Copyright © 2026 by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett
My parents passed away within fifty days and seven minutes of each other this spring. I am wrestling with this monumental loss, recognizing that I am the sole keeper of my childhood memories.
My parents were always there for me, whether it was to celebrate a victory or mourn a loss. They modeled constant support of family, with family encompassing more than their blood relations. There are hundreds of fortunate individuals whom they adopted throughout their life.
My parents were there for EVERY childhood event, academic achievement, musical performance and theatre production. This dedication continued with the two grandchildren, even when they lived an hour or more away. When faced with mobility issues and chronic pain, my mom insisted that they would continue to attend events as long as they could, repeatedly saying, “There will be a time when we can’t.” The last performance that they attended together was for our son’s first high school musical, Something Rotten. There they were in the front row, beaming with pride at another musical victory.
By last fall, they were homebound. My mom seldom left my dad’s side, fearing that she would lose him if she left; she was right. I think that my dad waited for her departure, understanding that she would not let him go. It was only my dad who could convince my mom to go to the ER on March 12. Three days after she was admitted to the hospital for sepsis, my dad passed away. The hardest thing that I have ever done was telling my mom that my dad had died.
My last post honored Ray Waszut as my first art teacher. I never thought that my next post would be about my mom. It is only fitting that I remember Betty Lou B. (Kohnen) Waszut as my first history teacher. She was the first person to make the past come alive, instilling in me an appreciation for those who came before me.
We spent many of our family vacations wandering around cemeteries, visiting historic sites, and exploring national parks. She made exploring the past so much fun that it became my passion. Her skillset as a teacher was remarkable. Unending patience and a great sense of humor. Even at the end, she was still explaining to her grandchildren that the key to teaching was being able to laugh. Over the years she taught music, math, social studies and American History. I could not have asked for a better tutor, as my mom taught me how to study; showing me the most efficient way to do research, take notes, organize information, and study for exams. She was always there as a resource, whether it was to help me with math or proofread a paper.
We traveled a lot as a family over the years, with each trip becoming an opportunity to learn something new about the past. Our last family trip in 2021 was out west, revisiting favorite locations and national parks. A highlight was looking for petroglyphs near Dubois, Wyoming, and learning about early inhabitants to the area. We continued our education at the National Bighorn Sheep Center that day.
Their love of travel started in the 1960s, meeting life-long friends in campgrounds and camping clubs. Beginning in the 1970s we planned annual treks to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. The three of us were packed into one canoe, with me and our supplies in the middle. We portaged to remote lakes and set up camp. Living for a week without electricity and running water was never a challenge, as that was how my mother grew up on a farm in Medina, Minnesota. Located just west of Minneapolis near Independence Lake, it is now part of the Baker National Golf Course (Three Rivers Park District).
My mom began her academic career in a one-room schoolhouse where she rapidly progressed from one grade to the next. This would ultimately allow her to graduate early and start college at 15 years old. She was the first in her family to go to college. Despite her young age, she graduated at the top of her class and was accepted into the oldest and most prestigious academic honor society in the United States, Phi Beta Kappa.
She completed teacher’s training at the University of Minnesota’s High School, known as U High, in the early 1950s. Her first teaching position was at Excelsior High School, before she helped establish the Brooklyn Center High School curriculum and taught there in the 1960s. During this time she also completed her Master’s Degree at the University of Minnesota. Her final teaching position was at Northeast Middle School in Minneapolis in the 1980s and 1990s. Although she retired from the Minneapolis Public School system in 2000, she never stopped teaching. During the Covid lockdown, she taught her grandson how to play accordion. This may have been her greatest joy, as she knew her musical legacy would continue, especially after he began writing accordion music. Some of my mom’s final students were part of my dad’s care team; home health aides who wanted to learn how to play piano or crochet.
My parents met at my mom’s 16th birthday party. My mom was already attending the University of Minnesota, having skipped a few grades. On the bus ride from Robbinsdale to Minneapolis, she met a fellow student Winslow Wedin. It was through Win that my parents met. My dad and Win had known each other since kindergarten, having grown up in North Minneapolis. My parents’ first date was a bust. The next would not occur until after the Korean War. By that time, my mother was teaching and my father had finished his military service (army medic with a M.A.S.H. unit on the 38th parallel in Korea). Win again introduced my parents and they hit it off this time, soon becoming engaged. The ring went back and forth a few times, with them tying the knot in 1960.
They purchased a plot of land from my grandfather, who built their house for carpenter’s wages. Never wanting to be in debt, they had the land and house paid off in five years. They would both pass away in this same house sixty-five years later.
Before building their house, my mom assisted her dad with other construction projects. She often explained that the key to helping her dad build houses was anticipation; she needed to know what he would want before he actually needed it. It was her ability to think three steps ahead that served her well later in life as a teacher and musician.
Her love of music not only provided great comfort over the years but funded her college career. She began playing the accordion at the age of nine years old. As a child, my mom was given the option of helping clean the house or practicing her accordion; she got very good in a very short period of time. By fourteen years old, she was teaching accordion at the Traficante School of Music in downtown Minneapolis.
By 19 years old, she had memorized 2500 songs. Traficante even wrote music for my mom to represent the studio on television. Her signature song became Rhumba Encantata, written by Ralph Traficante and arranged for accordion solo by Anthony Galla-Rini. This was the song she would play whenever anyone questioned her musical abilities (usually a male). It is one of the earliest songs that I remember her playing as I raced around the house with our dog, Snoopy.
My mother took master classes with Galla-Rini in Minnesota, learning accordion techniques that she passed along to many students, including her grandson. To put this in context, Galla-Rini is considered by many to be the first American to promote the accordion as a legitimate concert instrument. He was an accordionist, arranger, composer, conductor, author and teacher. Galla-Rini has also become a great influence in our son’s accordion playing and composition.
My mother’s love of music and encouragement of young or amateur musicians never wavered throughout her life. I grew up listening to my parents make music with various friends. They belonged to several groups over the years, but their favorite became the Junction Bunch at the Western Minnesota Steam Threshers Reunion in Rollag, Minnesota. This was a musical group that toured to promote WMSTR at parades and regional events. Her personal policy for any musical session was, “Everyone is welcome, and everyone is equal.” She always ensured that everyone got a fair chance to play and that everyone was supported in any attempt at music. I value this lesson more than any other one, as I watched my mom live it daily, especially with children. She was instrumental in the music education of both grandchildren.
Six days before my mom passed, she wanted to play her accordion one last time. Although she had not been out of bed for four days, was hooked up to oxygen, and weak from a failing heart, she managed to play several songs with the family. On the afternoon of April 28, my mom was determined to leave us with the gift of music. It was an impressive final rally. I had hoped that she would be able to manage just one slow song. Her final concert included “Oh What a Beautiful Morning” (Oklahoma) with Aaron, “Tammy” (Tammy and the Bachelor) with Aaron and Isa, “Halsa dem dar hemma” (in Swedish and English) with Aaron, Isa and Andrew, “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” with Aaron, Isa and Andrew, “Five Foot Two” with Aaron and Andrew, “Sentimental Journey” with Aaron, “You’re Cheatin’ Heart” (solo), “Four Walls” (solo), “Golden Slippers” with Aaron, “Clarinet Polka” with Aaron, “Beer Barrel Polka” with Aaron, and “Kristiana Valsen” with Aaron.
I was so lucky to have been raised by a mother who filled our house with music until the very end.
We are planning to honor my mother’s legacy with a musical memorial service this summer. Dates and times will be posted here once they are finalized.