Margaret and others,
This is such a beautiful tribute to Nels. Thank you for setting this up, and thanks for all who have written. I've been reading all the comments and can't stop weeping/laughing at the same time. Although, I can't help but think how oddly appropriate that reaction is when discussing a person like Nels, who lived his life in exclamation marks.
My first introduction to Nels happened through music. I was only 14 or 15, and Nels and I became stand partners in the youth orchestra that Jack Ashton ran on the side. I remember feeling so young and insecure, wondering if this handsome high school senior would be embarrassed about having to sit with someone as young and insignificant as I was. Quite to the contrary, on that first meeting I remember Nels placing his thick hand on my shoulder in his characteristic way, smiling at me, and telling me how happy he was to meet me, and that I must be someone special to be there. My insides still glow with the memory.
From that point on, any opportunity I had to be with Nels was a sought-after joy. Though I know that our talking in orchestra sometimes drove Jack crazy, it seemed like Nels couldn’t help himself. He was just so eager to better understand people, and to share his delight in living, that expecting silence during such times seemed as futile as asking a happy toddler to remain still. He never meant harm by it. In fact, the Nels I remember never meant harm to anyone. Rather, he sought to uplift and cherish every individual around him, regardless of their appearance, age or circumstances.
Some of my favorite memories involve not only his beloved “love chariot,” but also his old, beat-up boat, which we all affectionately referred to as “The Mastercrap.” I think he bought the old thing, (originally intended to be a fishing boat) for about $1500. He was thrilled about it, and couldn’t use it enough that summer. I still laugh out loud every time I think about when we took the thing to go waterskiing at Rockport one day. By the looks of it, I thought it was darn well near impossible to try to ski behind that piece of junk, but Nels was absolutely indomitable in his determination. Because the old boat lacked the necessary muscle to pull a skier up out of the water, Nels got creative, and somehow talked us into taking turns sitting out on the bow the boat, thereby providing enough counterweight to pull up a skier. Whoever held the honored position at the time had to hold on for dear life because the Mastercrap was clearly not designed for this sort of thing, and the parts we held to were brown with rust. Miraculously, however, it worked—and when Nels would bail out the bottom of the boat in between each skier, he would blissfully exclaim, “Isn’t this the best boat?!” The contentment was contagious, and we all felt a deep sense of satisfaction when, at the end of the summer, Nels sold the Mastercrap for the same amount he bought it for.
It seemed like Nels could get people to break out of their shell and do all sorts of things that they normally wouldn’t. I still recall going to the Utah Symphony with he and a large group of friends. All of us dressed up in our most formal attire, (just because we could, of course), and yakked on our way home while crammed like sardines into the big Woolley suburban. As we halted at the final stoplight on 5th south, right before entering the freeway, Nels exuberantly shouted out, “Chinese fire drill!” And of course, we all reacted by jumping out in our taffeta and tuxes. People stared at us like we were complete morons, but Nels could not stop guffawing, snorting, and repeating, “That was awesome!” In response, I couldn’t help giggling over and over, either.
Time spent with Nels was just like that for most of us, I think. His affection for those around him, and his zeal with which he lived made life more magical for all of us. He will be sorely missed, but I can’t help but think that this opportunity he has given each of us to remember the goodness, and savor those we love even more, would make him truly happy.
Love to you and yours, Nels. May those on the other side find as much joy and exuberance in being with you as we have.
Mandy (Ridge) Oaks
