Paul Durand and his twin brother, Rene, were born to Dr. Casimir and Anna Durand on October 24, 1917. Paul lived portions of his life in Minneapolis, southern France, Prior Lake and, while serving in World War II, the Aleutian Islands of Alaska. He enjoyed his final years in Faribault, Minnesota, where he lived with his loving wife of 44 years.

Paul passed away on June 2, 2007. His son offered the following eulogy, in kind remembrance.

On behalf of my family, I thank each of you for being here today. You make us stronger. Without your friendship this world would indeed be a lonely place.

It would be easy for me to stand here and brag about my father, enumerating his many fine qualities and accomplishments. But he was a humble man, and I’m sure he wouldn’t want me to do that. So instead I’d like to share a few memories.

“What a view!” Dad would often exclaim upon arriving at Lake Pepin, one of his favorite places on earth. “What a view.” He loved the bluffs lining the open expanse of water. As a child, this was where he learned how to swim. As an adult, this is where he took his friends and family to hike, to picnic, and to buy clover honey from an old beekeeper.

Dad also loved the view at Lake Superior. In fact, he and Mom spent part of their honeymoon there. Most every summer our family would camp on the North Shore, using a small canvas pup tent that leaked in the rain.

Dad never grew tired of the view at Prior Lake. His parents built a cottage there in 1928. It was there, as teenagers, that he and his twin brother Rene spent their summers becoming proficient swimmers and hikers, exploring the countryside barefoot, making maps, and naming the local geographical features. With the exception of his years in the army, and final years here in Faribault, Dad spent most of his life in Prior Lake.

There in Prior Lake, we remember Dad sitting in a lawn chair on hot summer afternoons, reading the newspaper, occasionally looking up to admire the lake view. We remember him working at the dining room table, maps sprawled out, index cards carefully organized in gray metal trays, books piled high. We remember him playing a favorite record, dancing with Sue and me on a large braided rug. We remember him reading books in the rocking chair, always with a dictionary close at hand, ready to confirm the etymology and nuances of any unusual words. We remember him, waiting on his hands and knees for Sue and me to run across the room and pile on top of him.

In seeking out the next great view, Dad would always choose the road less traveled. Ideally the road would be gravel, winding between green hills and blue lakes. He would sing as the car bounced down the road, no specific route planned, instead relying on his sense of direction and some luck to deliver a pleasant afternoon. He called this “bumming around”, and it often included impromptu stops to visit a friend. He wouldn’t hesitate to knock on an unfamiliar door, hoping to meet someone that shared an interest, or that might help him find the Dakota or Ojibwa name for some obscure lake.

Dad also had a beautiful view of what was important in life. Although for a time he worked two jobs to provide for his family, he preferred to live in the moment. He gave his full attention to those near to him, finding happiness in each day.

Until his last days, Dad always met friends and strangers alike with a firm handshake and an easy laugh. He had a genuine respect for everyone he met. Each person was unique and interesting, but perhaps even more so if they happened to be of French or Native American heritage.

It was Dad’s view that it is the simple things in life that are to be appreciated: A pleasing landscape, a bit of dark chocolate, a friend’s laughter. Combined with Mom’s gentle and loving nature, these were the things that sustained him well for 89 years.

Paul is buried at Maple Lawn Cemetery in Faribault, Minnesota, near the grave of Taopi.

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