A STORY WORTH TELLING
“My old friend, I apologize/For the years that have passed/Since the last time you and I/ Dusted off those memories.”
— Tim McGraw We never forget friends. That’s easy when we see or talk with them. But it’s the ones we lose contact with that linger, those friendships that fostered fond memories.
I met Minnesota native Tom Lund while living in Boerne. He played guitar and sang at local restaurants and entertainment spots.
His wife, Tenlee, had an advertising agency that conducted business with the newspaper I published there during the 1990s, The Boerne Star.
Lund was fun, always upbeat and positive. He graduated from Minnesota State University in 1968, served with the Air Force including time in Vietnam, and returned to civilian life in sales and sales management with U.S. Surgical Corp. He started in Milwaukee, then moved to Dallas and San Antonio, finally settling in Boerne.
Lund was always involved in music. A classic and “outlaw” country music fan, he was also a songwriter.
He wrote songs that, although he never said so, hinted at biographical bits put to music.
Lyrics from life, which is typical of songwriters.
The songs reminded me of the old story about the young blues musician consulting one of the elder legendary artists for advice.
Sizing up the young man before responding, the old musician said, “You won’t never be no blues singer driving a Cadillac with hun’ert dollar bills in your pocket. You gots to live heartbreak and sorrow before you can sing the blues.”
I got that feeling from Lund’s repertoire, including tunes like “I Can’t Think About You Now” and “My Losin’ Was Really My Gain.”
Others had whimsical titles such as “You’re Just a Pimple on the Backside of My Life” and “Honey Won’t You Please Be My Ex-Wife.”
The lyrics reflected brief views of lost love, old friendships and haunting memories of Vietnam.
Despite whatever lurked in his lyrics, Lund’s life was a fascinating success story; actually, two successes.
I invited him to tell them as a speaker at a Boerne civic club where he related the details utilizing his gifted storytelling and songwriting style.
The stories were about laparoscopic surgery, a procedure used as early as 1901 that didn’t flourish until 75 years later with advancements in technology.
Enter Lund, a tall, outgoing guy who dominated not only in size but with smiles, personality and a Midwestern accent deep in the heart of Texas.
He never met a stranger and always made people feel like a friend from the first handshake.
These were traits that, no doubt, contributed to his becoming one of the leading sales reps for surgical tools when laparoscopic surgery surged in the early 1980s.
The “new,” increasingly popular medical procedure surgery ultimately opened doors for another aspect of medicine: malpractice suits. Enter Lund for the second time.
As the country’s leading sales rep for surgical instruments a decade earlier, his phone number now topped the call list for expert witnesses in legal proceedings.
“Twice,” Lund said, “laparoscopic surgery provided successful careers for me.
Something I never dreamed of.”
His good fortune allowed him time in Boerne to pursue his love for music performing solo and other occasions under the name of “Back Roads” with a young Boerne vet tech.
Lund was a lover of all kinds of music. So much so that he organized a music festival at the Kendall County Fairgrounds in 1995 and called it the “Texas Music Jamboree.” It featured a varied lineup.
Joining Back Roads was Conjunto-flavored music from Conjunto Los Aguilas, the duet ballads of Brian and Bonnie, Tom and Classic Country, and the Cajun sounds of Swamp Angel. And those are just the ones I remember.
I left Boerne in 1998. The Lunds moved “home” to Brainard, Minnesota, a few years later. We lost contact.
Time gets away from us much too quickly. We turn around twice, and our children are grown with families of their own. Lives go in different directions. Friends that we laughed with, made memories with, move on. And for some, earthly time expires too soon.
When I began looking for Lund a while back, I found an obituary. His time ran out in 2022.
So, tonight, I’ll strum a few guitar chords and sing once again Lund’s song about best friends.
Maybe I’ll even take a stab at McGraw’s song, which is about vowing to get better at dusting off memories made with old friends.
While I still can.
— Contact Aldridge at leonaldridge@gmail. com. Other Aldridge columns are archived at leonaldridge.com
