Ronald F. Dupre

Our dad Ronald F. Dupre, 88, a loving husband and father of nine children passed away peacefully at home on October 8, 2023. Ronald was born in St. Paul, Minnesota on November 18, 1934 to Mae Lucy and Henry Joseph Dupre, he was the baby of eight children (Virginia, Milt, Lloyd, Gene, Gordie, Shirley and Norma).

Ronald married Diane E. Nelson on September 25, 1954 and enjoyed 68 years of marriage.

Ron was preceded in death by his darling wife, Diane; son, David and grandson, Anthony Rush. Ron is survived by his eight children: Barbara (Bill) Dunbar, Robert (Rita) Dupre, Gregory (Karen) Dupre, Deborah (Kevin) Perron, Thomas Dupre, Mary Anderson, Keith Dupre, and Richard (Matthew Woods) Dupre. Ron is also survived by his 11 grandchildren and 11 great-grandchildren.

Visitation will begin on Monday, October 23, 2023, at 9:30 a.m., followed by Mass of Christian Burial at 10:30 a.m., at The Church of the Epiphany, 1900 111th Avenue NW, Coon Rapids, Minnesota 55433. Interment Epiphany Cemetery. A lunch will follow the interment.

Dad was born during the great depression, and his hard-scrabble upbringing shaped him as a man, husband, and father. Dad told great stories like, “they were so poor that his dad would wait until two ducks crossed in the sky and kill two with one bullet.” Or the one about how his dad would bring hungry men home to dinner and his mom would have to kill a chicken to feed them. She reportedly told the kids to say they weren’t hungry so the guests could eat. When pie was brought out for dessert, his dad told the kids they did not get any pie because they did not eat their dinner. My dad made a point to never miss dessert.

My dad‘s dad Henry died young. Mae was left to raise her eight children with not much money but a lot of fortitude. Most of the kids had to leave school early and work to support the family. Dad‘s brothers all joined the military and fought in World War II. Dad was the baby and he was spared. The Dupre boys were all tall and good-looking. There mops of wavy dark hair and charming ways made them popular with the ladies. All his sisters were beautiful, but at the risk of offending, Virginia was the bombshell. All those Dupre’s found love, married, and made lots of babies. We were blessed with cousins upon cousins.

As the baby, dad was lucky, and he was able to go to school. He started his high school career at St. Thomas Academy but graduated from Mechanic Arts high school, second in his class. He met our mother Diane Nelson at age 15, after that all bets were off. It was love at first sight for dad. Mom, not so much, she had to be won and dad was up for the challenge.

They married when dad was 19 and mom was 18. Dad had a full scholarship to the University of Minnesota but Barb came along when dad was 20, school went by the wayside.

Dad had to make a living, and he was smart and charming, and found his way to Kinney shoes. Dad rose through the ranks, and eventually was the general manager of three stores in the Fargo area. That is where mom and dad bought their first house and started on their path to the American dream. It is pretty clear their love was a passionate one. They had nine children in 13 years.

As we all know, life can be a struggle. Dad struggled with alcoholism and things went a bit sideways. The career at Kinney Shoes ended, and dad had to reinvent himself.

They moved the family back to Saint Paul and dad became a construction laborer. He told harrowing stories of jobs he took because they paid hazard wages. He was once buried alive while digging a ditch. While strapped to a smokestack along the river, pouring cement course by course, the crane operator swung in too strong and busted dad‘s harness, and he was forced to leap onto the bucket and be lowered to the ground. When you are a construction laborer and you are a cement guy, most work stops in the winter, dad needed to keep making money. So dad took gigs at Pine Bend refinery where he would be lowered into fuel storage tanks and have to spray solvents to clean the tanks. Ugh.

Dad taught us all to be hard workers, to be careful with our money, and so many other practical skills.

The art of construction:

If you are hammering a nail low on a wall and you can’t get the right angle, turn your back to it, bend over, and you will find a better angle.

A bag of Portland, cement, and fine sand can make old concrete look new again.

If a nail punctures your foot, tie your boot tighter, a tetanus shot can wait until the end of the workday.

Everyone should take their union coffee break.

Most things can be fixed. If you can’t figure it out, call one of your brothers.

Rescued lumber is as good as new, you can build an entire garage out of stuff they are throwing away at a construction site.

Never carry a single 5-gallon pail of rubble. Always carry two and you’ll be in balance.

Perfect is good enough.

Clean up at the end of the day and admire your work.

Showing love:

When my dad showed up to help fix a roof, mend a muffler, or build a wall, he was saying I love you.

The gift of an ice cream pail full of veggies from his garden was a warm embrace.

If he offered you gas money, it was because he was so happy you came for a visit.

How to win friends:

If you are a good dancer, you will be very popular at weddings.

Use Brylcreem to style your hair.

The ladies love a man in flannel.

If you plant a garden, you can feed your family, and the whole neighborhood.

Collect funny songs and funny stories.

On the subject of funny songs:

IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED, YOU MAY NEED TO STOP READING NOW

Our dad used to burst into song and in those songs, there were some pseudo-lessons. But mostly they were just an expression of happiness. If dad was singing, it was a good day.

Relationships can be harrowing: “Boys stay away from the girls I say, give them lots of room because when you’re wed, they’ll beat you till you’re dead, with the bald-headed end of the broom.”

A slight change to a commercial jingle can be hilarious: “I wish I was old Oscar Meyer’s wiener, because everyone would be in love with me”.

You should never ask a girl on a date when all you have is 50 cents: “She said she wasn’t hungry, but this is what she ate: A dozen raw, a plate of slaw, a chicken, and a roast, some applesass and sparagrass, and soft-shelled crabs on toast. A big box stew and crackers too. Her appetite was immense. When she called for a pie, I thought I’d die for a had but 50 cents.”

Nobody is perfect:

Our dad worried a lot. He was quick to anger. He struggled with alcohol, but with amazing strength he managed to quit drinking in 1981 and never touched it again. I don’t think he ever thought he was good enough. We all struggle. There is plenty to learn from the bad times too. Worry was a kind of love. A love born out of the frustration that he could not protect us all the time. His anger often flared when there was a problem he desperately wanted to fix, but couldn’t.

Our mom suffered dementia; dad took loving care of her. The slow loss of mom was tragic, but it brought out a softer, more demonstratively loving side of dad. In the end, we are all grateful for the struggles that allowed us to feel the love, learn the lessons, and made us stronger.

One last lesson, if someone asks you to pull their finger, don’t.