the very same place on earth: the Nursery at Minneapolis Northwestern Hospital. My original birth certificate was registered with Hennepin County on April 22nd, and Tom's was registered the next day, April 23rd... Pretty official documentation, I'd say, that he and I began our lives together in the same brood of brand spankin' new babies. Once he and I graduated nursery status, we were each taken to our respective homes in Southwest Minneapolis. There to greet me was my sister Mary, who was three years and three months older than I was. There to greet Tom was his sister Mary, who was three years and three months older than he was. There were a lot more of these early life "coincidental" facts Tom and I shared, but let's just get on with the story. Once school age, Tom went to his parochial grade school, St. Thomas, while I went to public grade school, John Burroughs. I well remember all the storybooks read to me before I entered Kindergarten. Many were fairy tales involving princesses... kingdoms and castles ... falling in love with a Prince Charming and living happily ever after. However, I am certain that on my first day of Kindergarten – once I witnessed the behavior of the little boys in my class: the bullies...and the whiners... and the mama's boys --I am absolutely certain that any of my hopes of finding a Prince Charming in my lifetime were severely and definitely dashed forever. Alas. Now comes high school, and when the kids from the Catholic grade schools fed into Southwest that first day of 9th grade, I was delighted. I thought they were like a big, squirming litter of puppies...tumbling down the halls, exploding with wiggly energy, yipping and yapping, back-slapping, bursting with guffaws, and teasing each other relentlessly, while being wildly free and friendly with the rest of us. Tom Alexander was among these irresistible, cuddly, lovable kids. Tom and I certainly knew one another in high school in a friendly, likeable way, but apparently for us the timing wasn't right. Many years went by until it was the evening of our 25-Year High School Class Reunion. Tom and I stood on opposite sides of the dance floor. I didn't have to work up my courage. I simply walked across the floor and asked him to dance. Well, Sparks Flew! And hearts caught on fire. And did they ever! But, because of our respective situations, the timing wasn't right...again. Alas. Fast forward ten years to when the timing was finally right. Tom found a home for us in the Old Neighborhood. We were now together under the same roof, where we lived so happily for 22 years. We filled our home with family and friends, old and new, and a lot of love and laughter. Lots of laughter. I want to tell you a few important things about the Tom Alexander I got to know so well. He had the priceless gift of making people feel good about themselves. When you were talking with Tom, you felt you were witty and interesting and valued. He was a very good listener, an under-acknowledged quality in our current culture of noise and egos. It was another example of his generosity. When you spoke, he would give you his rapt attention.... making you feel as if you were as smart and clever as Mark Twain. Tom was good to all creatures, great and small. He always kept the chipmunks in our yard well fed. And every summer he fostered the upbringing of one or two families of baby wrens whose parents nested in the big ferns hanging by our back door. Dogs and cats would light up when Tom appeared. So did little kids and adults alike...both man and beast loved to bask in the warm and joyful Irish vibes Tom gave off. Tom never wanted to hurt anyone's feelings. A couple of cases in point: Once Tom had told me that when he came home from the military service, his friend, Jack, set the two of them up on a double date. Jack knew the girls, but it was a blind date for Tom. As the young men approached the door to the building where they'd pick up their dates, Jack turns to Tom and says, "Oh, by the way... your date's name is Evy. They call her Heavy Evy. The door bursts open, and out come two women, one outweighing Tom. "What did you do?" I asked. "Well, what do you think I did? I took her out dancing. And we had a nice time." Another story about Tom never hurting anyone's feelings... He was married for a few years when he was in his mid-twenties. His wife's mother was a professional seamstress, who owned a fabric store. But Tom's wife did not have her mother's credentials or skills. However, she did have ambition, and she decided to make Tom a suit. A three piece suit. At the time Tom was a salesman, and the presentation of his clothing mattered. Well, apparently the suit project didn't come out very well, but his wife was proud of her efforts, and had the expectation that Tom would be wearing it to work. So, what did he do? Well, he would get dressed in the homemade suit in the morning... bid his wife goodbye... and stop at a gas station restroom where he would change into his off-the-rack suit he had stashed in the car the night before. The routine was repeated in reverse on the way home. Another good story that speaks to Tom's character... Tom was the captain of the wrestling team at Southwest High School. He also was a social animal, who loved to throw parties. One of these parties involved alcohol...therefore, pretty typical teenage mischief and mayhem ensued. Unfortunately, the police were called... and the school authorities were alerted. The school said if the party organizers didn't come forward, everyone who attended would be suspended. So, Tom came forward. The fallout left Tom still on the wrestling team, but he was stripped of his captain status. Five decades later, at the 50-Year Class Reunion, Rich Cohen, who was named team captain after Tom's fall from grace, sought out Tom at this milestone gathering. Rich, who is now a retired physician, had been cleaning out his mother's house after her death. There he came upon the purple and white star that signified the Captain of the Southwest Wrestling Team. Rich thought back to how Tom, even though defrocked of his leadership title, would show up early to practice and spend the time showing the younger wrestlers how to perfect their holds and their moves... Rich witnessed the strength of Tom's character, something he never forgot. Back to the reunion... Rich then handed the purple star to Tom and said, "This belongs to you. I always knew that you were the true leader of our team." (Actually, this is a story about two men of good character.) Tom was always trying to help people get what they needed, be it work or tools or furniture or even a romantic relationship. But especially, he tried to find work for people who were in need of a job. And that included the two little girls next door – Fiona and Eloise. They adored Tom. So he became their first boss. They would clean our outdoor furniture, and he would pay them generously for their efforts, peeling off the crisp dollar bills one-by-one from a big wad of cash he held. Their mother even bought each of them a plastic tote to hold their clean rags and spray bottles for the job. Tom tried to teach the girls a good work ethic, along with the value of saving their dough. Whenever I'd drive up, Fiona and Eloise would come running to my car to greet me, then ask, "Where's Tom? Is he in the house counting all of his dough?' Tom Alexander was a good man. He was an exemplary man, who was kind and generous and selfless. Tom was very good to me. He built me a castle, which he was forever expanding and improving. He always wanted to make me happy. So often when we would be in adjacent rooms doing different things, he would shout out, "You're pretty!!" I would say, "Why, thank you. That's so nice of you to say." And he would always respond with, "Oh, don't thank me. Thank God ...and your parents." What a charmer he was. About 20 years ago, Tom and I went to Colorado to visit my sister Nancy and her family. Tom flew home first, but I stayed on a few more days. While my sister was driving me to the airport, her 4-year-old son, Maclin, who was sitting in his carseat in the back, asked his mother if she had a piece of gum. She looked and had to tell him No, sorry, but she didn't. I said I have some in my suitcase in back, and if he could wait until they dropped me off at the airport, I would get it for him. "NOOOO!", wails little Maclin, "NOOOOO, you can't!" His mother and I were baffled at this burst of emotion. "Why not?", asks his mother. With the same distress in his little voice, Maclin says, "Because you have to hurry home to Tom... Because you LOVE HIM!" Well...out of the mouths of babes. This sweet, innocent 4-year-old boy, who believed with all of his heart in fairy tales, had applied the wonder and the beauty and the magic of a fairy tale romance to his uncle and aunt, Tom and Jeanne. But the kid was right. In fact, he was spot on. I couldn't wait to get home to Tom. Because I loved him...more than I could ever say. So I did end up, after all, with a bona fide Prince, who was very, very charming. A prince of a man, who truly loved me as I truly loved him. Our getting together was indeed fate. And our life together was also the stuff – the good stuff, the very best stuff – of fairy tales. I will miss Tom tremendously... until we meet again. And we will. It's always been our fate. So, until then: "Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

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Alexander, Thomas T. Age 75, of Minneapolis, died at home on December 29, 2023. Survived by life partner, Jeanne Krause Kosek; siblings, Mary Jane, Steve, Gary (Jan), and Barb (Jerry) Barber; many nieces, nephews, and many, many friends. A Celebration of Tom's Life will be held at Washburn-McReavy Edina Chapel, on Friday, April 19, at 11AM. Full notice Sunday, April 14. Washburn-McReavy.com Edina Chapel 952-920-3996

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As the years past by - I have come to recognize that a few people I have met in my life stand out among the many. Tom is one such person. He was one of my best buds at Southwest - and I remember countless visits to his home where we would stop by and say "HI" to Tom's dad "AJ"  - who would share stories about his days working at the Red Owl grocery warehouse. As the years past - Tom and I would occasionally stay in touch as he went his way and I went mine. Tom agreed to be our best man at our wedding 52 years ago and also stood in as the Godfather to our first child. We have lost touch over the last 40 years - but my memories of Tom burn bright as I recall what a happy smiling face he was to virtually everyone who knew him. My thoughts and prayers are sent  to Jeannie and everyone whose life was made richer because Tom was our friend. Respectfully, Jack Lytle

KAREN ARMONIES TRIBUTE Karen Armonies was small and soft-spoken, with a delicate beauty and physical grace everyone noticed.  She was exceptionally kind.  Even in the seventh grade, when the rest of us were a total mess, Karen had the maturity and rare ability to make us - her hopelessly awkward and insecure peers - feel good about ourselves.  She had a way of laughing at our jokes that would actually make you believe you were the funniest person on earth.   I know just what she's doing in her new home -- making the hopelessly awkward and insecure angels feel good about themselves.  Bless our sweet Karen.  I can almost hear the beautiful sound of her laughter from here. Jeanne Krause

I had not seen Tom Arnold for about 45 years when I learned of his death from an internet search for some of my childhood buddies. Even after having been out of touch for so long, I was saddened and felt I had lost a part of who I was while growing up on Beard Avenue. It good to have this opportunity to briefly recall a few childhood memories. Tom lived five houses down from me, and I probably spent more time with him during our Audubon School years than with any other friend . We both felt perfectly comfortable just walking into the others house, and each set of parents treated us like family. His dad was one of the coaches of our Audubon softball/baseball teams. I have posted photo of our fourth grade team on this website. We did the usual horsing around as young kids – riding our bikes out of the neighborhood when we were not supposed to; pea shooting at cars on 39th street; and even briefly experimenting with a few cigarettes with another friend, Bobby Smutka, in the bushes in the field across France Ave during the summer before sixth grade grade. Ugh!! Tom was the star of the neighborhood kick-the-can games held in my family's front yard at 4000 Beard. Tom was an enthusiastic kid. I remember my dad lobbing a baseball to him 27 times before he made contact. He refused to quit, a trait that he likely carried into his adult life. Tom loved cars. He was always excited to play with his slot cars or to ride his home-made coaster “car” down the hill on 40th street . My only visit to Raceway Park was Tom's birthday party. As he got older he could be seen working on his own car in the family driveway. He ended up supporting his wife and family running a garage in Northern Minnesota. Tom and his new wife suddenly and tragically became the parents of his wife's younger siblings after his in-laws were killed in a car accident shortly after he and his wife got married. I know through Tom's parents that he took on this task with total courage and commitment. I hope all who loved Tom are at peace. Here is a link to his obituary: http://unioneagle.com/2013/03/01/tom-arnold/ Rich Cohen    

Our dear classmate, Nancy Blake passed away on June 30, 2021. I've posted a lovely photo of her with her daughter, Tina, and her son Blake. 

When the kids from the two Catholic grade schools fed into Southwest on that first day of 9th grade, I thought they were like a huge, squirming litter of puppies...exploding with wiggly energy, guffawing, yipping and yapping, bursting with laughter, teasing each other while being wildly free and friendly with the rest of us, who just stood and stared, mouths agape.  Cathy Brown was among these irresistibly likeable kids. Cathy was a very kind girl and a very pretty girl.  I remember in the winter of 9th grade she added four new outfits to her wardrobe.  She looked like a million bucks in these clothes.  Each outfit was composed of a box-pleated wool skirt and matching lamb's wool sweater.  One outfit was a soft blue, one was pink, one aqua, and one winter white, but this last one was different in that it had a pattern of little brown leafless trees on the sweater.  Who, I ask you, remembers stuff like that!?!  Well, I did. I guess I was impressed and inspired by her great fashion sense at that tender age.  (But the truth is she would have looked pretty in anything.) The next year Cathy and I were dating a couple of senior boys who were friends, and we had a few double dates together.  So I got to know her a little better.  I learned that this kind and pretty girl was also very shy and modest and humble. There weren't a lot of kids in the mid-'60s who were able to bypass the requisite awkwardness and messiness the teenage years.  But Cathy did.  Along with her many enviable qualities, she had grace. Cathy Brown really had it going on.  Yet she was the last person on earth who knew this.  But here's the thing about Cathy:  If she ever had been made aware of it, she wouldn't be one bit different than exactly the way she was.

The man could do the limbo! After he won the contest at the __th class reunion, I never saw him again. I always wondered why this genuinely popular guy didn't show up anymore. In h.s. I told him about the vacancy at Baskin Robbins 31 flavors on 50th & Penn,after I got fired. He appreciated the tip. I imagine he drew in a good crowd, especially of the female persuasion. God bless you, Mr. Cain.

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I met Tom in home room 29 which is where they put the band kids in 7th grade. He played trumpet.   I remember him coming to school in clothing that made a strong personal statement. He was once sent home having facial hair that was felt not appropriate. How times have changed!!   Declining with a dementia is a horrible thing. My sympathies to friends and family   Rich Cohen

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I met Tom in home room 29 which is where the put the band kids in 7th grade. He played trumpet.   I remember him coming to school in clothing that made a strong personal statement. He was once sent home having facial hair that was felt not appropriate. How times have changed!!   Declining with a dementia is a horrible thing. My sympathies to friends and family   Rich Cohen

I miss Phil Campbell. He’s been gone thirty years now and I still really miss him. Phil and I were very good buds in high school, and that continued, despite the miles that separated us, through our college years and beyond, until life really started to pull us in different directions. As callow youths, though, Phil and I had a great “friends” run. We got together often to laugh and joke, and talk about girls, I suppose, and just plain old hang out. And we made music – voice and guitar, as they say. That’s what I remember, and miss, the most. I could keep up with Phil pretty well on guitar, and I had the better voice, but he was way out of my league as a performer; unlike me, he loved the spotlight, which made him the better singer. And so, because of him, we performed, not just for ourselves (though we did that a lot), but in public a few times, at some Campbell family friends’ occasional parties, way out in the ‘burbs somewhere. Scared the pants off timid Jeff, of course, but Phil loved it, Phil shined [shone?]. And maybe we even made pretty decent music? We couldn’t have been too awful, I figure, or they wouldn’t have invited us back. But probably what mostly carried us through was Phil’s exuberant and infectious joy at giving an audience the gift of music. I wish I could find that joy. And I wish that my buddy Phil hadn’t died so young. Jeff Moore

 

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Tom Dobbs died five years ago.  After his funeral I sent his family the following letter: Tom was very special to me. In the ninth grade I worked up the nerve to ask him to Sweetheart Swing. He brought me a corsage of white tea roses. It was the only one I ever saved, and I still have it. Whenever he and I were toether, we were laughing. When Tom was diagnosed with his illness at the age of about 25, I visited him several times at the old Minneapolis General Hospital. I realize this was the beginning of a long and very difficult journey for Tom, as well as his entire family. His death seems like the second time you lost Tom. What I can tell you for certain is that his classmates - 45 years after leaving high school - still remember him vividly. Tom was very popular at Southwest...popular for all the right reasons. He was very smart with a razor-sharp wit, sensitive and good to others and an astute observer of people...not to mention his athetic prowess and good looks. He was an exceptional young man. Tom wasn't special only to me. He was a very positive force in a lot of lives. His memory is locked into the hearts of his many, many friends. It's important that you know this. My love and sympathy, Jeanne Krause Kosek