Happ-enings

No matter if you are an avid reader, a great writer, or even a cinephile, one thing that we all learn to love are great characters.

When we think of great characters, many of us will think of the likes of Jay Gatsby from the Great Gatsby, Joey Tribbiani from Friends, or Forest Gump. However, in my almost decade-long career in the newspaper business, the thing that I have discovered is that, around almost every corner, there is a character.

And, often, they are the people that we have come to know and love.

Last week, our little corner of central Nebraska lost one of its biggest characters, and greatest guys. Jeff Friedrichsen, a longtime rural Palmer resident, and a close friend of my family, passed away on Friday at the age of sixty- four. In a small town like Palmer, you know everybody, and there are always those people that are there for you: in good times and in bad, for celebrations and in moments of sorrow. Jeff was one of those people. He was a part of the fabric of that community, even if he may have been one of the most colorful threads in the weave.

Jeff and I were a part of a gang of guys that took multiple trips across the middle of America — and even to the West Coast — to follow the Husker football team. On those trips, Jeff, as a character, was far from an extra. Instead, he often times held the main role.

For instance, on a trip to Chicago to see the Huskers tangle with Northwestern, the gang made a stop in West Branch, Iowa, the birthplace of Herbert Hoover.

While there, at the gift shop, Jeff purchased a replica park ranger hat. You know, the type of brown, wide-brimmed hat that you’ll see in any national park. He then proceeded to wear it for the entire trip. While Chicago may have unique fashion, Jeff’s style while walking down the Miracle Mile – hat and all – may have been a first for the Windy City.

On that same trip, we waited for hours to get a slice of some of the city’s best pizza. After all that wait and hype, and the fact that the pie was world-famous, Jeff wasn’t a fan. In fact, he wouldn’t even eat it.

Thankfully, there was always the Dairy Queen.

Jeff’s sweet tooth and love of soft serve could not be ignored. In fact, on a trip to California to see Nebraska play Fresno State on a steamy Saturday in the fall, our search for a Dairy Queen took us across Fresno – a city that isn’t exactly a mecca for tourists – to a mall that was far less than appealing. Yet, it had a Dairy Queen in the second-floor food court, so, despite the property’s glaring flaws and suspect setting, we made a pitstop.

In fact, after years of Husker trips with Jeff, there remain very few Dairy Queens in Middle America, and the Fresno metro area, that I haven’t patronized. Then again, I’m not complaining!

Another roadside attraction that Jeff didn’t like to pass by were casinos.

From Las Vegas, Nevada to Davenport, Iowa, and a lot of places in between, I have spent many an evening playing cards alongside Jeff in America’s casinos.

It was during a fall night in Sioux City that Jeff reinforced an important life lesson. A dealer had incorrectly paid me, with the error being in my favor. The house rules were that I had to approve of them taking back the pot. Considering I am probably not ahead over my decade and change at the tables, I wanted to keep the money.

Jeff told me to be honest and correct the error. His thought was that my actions would be rewarded.

While I am still waiting for that big payday after following his advice, the experience was an important one. It proved that, no matter how colorful, unique, or even at times embarrassing the characters you surround yourself with are, they are valuable friends eho can have a profound impact on your life.

This week, we will officially lay Jeff to rest during a service on Friday morning.

I have a large collection of appropriate funerary garments: pressed suits, ironed shirts, polished shoes, but I think on Friday I will leave them all hanging in my closet. After all, Windsor knots and cufflinks don’t seem appropriate to wear at the funeral for a guy who wore a stove-pipe hat that he bought in Springfield, Illinois for an entire trip.

Similarly, I don’t think it will be appropriate to cry on Friday either. Sure, all the mourners in the room will be struck with sadness at the loss of such a great family member and friend, but tears will seem out of place for someone who generated so many great memories.

Instead, there should be smiles, laughs, and lots and lots of Dairy Queen ice cream.