Dear friends and riders,
I understand that the memorial will be held sometime next Spring, depending on Noel's daughter Amara's availability, as she lives out of the country. It would be incredible if it coincided with the Three Speed Tour, though I'm not sure that's in the cards. His other daughter Aislinn is currently working on this and many other tasks related to his passing.
Tribute to Noel
My uncle Noel passed away this week at 85 years of age. He was on a bicycle tour. He fell asleep in his pup tent and didn't wake up. It was pretty much the perfect way for him to go, not tragic. I loved him. I've loved him since I was a little boy. Growing up in rural Minnesota, with its Midwestern conventions and gently conservative ethos—even though everyone in my family to a person is a lifelong Democrat—he was the black sheep who gave me hope. He made different choices in his life. Maybe not all good ones, but they were his own. He split his time between a cabin he built from an old meat cooler on some undeveloped land in Wisconsin and my grandfather's 1940s deer hunting cabin in northern Minnesota. He loved old bicycles, picking blueberries, and cross-country skiing along the unmarked trails of the north country, in temperatures cold enough to freeze your nose hairs on the inhale at high noon. He was a great letter writer and never sent an email in his lifetime. Not one. He taught voice lessons for many years and sang sincerely without bravado, with a voice surprisingly delicate for his athletic frame. He was beautiful and caring, with movie star good looks in his youth and a Santa Claus beard and disposition in old age. He was deeply skeptical of government and prone to semi-informed ranting. He was always kind to me. He and my father took us kids skiing and let us run feral in the north woods. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of sleeping in the hunting cabin heated only by a leaky pot-bellied stove, listening to the eerie squeaking noise the snow makes as you walk to the outhouse when it's 40 below, and watching Noel dance and sing in the mornings in his torn and stained union suit long underwear as he made buckwheat pancakes. He co-founded the annual Lake Pepin Three Speed Bicycle Tour and perfectly embodied the quirky spirit of the event. Noel had a long love affair with Volkswagen Beetles; his property in Wisconsin was once littered with parts and project cars. Noel kept bees for many years. He drove the hives around his property in an old International Scout. Neither front door worked, so he had to crawl through the back window, past 1000s of unhappy bees, whenever he needed to get in or out. Did I mention that he lived in a meat cooler? These anecdotes left indelible marks on my young psyche. I didn't want to be exactly like him when I grew up, but his example showed me that other ways of being were possible, that you could have an unconventional life and find happiness in simpler things. The kindness and care of his two daughters were all that stood between him and homelessness at times in recent years. His path was not always easy, and it was sometimes hard on those around him. Yet he had friends everywhere who would do anything for him. He was a caring soul and touched a chord in most people he met. It was hard not to love Noel. I will miss him. And I feel so lucky that I grew up with him in my life. I wouldn't be the person I am today without Noel. Thank you, my dear uncle. Rest in peace. And may your example live on in all of us who were touched by you and loved you.
Brady Robinson