He Came Like a Comet, Blazing His Trail

On behalf of my mother, Mary, my sisters Suzanne and Beth, my Aunt Pat, and the entire extended Laukka family - thank you for taking time to visit this site where – in these days of pandemic – we memorialize and celebrate the life of my father.

I am Mike Laukka, Larry’s youngest child, his business partner, his golf and hunting partner, his fellow lover of Labrador Retrievers, and one of his many great admirers.

Dad was of Finnish descent. Deeply rooted and firmly ingrained in many Finlanders is Sisu - a Finnish cultural construct that can be described as a special strength, a persistent determination to overcome adversity. It’s an almost magical quality, a combination of stamina, perseverance, and courage held in reserve for hard times. It is tenacity of purpose, grit, resilience, and hardiness. But perhaps above all, Sisu is a recklessness that inspires a person to take on something in the face of incredible odds. Without question, Larry Laukka had Sisu.

His life was instructive. He taught us how to live with dignity, integrity, and purpose. And in the end, he showed us how to meet the good Lord with courage and to rejoice in the promise of what lies ahead.

To know someone, to truly understand someone - is to know from where they came. Dad was the son of a son of a Finnish immigrant. For the Laukka’s that came before him, life in America was filled with toil and hardship and very little joy. His father, Albert, was 1 of 8 children. The family lived in such dire conditions that the State intervened and removed 5 of the 8 children from the home. Albert, the youngest, was 1 of the 3 who remained in the home.

Dad’s mother, Mary, was 1 of 8 children. Her mother died when she was 8 years old and shortly thereafter her father abandoned the family. Mary, effectively an orphan, was handed off to older siblings through the years and somehow managed to graduate high school.

At age 17, Mary met Albert. They were two young castoffs that found each other, got married, and looked to the future with a steadfast determination to make a better life for themselves. They had Sisu.

In 1936, during the Great Depression, Dad was born and two years later came Pat, a baby girl. Times were tough, money was tight, and jobs were scarce. But Albert and Mary had each other, they had two healthy children, and they had great hope to experience the American dream. By mischance Albert’s father died, so they took Albert’s mother and an orphaned 16-year-old nephew into their 1-bedroom duplex off Lake Street in Minneapolis. As Dad tells it, his Grandma Emma was a disgruntled old lady and she made life miserable for all. After a few years, the nephew came of age and moved out and Emma eventually died.

It was then that Albert and Mary reached some sort of an epiphany and decided to move the family out to what is now Rosemount, Minnesota where they purchased a small log home, complete with an outhouse and no running water. It was an exciting fresh start. A new normal. Life in the country was simple, comfortable, and downright bucolic compared to the crowded, chaotic, downtrodden life they experienced in the city.

While in Rosemount, Dad had a horse named Jackie, he developed an interest in agriculture, and he joined the 4-H club. 4-H stands for Head, Heart, Hands and Health and the club pledge is:

“I pledge my head to clearer thinking, my heart to greater loyalty, my hands to larger service, and my health to better living, for my club, my community, my country, and my world”.

Dad lived up to that pledge for the next 75 years.

The 4-H club taught him everything a person would ever want or need to know about chickens. Dad must have been a quick study. He started breeding chickens and entered them into a contest at the Dakota County Fair where he won first prize and the opportunity to showcase them at the Minnesota State Fair.

From 3rd to 8th grade he attended a one-room schoolhouse and later he would proudly proclaim that he was the valedictorian of his class, then with a wry smile he would disclose that there were only two other kids in his grade – Doris and Lucille – and neither knew how to read.

While Albert and Mary had the wisdom to know that moving to the country would best serve the development of their adolescent children, they redoubled that wisdom by foretelling that the city would provide a better high school education for their children than that which was offered in the country.

The family moved back to Minneapolis where Dad enrolled at Minneapolis Roosevelt High School and graduated four years later in 1953.

Dad’s mother was a powerful influence in his life. She raised him with a tremendous amount of love and affection. She was a driver and taught him the value of hard work, for she knew that great things happened when maximum effort was applied. Dad’s father was a thoughtful problem solver who loved to build things. The greatest thing he built was an environment where his children could grow and flourish.

Larry Laukka loved to work. In a sing-song manner he would chant, “Work, work, work - a happy life is made up of - work, work, work.” And he never stopped working. At age 81 he closed out his last real estate development, kickstarted Chainbreaker®, a grassroots bike tour of 25, 50, 100 and 180 miles to raise money in support of the University of Minnesota’s Masonic Center for cancer research with the lofty goal of raising $100M, and, as if that were not enough, he set out to start a charter school, all while battling an insidious disease in a weakened condition.

He was intense, he was a visionary, and a natural born leader. It wasn’t necessarily the result that drove him, but rather the experience of creating things, meeting people, helping people, confronting and overcoming challenges, and affecting change.

Those characteristics became the foundation for his career as a residential community developer where, in 1965 he built Windsor Green in New Brighton, Minnesota. It was the first major community association in the region. He would go on to complete over 7,000 units of residential living, spearhead the design/build of the University of Minnesota’s McNamara Center, and create countless other projects across Minnesota.

He wasn’t a dip your toe in the water kind of guy. He jumped in headfirst and he encouraged that approach in others. When I was five years old he took me downhill skiing. There would be no bunny hill for the first run of my life, rather he put me on his lap and up the chairlift we went. Upon reaching the top he pointed me in the right direction and then took off down the hill himself only to look back over his shoulder to say, “Keep up kid”. He would continue to test my mettle for the next 47 years.

He taught me what it means to be a wonderful father. He loved his children unconditionally. He was an active grandfather. He was a disciplinarian, but fair-minded. He would guide and assist, but not direct a path. He was encouraging, supportive, and perhaps more than anything, he loved to teach and to instruct.

He could be mystifying and bewildering. If you were lukewarm or noncommittal to one of his endeavors, he did not hold it against you, but he would quickly move on. The clock was always ticking, he wanted action and he wanted it here and now - so he would place his bets on those that instantly and totally shared his vision.

Building great relationships was of paramount importance. Remarkably, he maintained a six-decade friendship with Ms. Luttgen, his kindergarten teacher. He could relate to people from all walks of life – from tradespeople to policy wonks, from farmers to bureaucrats. He valued character over pedigree, substance over style. He saw potential in everyone. It was not if you were going to do something remarkable, but rather when you were going to do it.

He had a tremendous capacity to give of himself. He was a mentor and a father figure to countless people along the way.

He had emotional intelligence, he treated people respectfully, he was empathetic, and, above all, he was an active listener. Those qualities are rooted in his thirst for knowledge and his desire to understand the points of view of others.

Education was of great importance, and his days as a student at the University of Minnesota profoundly impacted his life. He immersed himself into the entire college experience, he learned much, developed leadership skills at his beloved Theta Chi fraternity, and made scores of friends along the way. He maintained many of those friendships - Fred Friswold, Charlie Hays, and Bob Engstrom, to name a few – for rest of his life.

True to his nature, he spent decades giving back to the University. He had a vision of what he wanted to achieve in his service to his alma mater and he did not stop until that vision became reality.

He married his teenage sweetheart, Mary. It was she who inspired him to go to college in the first place. He adored her and was totally dedicated to her. And she adored him. Although Mom is not of Finnish descent, she possesses Sisu too and it was on full display these past few years as she provided unwavering care and emotional support for Dad.

She kept him on the straight and narrow for he had the uncanny ability to get into all kinds of mischief and wholly unique predicaments. On his last night, we stepped away from being with him and had a bite to eat in the next room. When we returned, Dad had passed away. We gathered around and held him and cried. Mom gave him a kiss, told him she loved him, and then said, “Now don’t get into too much trouble up there”.

He came like a comet, blazing his trail…

We love you, Dad

The Whole of the Moon

By the Waterboys

“I pictured a rainbow

You held it in your hands

I had flashes But you saw the plan

I saw the crescent

You saw the whole of the moon…

Yes, you climbed on the ladder

With the wind in your sails

You came like comet

Blazing your trail

Too high, too far, too soon

You saw the whole of the moon…”