Pam DesMarais and Sheila Scott met at Washburn during tenth grade. Many of Sheila’s memories of her friendship with Pam have faded over the last 33 years. The ones that remain include walking from Pam’s house to Grand Dairy to buy candy and pop, or hanging out at Pam’s listening to music and talking about boys. Your typical teenage girl fare. They went roller skating regularly at the Roller Gardens in St. Louis Park, looking at – you guessed it – boys. In sophomore year they took the film class offered during “Interim,” watching movies at the theater in the basement of the IDS Center. “It felt like we were playing hooky, going downtown in the middle of a school day!” laughs Sheila. Pam married shortly after graduating from Washburn and had twin sons who are now grown.

“Pam was shy and very sweet,” says Sheila. “I wish I had stayed in touch with her.”

Jan "Spike" Gudmestad Tousey
Jan died of cancer on May 6, 2009. A tribute to her is forthcoming.

Lisa C. Drake of Grand Ledge, Michigan, passed away June 16, 2012. She was born August 4, 1958 in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Lisa received a Bachelor of Science from ST. OLAF College, a fellow of the Society of Actuaries and was the Senior Vice President and Chief Actuary for Jackson National Life. Lisa is survived by her husband of twenty-five years, Gary; children, Brandon of Arizona and Brittany of Ann Arbor; parents Gunval and Elizabeth (Bursell) Gulbrandson and sister Beth Peterson both of Minnesota. The family will receive friends Tuesday, June 19, 2012 from 5-8:00 pm at the Holihan-Atkin Funeral Home, Grand Ledge. A private funeral service will be held Wednesday with interment to follow at Union Cemetery, Oneida Twp., Eaton Co., MI. In Lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be given to the Susan G. Komen for the Cure, Mid-Michigan Affiliate, P.O. Box 4368, East Lansing, Michigan 48826 or Ele's Place, Administrative Office, 1145 W. Oakland Avenue, Lansing, Michigan 48915.

Online condolences and memories at www.holihanatkin.com.
Also, see her FaceBook for messages and a tribute from her family and friends.

Lisa J. Hawkey, age 52, of Richfield, died August 7, 2011. She was a talented interior and garden designer who transformed the mundane and the ordinary into the elegant and original. She was well-known for her love of hats, vintage clothing, finger sandwiches and champagne. She is survived by her mother, Alicia (Guerra); father, David; brother, Chris; sisters-in-law, Mary and Gayle, the love of her life, Peter Zak, and many aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews and friends. She was preceded in death by her brother, David.
Published in Star Tribune on August 10, 2011.

Scott Lloyd Johnston, age 53, of Minneapolis, passed away Oct. 11, 2011. Preceded in death by his father, Richard. He was a loving, caring, & gentle father, son, brother, & uncle. His impact on the world cannot be measured. He was dearly loved & will be missed by those whose lives he touched. Survived by daughters, Leah & Nikki; mother, Carolyn; sister, Stacy; nieces, Jeana & Siena; & his beloved cat, Key; as well as many other relatives & friends. Published in Star Tribune on October 13, 2011.

Visit Lisa's guest book on Star Tribune's website.

In high school, Tammy's talents flowered – a great singer in Choraliers and a standout Millermates dancer. Her blue Pontiac was an iconic conveyor of good-time girls, seventies-style.

I don’t think any of us who were friends of Tammy's in high school knew that she had cancer.  We had all lost touch with her, sadly.  Her mom, who has since passed away also, told us about the cancer at the funeral, that Tammy had wasted away drastically over a long period of illness.

At Tammy's funeral at Mount Olivet in Minneapolis, it was sad and yet wonderful to see her children Jon-Paul and Kristin.  Tammy's looks were so evident in each of their beautiful faces. I'd like to ask anyone reading this to keep Tammy's children, who've lost their mother way too soon, in their prayers.

From Tim Leslie: I knew Tammy from our years together in junior and senior high school. I have fond memories of her and the many talents she had and shared. I recall attending one of her tap dance performances at Holy Angels High School one summer night. I can still see her smiling and dancing on that stage.

From Paul Spika:  I was a classmate of Tammy’s at Ramsey Junior High as well as Washburn.  I recall a trick she would play on our 8th grade algebra teacher, Mr. Hatch, who was a bit hard of hearing. From the front of the class, Tammy would let out a high-pitched, yet subtle, whine that caused Mr. Hatch to adjust his hearing aid. I mentioned this to her at our 20th Washburn reunion and she just smiled.  Too soon for this world to lose a woman with such a great sense of humor and intelligence.

From Jaci Strandlund Smolund: I was sad to read Tammy's obituary. I haven't seen her since Washburn but have thought about her from time to time. My greatest memory is of a tap dance piece that she choreographed for the dance line. Everyone seemed to get it instantly - except me - so Tammy spent 3-4 hours with me going through each phrase until I finally got it. She was a talented dancer and a patient teacher. My condolences to her kids and brother.

From Martha Werler: I have so many fond memories of Tammy from high school and the next several years. Tammy gave my son (who is now 17) a baby blanket with that all-important satin border. It was dearly loved by him and, after many, many re-attachments of the satin, now is loved by his cousin who is two and a half. This is just one small example of her imprint on me and others.

From Erin Scully Sheehan: I sat next to Tammy in Seńor Austin's Spanish class during our sophomore year at Washburn, where we played "Cambiese" regularly. Tammy was so intelligent and had this caustic sense of humor that I really appreciated.   Tammy was an important presence in the Washburn Class of 1976.

Bruce died unexpectedly on December 2, 2012 from complications due to an injury from an accidental fall. A tribute to Bruce from the Institute of Production & Recording can be found here. Bruce was a mentor and role model for many of the students at IPR.

We invite you to add your comments and memories to our on-line Guest Book (feature coming soon, please check back).

I volunteered to write this memoriam back in 2006 around the time of our 30th class reunion and I was excited and honored to do it. I sent a bunch of emails. I tracked down Mike’s older brother, Mark, to fill in the blanks between high school and Mike’s death in 1992. I made a big deal of the project to myself and to everyone else. But when it came time to actually write about Mike, I couldn’t put two words together. I don’t remember why, but knowing me I probably expected to write the most elegant and touching memoriam of all time and couldn’t pull it off. After several weeks of frustration and self-imposed pressure, I finally gave up. In my mind I was just deferring it, but weeks turned into months and then years. Well, this morning, Saturday October 23, 2010, more than four years later, I found myself laying in bed at 5:00 A.M. thinking about Mike and decided it’s time. So here goes …

I don’t remember meeting Mike for the first time but I think it happened about halfway through grade school at Annunciation. I would have to consult Tim Strawman about this. Tim is the historian of my childhood and remembers everything. But I do know that during my last few years at Annunciation and through ninth grade at Anthony, Mike and I were tight.

He and I spent most of our time out cruising – either on foot or by bicycle. But we would occasionally hang out in his awesome attic bedroom that consisted of the entire third floor of his house. His parents probably stuck him up there so they didn’t have to hear him play his drums, but to this day that was the coolest kid’s bedroom I have ever seen. I remember taking the shortcut between Mike’s house and Annunciation hundreds of times, winding between houses and garages. At some point Mike laid a big gob of spit mixed with chocolate on the window of one of the garages along the route and that spot famously stayed on that window for years through sun and rain and cold. It may still be there for all I know.

Mike had a way of creating legend status around things that he did – like “The Chocolate Spot” on the garage window. It’s not that he bragged or consciously tried to build himself up. The guy was just larger than life and had an aura about him. Another example is his faces. Mike liked to make faces and had names for them: “Apple” and “Tarantula” were probably the most famous, and both were accompanied by great sound effects. Anyone who knew Mike at Annunciation surely remembers these. Some other trivia about the legendary Mike Melody:

• He could reach back into his throat, grab his epiglottis (look it up), and pull it until it stretched out of his mouth.
• In addition to “Apple” and “Tarantula,” Mike used to press his face hard against glass and inflate his mouth so that his cheeks and lips spread way out. It looked hilarious from the other side of the glass. I’m sure he had a name for this one as well but I don’t remember it (Mr. Strawman?). One time at someone’s house he did it against a window and somebody on the other side hit the glass and it shattered, slicing Mike’s nose and lip wide open. My mom drove him to the emergency room to have his face stitched up.
• He invented the “Leaky Faucet,” where he flicked his finger against his cheek and made a noise that sounded incredibly like dripping water. I perfected the technique myself and have tried many times to pass this tribal knowledge on to my son with no success so far.
• He wore jeans almost exclusively (I rarely remember seeing Mike in shorts other than in gym class) and he never let his mom wash them. After a few months they would literally stand up by themselves. I remember Mike being furious one time because his mom washed a pair of jeans he had just finished “breaking in.” They went immediately from cardboard stiff and jet black to soft and washed out.
• We used to love to jump our Stingrays off of any curb, stairs, or obstacle we could find. One time at Kenny Park we were jumping off a big mound of dirt behind one of the baseball diamonds and I had my little sister’s girl-style Stingray. I let Mike jump it once and when he landed the frame broke in half. Oops!
• He somehow became adept at picking locks and of course taught me everything he knew. We used that knowledge for nefarious purposes on several occasions. I will not be passing this tribal knowledge on to my son.
• He taught me that a banana is made up of three segments that can be separated (like an orange). It doesn’t come up a lot, but I don’t think I’ve met anyone since then who knew this. He also turned me on to peanut butter and banana sandwiches.
• He and I used to talk on the phone for hours in the evening like little girls. I remember one marathon conversation where we tried to name every “Gilligan’s Island” episode ever broadcast, and I don’t think we missed many.
• In eighth grade Mike started packing prodigious tuna sandwiches for lunch, so I of course had to copy my mentor. It became a ritual for both of us to pack three of these huge tuna sandwiches. The only problem was that Mike was twice my size. I always struggled to choke those babies down.

When I said that Mike was larger than life, I meant it both figuratively and literally. The guy was huge! Big, fast, strong – and an amazing athlete. From football to baseball to floor hockey, Mike was a stud. He was a star running back in football until he quit playing after ninth grade (more on that later). It was funny to hear years later that the guys who played football against us out of Lynnhurst Field saw Mike as a fearsome and almost mythical figure. But Mike was definitely a gentle giant. He would have been scary at that age as a linebacker or safety, but I don’t even remember Mike playing defense. I’m guessing he didn’t like to hit people. He also could have been the baddest dude for sure at Annunciation and Anthony, but I never saw Mike in a fight and never saw him pick on anyone physically. He could tear people to shreds verbally – but he did it in a way that made everyone laugh (even his victim).

Most people probably remember Mike as a clown and possibly as a troublemaker, and he was both at times. But there was much more to him than that. He was not only a man among boys physically. He also had a maturity and wisdom that were ahead of his years. And there were many contrasts. He could be loud and loved to perform, but he also had a quiet confidence and never bragged. He was physically menacing with his size and his (at times) huge afro, but he was truly a gentle soul. He was not a good student, but he was curious and clever and very wise in many ways. He was extremely “mischievous,” but was a good kid at heart. Mike and I got into a lot of trouble together, but we never did anything mean-spirited.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but looking back I see Mike as kind of a big brother to me and, I think, to a lot of the other kids at Annunciation. He was a leader, but not overtly. And it felt good to be around Mike. Those are intangible skills that could have served him very well later in life, but unfortunately that did not happen.

Mike and I gradually parted ways after ninth grade. I barely knew him or even saw him at Washburn. He tried out for football briefly sophomore year but didn’t stay with it. We were hanging out with different people by then and I know he was into drugs. I’m not even sure he graduated. I think the last time I saw Mike was when he called me one night, probably during senior year, and needed a jump for his car. I vaguely remember being annoyed that he called but I drove over and gave him the jump. The car was parked behind the Boulevard Theater. By then I didn’t even know Mike anymore and I don’t think we had much to say to each other. A sad last chapter to what was once a great friendship.

I thought about Mike very infrequently during the ensuing years until my mom mentioned on the phone that she had seen Mike’s obituary, and that he had died of AIDS. This would have been in 1992. I was shocked to say the least, but it didn’t hit me hard emotionally because I had been gone from Minneapolis for more than ten years by then and had almost completely lost touch with everyone I had known back here. I got back in contact by email with Tim Strawman shortly after 9/11, and then came the 30th reunion in 2006 where my youth all came flooding back to me. It was at that point that I finally started to think about Mike. I remembered all the good times, but I also wondered why I let him drift completely out of my life and why I didn’t try to help him when I knew he was in trouble. I had a chance to reconnect behind the Boulevard Theatre that night, but instead of seeing Mike, my best friend from grade school, I saw a person I had no interest in being around. I understand now that I was in many ways just as screwed up as Mike at that time. I’m sad that things did not turn out differently, but there was nothing I could have done to help Mike at that point in my life.

In some ways I’m glad I did not know Mike as an adult. For me, he is frozen in time as that incredible, fun, and hilarious man-child from my youth. I had a phone conversation with Mike’s brother, Mark, after the reunion and learned some details of the years leading up to Mike’s death. But those are not the things I want to remember about Mike. I’m sure he was just as gentle and kind and engaging as an adult as he was when I knew him. Mike left his mark and forged his legend before he reached high school, and he left everyone who knew him during those years with wonderful memories of a very special soul. Wherever you are now, Mike, I love you. And I’m sorry I wasn’t around when you needed me most.

Mike died on January 15, 1992 at the age of 34.

Debora Ann Olson, age 57 of Buffalo, passed away Monday, February 8, 2016 at her home surrounded by her family. Debora was born May 7, 1958 in Moorhead, Minnesota, the daughter of Clayton Duane and Darlene Mae (Stroschein) Moen. Debi was a 1976 graduate of Washburn High School in Minneapolis and become a cosmetologist following high school. She later co-founded American Concrete in 1986 with her husband, Miles.

On June 16, 1979 Debora Ann Moen married her high school sweetheart, Miles Kermit Olson at Messiah Lutheran Church in Minneapolis by Pastor Radditz. The two were blessed with three children. The family moved to Buffalo in 1992 where she raised her children and became a 4-H leader in Wright County; was a volunteer for the school, church, and food shelf, and she played on Monday night bowling leagues. She loved horses, gardening, knitting, crocheting, sewing, reading, traveling, cooking, and time spent with her family.

Arrangements are by The Peterson Chapel St. Michael/Albertville Funeral Home in St. Michael. 763-497-5362.

Debora’s full obituary is available here.

Haley, Barbara Jean (Moosbrugger) 9/15/1958 -9/23/2016 of St. Paul, passed away with grace and dignity in Our Lady of Peace Hospice. Preceded in death by father Charles Moosbrugger. Survived by husband David and daughter Sarah; mother Nancy Moosbrugger, nine brothers and sisters, four brothers and sisters in law and 28 nieces and nephews. Barb was a graduate of the U of MN Law School, and a long-time employee of Travelers Insurance, whose kindness and compassion made her journey much less difficult.

Barbara’s full obituary is available here.

From Lisa Gulbrandson Drake: I have many memories of Sue. She was a talented piano player. There were the many bike adventures, be it to West High School for driver’s education or to Julie Voigt’s cabin in Afton. There were the times we worked together at Cathedral of the Pines camp on work staff and as counselors. The one memory that comes back most vividly these days is the night we slept in Sue’s portable screen porch and snuck out to tee-pee boys’ houses at about 3:00 in the morning (Richard “Lars” Larson and Jeff “Mohawk” Machacek?). It was thought to be harmless, but frightful to me now as I realize we put ourselves in danger by roaming the streets at that time.

From Lynn Blewett: Sue Reid was an integral part of the WHS class of 1976. She took her life the summer after graduation. Her family and friends were devastated and many of us have never really gotten over losing such a good friend.

Sue had friends from all across the different groups at WHS. She went to Burroughs Elementary School, Ramsey Junior High, and met up with the Anthony Junior High kids at Washburn. Sue was fun, funny, full of life and very active! A quick look through the 1975 and 1976 year books shows pictures of Sue involved in many activities at Washburn.

Sue sang with the Girls Choir and a smaller ensemble called Goliards. She was the secretary of Girls Choir our senior year and, along with Kathy Graning, was often the piano accompanist at our many elaborate choir concerts. Mr. Lydell was an important figure in Sue’s life. We worked hard and all learned to love choral music. Sue took the very challenging Music Theory course our senior year.

Sue was on the track team in 1975, the year the team was first in conference. For the Millwheels talent show, Sue was part of a group of 14 girls who did a silly routine to the Shirley Temple song “Be Optimistic.” Sue was also a member of the Senior Board that met once a week to plan social events at Washburn.

There was an article about Sue’s death in the Star and Tribune on January 16, 1977. Her parents shared their story in the hopes of helping others. The title of the article was “Julie, a teen-ager with no apparent problems, took her own life.” While they changed the names, the article was honest about their concern for Sue and their inability to help her. I think today maybe there would have been more active intervention to help Sue get through this difficult time. When I think of Sue now, I think back to those happy carefree days and remember what an important part Sue played in making Washburn a great place to be.

From Erin Scully Sheehan: I was reluctant to comment on my thoughts about Sue because we were never close friends or confidants. We shared a cabin at Cathedral of the Pines camp the summer before tenth grade. We were in the same home room. We knew a lot of the same people. And, we socialized a fair amount during Senior Year--mostly making meals and hanging out with Julie Voigt, Jeanine Ferguson, and Cathy Fahey.

So, why was Sue’s death a milestone in my life and the lives of so many others? Those who knew her well and those who just knew who she was?

There are several reasons.

The most obvious was that Sue seemed to be a happy, “normal” girl. She was smart, witty, and energetic. She came from a loving family and lived in a pretty home in a great neighborhood. She had friends and interests. She had plans to attend college and become a dietician.

The timing of Sue’s death was particularly disturbing. Only one month before we gathered for her wake and funeral, we were tossing our caps in the air at graduation, excited about leaving Washburn and embarking on our futures. I remember wondering, naively at the time, what could have happened during that month? Especially since I had seen her during that month and she had seemed “normal”? How could anyone so young and with so much potential take her life?

Sue’s death rocked our worlds because it left us wondering whether we could trust our perceptions of the people in our lives. In other words, how well do we really ever know our friends and family members? Who else did we know who was suffering on the inside while appearing to be happy and “normal” on the outside?

And finally, those closest to her wondered why she had not confided in them and, even if she had, whether they could have done something to help her.

I have been treated for depression for many years and have a child who has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, also known as manic depression. I am grateful for the many resources and treatment options we have now, as well as the gradual dissipation of the stigma once associated with mental illness. I cannot help but think how her life might have been different if these same opportunities had been available to Sue some thirty years ago.

From Julie Voigt: I have powerful and emotional memories of Sue, so full of life, laughing with a wide grin across her face, singing in the choir, partying with friends. Everyone loved being with her for her great sense of humor and dry wit. She was also one of the most sensitive people that I have known, genuinely caring and deeply feeling. Even though her life had much joy, as some of us knew at the time Sue was also burdened with haunting personal concerns and uncertainties that seemed overpowering at the time. Many of us had similar experiences during high school, but somehow we got through it with just a few scrapes and minor bruises. For Sue, the intensity of it all was overwhelming – even though she rarely showed it.

Sue had many wonderful friends, and I’m so fortunate to have known her and to be one of those friends. I never will completely comprehend her suicide and am saddened by her wonderful life cut short. But I think I’ve finally gotten past the regretful “if only I had been there…” thought that has been deeply embedded in my soul all these years. And I choose to remember her with the utmost respect and love as a person who truly changed lives and whose passion for her friends and for joy in life is a bright spot in all of our memories.

Sue Reid died on July 12, 1976 at the age of 18.

Raedean passed away on February 29, 2016. More information will be posted soon.

Shortly after graduation, Jeff, Mike and a couple of buddies did what many of us only dreamed about doing: they packed up everything they owned, drove to Aspen, Colorado, and became ski bums for two years. They skied all day and worked at restaurants or in construction at night.

Mike returned to Minnesota and attended the University of Minnesota for three years, majoring in math and physics (Mr. Bader would have been impressed). Mike eventually decided to pursue a career in carpentry. Some years later, he fell from some scaffolding, causing severe damage to his wrists and skull. Jeff says that Mike was never the same after this accident.

While Jeff’s memories of Mike have dimmed over the years, his affection for Mike is crystal clear. “Mike was a smart guy with a great sense of humor. He had a big heart. He loved listening to rock ‘n roll and riding motorcycles,” recalls Jeff. “I really miss him.”

Mike Wagner took his life on February 9, 1989 at the age of 30. He had two brothers who also attended Washburn, Gary and Scott.