Life of Wry

This is Walter Johnson.  But everyone calls him Swede.  He’s of Swedish heritage (well, yeah), grew up in the mines of northern Minnesota, and loves the Polka.  Really loves the Polka.

We met one another in the mid-80s when he walked into my office one day offering to volunteer.  For a few years, he filed.  He was a great filer.

He’s a veteran of the Korean war.  Following the service, he worked in the auto parts business.  After retiring, in addition to his volunteering, he became a collector and a distributor (he could find a recipient for just about everything he found on the street), worked as a box boy at Albertson’s, had his own business for many years: “Swede’s Cruisin’ for Carts” (the guy who rounds up errant grocery store carts), and now offers his time to the VA hospital pharmacy department.   He has a penchant for musical cards (you know the ones) and never comes to lunch without a few gifts and balloons.

About this time of year, we celebrate our birthdays with a pair of lunches.  He always has a boat load of friendly gossip, a few political opinions, and brings me up to date on his large extended family and current health issues.

The photo doesn’t lie: he’s got a ready smile and a generous heart.