Eulogy - Firemann Legreid, North Viking Lutheran Church, April 15, 2010

    It is fitting that we should gather in Maddock to say our last goodbyes to Firemann because it was here that he was born and raised. It was here he grew up working long hours on his parents dairy farm. Here that he delivered milk in the wee hours of the morning. Here that he got himself on the welcoming committee for young teachers moving to town and met the woman he knew was the cream of the crop. With a creative plan and a hopeful heart, he courted and married Mary Lois, and for decades the community was the better for it. When his older brothers went off to war, Firemann was left to manage the farm. But he was there to greet the soldiers when they returned from the service and he honored them every day when he ran Old Glory up the flagpole in his front yard.
    When it became apparent Maddock needed a plumber, Firemann taught himself the science of plumbing, passed the state licensing board, and became the community’s first master plumber. He quickly became known for his ability to understand complex problems, design practical solutions, and carry them out. One of the first projects to showcase his talents was installation of a new steam boiler in the Maddock Aggie school. The Maddock Community Center is perhaps one of his proudest labors of love. To this day, his ability to couple functionality with tradition can be seen in the acoustical design and Norse theme of the ceiling’s woodwork. Over the years, he touched nearly every family in Maddock, through his work or by gifting his trademark, hand-crafted letter openers.
    It is fitting also that we should gather in this church. This is the church where Firemann's parents worshipped. A stained glass window commemorates Gunder Legreid's contributions to this congregation. This is the church where Harold, Pam, and Brad were baptized, where they were confirmed, and where two of them were married. This is the church where Firemann contributed untold hours of labor keeping the boilers and plumbing in good running order.
    Firemann always treated everyone with respect and always seemed able to win their hearts. He never advertized, unless you count the signs on the side of his work vehicles, yet he had more business than he could handle. And no one in the area went without plumbing service, even if they could not afford it. He got called out at night and even on holidays leaving his family to carry on without him. He made the best of every situation, he did it without complaining, and always completed projects professionally. He was very proud of his family, his country and his heritage. Did I mention Firemann was Norwegian? If not, you probably noted the Norwegian music, the Norwegian flag, the lefse stick he made and if you join us downstairs after the service, you'll be treated to krumkake and rosettes.
    Firemann was a good teacher, an exemplary role model, and when his children were grown, a valued friend. He taught his children well. Brad and Harold are excellent problem solvers, like their dad. They can build or repair practically anything. Even Pam is much handier around the house than I am. And he taught them more than how to fix things. One time when Pam was home from college she had a big project due the following Monday. She knew she wasn’t going to get it finished by then, so she began to make up a story to use as an excuse. She planned to tell her professor that she’d been home for the weekend and much to her dismay, learned that her parents’ marriage was dissolving, consequently she was too distraught to complete the assignment. Pam told her Dad about her plan. He didn't act insulted, which he had every right to be. Instead, he calmly cautioned her that she should be careful because one lie begets another. He said the best policy is to just be honest, let the chips fall where they may, and in the long run, that would be best. She took his advice.
    And he never lost faith in her. Pam and I got married less than five months after we met. Recently Pam asked, “What did you think of that, Dad, because you didn’t know Jim very well at all?” He just grinned and said, “No, but we knew you.”
Firemann taught his children to take care of things. One day, shortly after Firemann moved to the nursing home, Pam was going through his kitchen drawers and found this hand-held rotary beater – it came from the factory with a plastic handle on the top and a turning plastic handle on the side. It got plenty of use making whipped cream for Mary Lois’s famous strawberry shortcake. What surprised Pam was that the top plastic handle had been replaced by hand-hewn walnut, formed in just the right size and shape to replace the plastic, which must have broken. Firemann didn't believe in throwing something out if you could fix it.
    In many ways, he was ahead of his time. He worked next to Mary Lois in the kitchen on a regular basis and certainly whenever there was a big production like a Thanksgiving dinner to prepare. He knew things about cooking that she didn’t – perhaps because, as the youngest child in his family, he spent a lot of time with his mother. It was not uncommon to see Firemann iron a shirt, clean a toilet, or wash the floor, and this was way before anyone even heard of “women’s lib.”
    He was a gentle man, not in the sense of “ladies and gentlemen” but a truly gentle MAN. His children rarely if ever heard a harsh or angry word from him. And he was sensitive to the needs of others. Many times while he was in the nursing feeling sad or blue, he and Pam would cry together, and true to his gentle nature, he would say to her, “I’m so sorry to make you cry.”
    After Mary Lois became ill and following her passing, Firemann and Brad spoke on the phone almost every day. Those calls at first centered on the challenges he faced in caring for Mary Lois and, over time, migrated to the challenges he dealt with in caring for himself. True to form, one of the last calls he made was just days before his own passing when about all he was able to enunciate was, “I’m OK Brad.” He never wanted anyone to worry about him.
    Brad and Firemann enjoyed a long friendship going back to the days of coffee together at Hunter's Barber Shop or grilling steaks for men's night at the Country Club, though neither of them golfed. They went on fishing trips to Canada and overnight trips to Belcourt Lake. On these latter excursions they brought their own fish to fry because they seldom caught anything better than a bullhead. They learned to hunt together. It turned out that Firemann enjoyed the field lunches more than the hunting.
    Firemann treasured the time he spent with his grandchildren, at Harold and Linda's cabin in Minnesota, here in Maddock, or in Bismarck. Our son Reed spent a lot of time in Firemann’s woodworking shop, where Reed learned not only woodworking skills, but patience, persistence and the joy of giving. Earlier in life, Firemann and Mary Lois were always handcrafting some project for their friends, which their children delivered on Christmas eve. Reed and his Grandpa started their own tradition of handcrafting wood projects like folding campstools, tile trivets, and tall garden planters which were proudly given to family members on Christmas Eve. They developed a strong bond. When Reed came home on leave it was his practice to stop and see Grandpa first, and if possible, to see him last, just before he returned to duty.
    Meredith’s tradition with Grandpa was to make krumkake every holiday season. He’d run the show, gently guiding, never criticizing, and using his hand-made rolling board and rolling stick. This last year, they made krumkake in the dining room of the nursing home – the good smells attracting much attention from anyone in range. They were special gifts he gave to staff and friends--one last opportunity to share his handiwork with others.
About two weeks before he died, Firemann was hospitalized with pneumonia. While at the hospital, he had visits and phone calls from so many close friends and relatives: the whole Olson clan, Brent and Andrea from Virginia, Feli and Gunnar Vik from Oslo, and even Reed used a computer in a tent in Afghanistan to connect over the internet to a laptop on Firemann's bed so they could both see and hear each other. From Wisconsin, Anna and John Dopp brought a special gift, Firemann's great-granddaughter, Krista, to see him just a few days before he passed. Firemann held Krista and proudly remarked that she had strong Norwegian features. He asked about their plans for Krista's spiritual education. A few days later, an hour after Firemann passed away, Anna met with their Pastor to discuss Krista’s baptism on Easter Sunday. The Pastor remarked that Easter is about new life and the resurrection and how appropriate it would be to celebrate together Firemann’s life and Krista’s new life as a baptized member of the church. This became part of the pastor's Easter message where Firemann was mentioned by name.
    Toward the end, Firemann was difficult to understand at times. I thought of this as I was listening to a CD Firemann loved. It included songs, all in Norwegian, performed by Sissel Kyrkjebo. Some of them were playing in the background of the slide show you saw. You do not have to understand the language to appreciate the beauty of the music. The same was true of Firemann. Once you got to know him you did not have to understand every word he said to appreciate the inner beauty of the man.
    Pam said it best when she said Firemann was a man who could pass from this world without regrets. The only regrets are ours. Rest in peace, Firemann.

Home