Based on pictures I’ve seen, Voss seems to have FAMILY embroidered on every piece of apparel he owns.

It felt like Justin had waited years to be able to tell these stories. But I know for a fact he’s told them before. He’s just that enthusiastic about talking about all this. He kept going.

“I gotta’ tell you about one thing. I think it was in my second year up there. Tom told us about a family evicted from their home and needed to get out immediately. Like really quick. This was at 9:00 pm. We went up there—some football players and coaches, no questions asked.  They didn’t have time to properly pack everything, so we helped gather everything together, pack it, or just load it onto the truck.

What a tough thing it must have been for a family to ask for help in that situation. They were in a tough spot, getting forced out of where they lived. Meanwhile, Tom tried to make this as easy as possible for them. He was so compassionate and reassuring. He said something like, ‘It’s OK, it’s OK. We’re going to help you out. We’re all part of this community. We’re gonna get this done for you. It will be OK.’

That family was so appreciative and so thankful.

It all comes back to that word, family. When you say it so often, it better have some meaning. He backs it up every time.  It’s one thing to help those families, but he’s also teaching those kids that If you want a strong community, you have to give back—and they do it. He’s impacting lives beyond the football field. I’m guessing they have a lot of people who might have no relation to any of the players but go to games just because of that connection between that team and the community.”

Voss paused for a moment to decide which story to tell me next.  

While he was doing that, I started connecting some dots. When Tom Nelson was four years old, his family lived in a place known as Isabella, Minnesota, with a population of 154, give or take a few.  You don’t know where that is?  Access Google Maps.  Search for “Nowhere.” Smack-dab in the middle of that, you’ll find Isabella. 

The Nelsons—mom, dad, and five kids, had planned a trip for the final week in March of 1975. When you’re four years old and travel to another state, it’s a big adventure–as consequential as Neil Armstrong flying to the moon. Days before their departure, a blizzard slammed the north shore of Lake Superior. Weather.gov describes it like this.  

“A foot of snow and winds unofficially recorded in excess of 100 mph paralyzed the city of Duluth. Waves up to 20 feet pounded the Lake Superior shore, flooding basements and blowing out store windows. Waves and ice buckled metal and glass safety wall at a lakefront motel, forcing the evacuation of 10 rooms as knee-deep water flooded into hallways. Waves destroyed a 40-foot wall in Two Harbors, flooding municipal water pumping stations. Large chunks of beach along Lake Superior’s shore were washed away. Property damage reached up to $5 million.”

The Nelsons wouldn’t let a little blizzard prevent them from driving 150 miles south to temperate Webster, Wisconsin. There, they’d find jelly beans, pastel-colored eggs, marshmallow bunnies, and—most notably, grandma and grandpa.

Kids don’t forget stuff like that. 

It was time to say goodbye then drive northward, to look out the window while crossing the “high bridge” above Saint Louis Bay, crossing the state line back into Minnesota, before turning the car onto Highway 61, then the long but scenic drive along the north shore of Lake Superior.  The kids talked about building snowmen and snow forts back in Isabella.  When they returned home, much of the snow was already gone. Melted.  Melted not by the warmth of spring weather.  It wasn’t time for that yet.  That snow was melted by the heat of the fire which had burned their house to the ground.

Their home was gone. They’d lost everything.

Tom remembers picking through the rubble, trying to find anything that survived, those things he could take to whatever and wherever was next.  

Kids can’t possibly forget stuff like that.

The proud Nelson family desperately needed help. Their five children would be dispersed among nearby families with extra beds, blankets, cereal, and soup bowls to provide comfort. Months would pass before the family would be reunited under the same roof.

Voss’s description of Nelson’s empathy and compassion with that evicted family finally lit 30-watt light bulb powering my brain.  There are times in life when you’ve had to live it to know it.  Nelson did, and Nelson does. He knows that feeling of desperation, of having to pick up the broken pieces of a life, then go start something new.  He also remembers the kindness of friends and neighbors who didn’t have to help them but took extraordinary measures to do just that.  

Young kids who grow to become football coaches don’t forget about stuff like that.

It’s no coincidence that a football team knocked on the door of that desperate family, ready to help them pick up and pack up the pieces of their life. No questions asked. No judgements made.  Just there to help.  It’s the neighborly thing to do. Compassion based on a shared experience. 

The pieces of the Nelson puzzle now fit together. 

Perfectly.

Justin Voss then recaptured my attention. 

“Let me tell you one more story.  We’d moved down to North Branch, and I was an assistant coach.”

Justin had been talking a mile a minute up until now.  He paused, then cleared his throat.

“Our first child, Lincoln, passed away at birth. We knew it would happen—the doctors warned us in advance. That was just so very hard for us. Of course, I talked to Tom a few times during that process.  This was at the end of July. Then, a month later, my niece was killed. The car she was riding in was hit by a semi. So we just had this extreme heartache in our family.”

I’d been gone from Two Harbors for four or five years, so I didn’t know many current players or their families.  That didn’t matter to Tom.  He was already planning to honor Lincoln at a forthcoming game.

As a result of the accident, my cousin and her husband were still in the hospital in Iowa, and we needed to be with them.  So, we couldn’t be at the game in Two Harbors, but they moved forward with the event anyway. He didn’t have to do that. He’d already expressed his condolences to us. He could have just talked to his players then left it at that. But he went a step further, made it a community thing to help someone who was once part of Two Harbors football.

Talk about heartwarming—this is a community that doesn’t even know me anymore, but they passed the bucket around and raised hundreds of dollars, which we donated to the “Lay Me Down To Sleep” organization to support other families who endure losing a child like this.

“Before the game, each football player wrote Lincoln’s initials on white athletic tape, then wrapped that tape around their wrists.  Lincoln–our son Lincoln–was with them that night on that field in Two Harbors. 

The man cares about people.”

Justin had one more story to tell. During one of their earliest conversations—if not the first conversation, Nelson told Voss he could temporarily stay with his family while he got settled.  That was a bit puzzling to me until I connected those dots back to Isabella. 

“I never moved in with them, but I often stayed up there. After games on Friday night in Two Harbors, or if our bus returned late from a road game, I’d stay overnight with them instead of driving back to Duluth. I’d wake up on Saturday, and their five kids always want to play. It was so much fun. In a way, I was still a kid too. I was still growing up.  His kids are teenagers now. It won’t be long before Tom and Angie are empty-nesters.

Last summer, Erin and I took our six-year-old daughter and three-year-old son up there and spent several days with the Nelson family at the lake.  I used to play with his kids.  Now, his kids were playing with mine. 

We sat back and watched. Full-circle stuff right there in front of us.”

I mistakenly thought I had all the puzzle pieces but Voss had a few stashed in his pocket. They’re together now. All in the right place. No loose ends. It’s nice to look at a puzzle after it all comes together. This  puzzle was initially a challenge to assemble. Now that it’s done, I’ve caught myself repeatedly out the window at Starbucks, taking a deep breath while thinking, “I get it now. I finally understand.”