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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 16^th 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 38^th 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.

Copyright © 2026 by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett

There are moments in your life when time stands still. For me, it was the middle of a snowstorm on the morning of March 15, 2026. I was holding my dad’s hand and telling him how much we all loved him when he took his last breath.  

Bedridden, his quality of life had significantly diminished over past last year, but no matter what life threw at him, he never complained nor showed any anger. He continued to greet everyone with a smile and tell us how much he appreciated all of the help.  Every time we left, he would smile, wave, and then say, “Thanks again! Love you.”  Whenever I think of my dad, he is smiling. Today would have been his 93^rd birthday.

A few weeks before he passed, I asked, “How was your day?” As usual, he responded, “Good,” then added “Every day is a great day.” His kidneys were failing, he was having difficulty swallowing, and yet, he could still say that every day was a great day.

This past month has given me time to reflect on what my dad taught me, especially at the end.  He had absolute trust that I would usher him out of this world with love and support; the same love and support that he gave me my whole life.

I remember leaping into my dad’s arms around the age of four. I would climb up high, shout, “Catch me!” and then leap. The practice stopped when I began shouting “catch me” mid-air without any advance warning. I still remember leaping, full of confidence that he would catch me no matter what. I knew that he would always be there, and he always was, without fail.

My absolute trust in him never stopped; he was always there to support me and lend a helping hand. When I skipped school (for the first and only time), my truck broke down and he was the one I called for help. No judgement, no yelling, just help.

He taught me how to laugh at myself, especially when I screwed up. Over and over, I was told that we all make mistakes and it’s okay to be wrong; apologize and move on. That gave me confidence to try new things as an adult, how to be fearless, and how to accept failure. If I stumbled and fell, he was there to help me back up and move on with my life.

He taught me how to work with my hands, plan for a project, keep a clean shop, and overcome any obstacle that life threw at me. He showed me how to take pride in EVERY project. His shop was so well organized; everything was labeled and in its proper place.

He told me that if you borrow something, return it in better shape than you found it.

He showed me the beauty of nature and why we need to preserve it for the next generation.

He found beauty in so many things, both natural and manmade. Sunsets, clouds, canyons, fall leaves, mountains, seashells, rocks, spring flowers, architecture, motorcycles, and classic cars.

My dad taught me how to mix colors and paint. We gathered flat rocks from the shores of Lake Superior for our projects, our primary subjects being water and clouds; they remain my favorite things to paint.

I spent hours watching him work as a stone mason at the cabin, carefully selecting and placing each rock. He had an unending supply of patience for every project. He taught me how to tuck-point brick at our home. Mortar was tested by cutting into it with a trowel; it had to be mixed not so dry that it cracked, not so wet that it oozed. He taught me everything from carpentry to cement work. He was an amazing instructor, as he first pointed out what you did well before offering any suggestion.

Treat everyone the same. Appreciate the work that people do for you.

I remember him rushing out to help the garbage man every morning when I was little. They would laugh while emptying the big bins into the truck.  Most recently he befriended the mailman, making such an impression that he asked for time off to speak at his funeral.

Everyone adored my dad because he was always accepting and kind. He saw people for who they were, looking beyond who they loved, their religion, and the color of their skin. He made friends wherever he went. One of his greatest joys was being the official “Hobo” for the Western Minnesota Steam Threshers Reunion every Labor Day Weekend. For a whole weekend he just rode the train and met new people. Best. Job. Ever.

Each stop on a family vacation was an opportunity to befriend a stranger; whether it was a gas station attendant or fellow traveler, my dad always learned someone’s life story in a few minutes. People immediately trusted him. He taught me how to draw people out of their shell, how to ask questions, and value their responses. He taught me how to listen.

There is so much more that I could say about what he taught me over the years. My dad was an extraordinary man and I will do my best to honor his legacy:

Make new friends every day, be kind, be considerate, treat everyone equally, and find beauty wherever you are in the world. I only wish that more people were like my dad.

Here is a link to the video played at his celebration of life reception on March 24, 2026. It features some of his favorite songs.