Goodbye, Glenn

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Every year the Wadena News runs an extra section for the last issue before Christmas, and in 2013 I had just started working there. Off I went to Saskatoon and visited Glenn and Janet, who both grew up in this area and are family friends, so we could include a story about Fury Guitars. “Smalltown boy does good!” Glenn joked, guessing that back home, people who “knew him when” would probably be surprised. He’d been a wild and crazy young man, and who would ever have thought, Janet said, that he would accomplish so much. She was very proud of him and what he’d done, and what they’d built together.

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It was a lovely visit, as it always is. Janet and my aunt Reta have been the best of friends since they were girls, so when Reta comes up from the States, she spends a couple days with Janet. I usually drop her off there or pick her up (sometimes both), but whichever it is, Janet welcomes me with a big warm hug and Glenn is always willing to show off the shop. I don’t often stay long, but the ladies sit up late into the night playing cards, while Glenn, I think, might be out in the shop behind the house, working on his guitars. A night owl all the way.

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Glenn passed away on Saturday. The images on this page were taken from the December 2013 issue of the Wadena News.

Here’s the current story in the Leader Post:


12 thoughts on “Goodbye, Glenn

  1. He never got tired of talking about his guitars and everything that went into making them, and was so generous with his time when you did stop in and show an interest. One of a kind, for sure, and lucky to have a passion like that and the opportunities (self made) to live them out.


  2. Great story Kathy, and the sequal. While reading I thought of the old days, when Prairie people could and had to often, do *anything*. Almost everyone had something they excelled at, and if they didn’t they worked at it until they did unlike today where we buy everything. (Even if it’s Goodwill it’s still buying.)

    I have relatives like this, had neighbours like this. Perhaps they didn’t parlay their skill into a business, in in Prairie towns and north too, everyone knew who where to go to get X built, or repaired. You just knocked on the door and stood their with the broken, maimed and treasured. Soon, good as, or new, just for you and hey, no money accepted.


  3. Sorry for your loss, and the world’s loss as well. I had heard of Fury Guitars via musical friends, they were held in very high regard. This is a lovely tribute to a great fellow.


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