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A Word About Paul Lundgren ...................Paul Ryan I've been writing this column a long time. Since 1997, in fact. It was only a monthly blurb in my high school's student newspaper at the time. After I moved to college in Duluth, Minn, I quickly noticed that I wasn't the only "Paul" in town who wrote columns. In fact, my columns were utter crap compared to this "other Paul".
That "other Paul" was Paul Lundgren. And to tell you the truth, he wasn't the "other Paul". I was. His column was running in main newspapers long before this one. Lundgren started out by writing a column for The Budgeteer News, a weekly community newspaper in Duluth. He later moved to the Northland Reader, a more alternative-style weekly in Duluth. A while later, he and many other writers from the Reader moved to the other alternative-weekly paper in town, the Ripsaw. Ever since, the Ripsaw has been the jewel of the city. It's been just over five years since Lundgren's first column. Sadly, without even a word of explanation, last week’s was his last. I never thought I'd feel outright depressed over something like the loss of a newspaper column, but I do. Many of us, without even really knowing it, confide in a weekly column and treat it as a member of the family. When the columnist is excited about something, we get excited as well. When the columnist is angry about some injustice of daily life, we’re also fuming, because our columnist, our friend, has been wronged. Our columnist. The columnist is ours, for better or for worse, because in time the words on that page become a diary that we follow every word of. It's become similar to a weekly visit or phone call from a loved one. Sometimes we agree with this friend of ours, and sometimes we don’t, but we still come back every week to get the scoop on what's happening in their little world. For it has become our little world, too. So today, I - along with many others, I'm sure - felt as though I had lost an old friend. Where do I turn to on Wednesdays now? Where will I get the dose of reality that only comes from knowing that someone else has a life with the same issues, problems and shameful mistakes as mine? Lundgren had the power to make my weird, solo life seem not only mainstream, but important and cool. Reading that Lundgren will no longer write columns was like reading a good book, only to find the last few pages of the story ripped out. I need closure, damnit. Included here is a copy of Lundgren's last column for the Ripsaw. It's short and it's strange, but in a way that allows you to fall asleep at night with a smile on your face.
The column belongs to Ripsaw News, and is copyrighted material. I stole it, and will probably be sued or yelled at loudly. For compensation, I will mention that you can read the Ripsaw online at www.ripsawnews.com. (by Paul Lundgren, printed May 15, 2002 in the Ripsaw) She fits perfectly inside that box. She sits with her face on her knees and her arms wrapped around her legs. This exaggerated fetal position keeps her from getting too cold, but she still shivers. When she gets too cold or happy or angry, she rocks back and forth. This causes the box to move across the room, sometimes banging into walls. When she is feeling overly emotional, she breaks the box open. Most of the time she rocks very gently inside the box. The rocking is like a controlled shiver, a self-hug. She is alone inside the box. There is a lot of success and failure outside the box. Outside the box are angry people and criticism, happy people and delusions. No one can see her inside the box. Sometimes she tightens the grip on her self-hug and squeezes into a corner of the box. She likes to see how tiny she can be, and how alone she can be. The box does not constrict as she gets smaller. Inside the box she can talk to herself. She can think evil thoughts and laugh and drool. Most of the time she cries. Her emotions are safe inside the box. There is one question that troubles her. One question, a thousand variations. "Why am I such a good person?" she asks. "What causes me to be so nice to other people?" There are never any answers inside the box. The box provides no advice, no encouragement, no milk and cookies. It's just a box. She knows the answer to her question anyway. She is nice because she is greedy. She is just as greedy as the rest of us. And she wants to be inside that box for awhile. Well, there's only one real way to end this tribute. Naturally, it will end the way a Lundgren column always has, and always should.
Paul Lundgren is a newspaper columnist and a very nice man.
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