From Josh Bradley

Nels was my brother. In all reality I spent more time with him through junior high, high school and college than my own family. He and I were part of the Three Amigos, including Bryant. We did everything together. I don’t even know where to start with the memories, but we collected them in spades together. Almost everything with Nels was memorable, one way or another.

Nels was a fantastic musician, and how he played his music was how he lived life. Sure, he knew the rules and techniques of music. But where he really thrived was in his freestyle playing. I remembered him playing the viola to make a living (though he clearly loved it), but I more remember him loving to sit at the piano and close his eyes and let his hands make magic. He would start with a few notes and that would inspire some others, and then he was in the middle of a bold melody that somehow just worked out. That’s how he lived his life as well. He had the joy and creativity, and he let life flow one moment at a time.

Nels loved to be active. He would go to the Sports Mall from the junior high years on and was instrumental in inspiring me to enjoy taking care of my body while having fun at it. We would go and swim or play racquetball or just get on the Stairmaster. It didn’t matter. It was just fun. I think that our pass to the Sports Mall was the only one that required you to jump the fence on the side for entrance. And that was so Nels too.

We loved to hike and bike together. One day we spontaneously decided that we were going to go mountain biking in Neff’s Canyon. I wondered if that were possible, but Nels didn’t. He knew that we could make it happen. So when the trail became so rocky and steep as to be unrideable we just picked up our bikes over our shoulders and hoofed it straight up the mountain. He was sure that we could just find a good trail into Millcreek and ride out. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more dehydrated and bonked as I was when we decided to ultimately turn around and leave the way we came. How ambitious.

We went with my family biking on the White Rim Trail in central Utah and spent three days and two nights together. The days were fantastic, because every trail was an adventure and every bend in the road another race waypoint. At the end of the second day we had some serious chafing going on under the shorts, so we stood at the top of the mountain and let it all hang out. We were all-natural in God’s beautiful nature and we didn’t think twice of it. We just loved the moment and the freedom. While I couldn’t do that any more, that was the beauty of that era and Nels inspired a certain openness and comfort with yourself. Of course, at night I didn’t get much sleep in Nels’ tent because of all the nose blowing and snoring. I swear that I thought I was caught in a tornado when I awoke to find used tissue swirling around the tent by the power of his deep snoring.

When in college Nels started many a business. I always wondered how he knew how to do all the things that he became professional at, but Nels could figure anything out. I was his brief employee for a roofing company and remember spending some hot summer days on a tarpaper roof, receiving instruction from Nels, the professional roofer. He was also a professional water feature artist. He built a handful of homes. If he didn’t know how to do it, he figured it out, because nothing could stop Nels from reaching for his dreams.

The three amigos in junior high all bought road bikes and we got ourselves around town. Other people bought mountain bikes, but not us. We wanted to go fast. We wanted to get from home to Woolley’s before a car could. And we did. We went everywhere racing. Life was fast and exciting in those days. And it was also sometimes slow and satisfying. “Hey Nels, what do you want to do after school today?” “Let’s make banana cream pies. It is so fun!” And that’s what we did. We enjoyed every minute together. I wanted to hang out with Nels often enough that I ended up doing plenty of Paulsen chores. Even doing the dishes was fun when hanging out with Nels. The Paulsens had a dishwasher, but we preferred to do them by hand.

Nels anchored my social circle in high school and college. If we didn’t have anything planned we knew that the Paulsens would have something brewing. We had some great group dates, going up the canyon to do some dutch oven cooking or going for a night hike. We would invite people over to the Paulsen home for a bonfire and barbecue and Nels was always one of the ringleaders.

As I write some of these random memories, I’m sure that these mentioned are not the most important things that we did together, but one memory leads to another and it seems therapeutic to put them down on paper. He impacted my life through all these little things that he did and for who he was.

I can’t remember exactly when it was that we started to grow apart. Nels was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, but in those early days he managed it well, and life was still great together. Over time I think that we each got serious in our other relationships. Life became busy and we saw each other less and less. It seems that from there I remember seeing Nels infrequently, and his demeanor was often different from the radiant one I grew up with. He was more sedate or down often. I couldn’t tell if it was the disease or the cure that changed one of my best friends. I think that I slowly mourned the loss of a wonderful friend, long before I got the phone call from Bryant this week letting me know that one of closest friends had passed away.

I look forward to a joyful reunion with Nels in heaven years from now. He will have a perfect body and brain, unrestrained by mental illness or dulling medications. He will love me and those all around him. I can count on him being generous and loving, no different than I remember. He will give me an embrace because that is the Nels that I remember and love. Going forward I will cherish the memories that we made together, and I will look forward to that joyous reunion of kindred spirits.