Randall "Randy" Cray

40 years, 10 months and 33 days.

That's how much time I got to spend with Randall Win Cray.

And if you ever sat next to Randy and me at the bar, you know that he could rattle off the years, months, days, hours (and minutes, if pressed) that we had been married since 5/5/85. Randy was a bit of a numbers guy. "I'm kind of good with numbers you know." Life with Randy was never dull. He lived and loved in big way. He was a "snappy dresser", easily recognized in his overall bibs and baseball cap.

Randall Win Cray was born on June 1, 1957, in Riceville, Iowa. And in case you didn't know, "all the great people are born on the first" (his granddaughter Elliott being his favorite example). His savant tendencies lead us to believe that his exit on 3/3/26 at 2:22 pm was the destiny he chose 68 years 8 months and 3 days ago. (I had to figure that out without him, and it's probably incorrect.) He passed from an abdominal aortic aneurysm that had probably been lurking in his body for some time. He was a proud 5-gallon blood donor, that he had begun promptly the day after 9/11. His legacy of covert kindness will be continued with the help of LifeSource; he will change the lives of many with his selfless gift of tissues, organs, and eyes (he'd be as surprised as us all!).

He lived an idyllic midwestern childhood in Chester, Iowa. His fondest memories were of annual summer camping trips with the Weber family. Six boys, all around the same naughty ages and two little sisters. "We'd pull into a campground and take over!" The stories were epic and a bit lawless.

He started his adult life as a plumber and electrician. He could still tell you which houses he plumbed and who stiffed him on an after-hours pump pull. "That f-er still owes me $1200 bucks".

He joined his Dad and brother at Cray Insurance in 1982. He took calls from his customers at any hour of the day or night. If you were in an accident, his first concern was for you. "A car is just a hunk of metal. As long as you're ok, I'll handle the rest." And he did.

I'm making him sound like a saint. He wouldn't like that. He would do something kind for someone and say, "don't tell people, they'll think I'm nice". The people who really knew him, knew that he had a giant heart. The ones who only sort of knew him, thought he was a real a**hole. "I work at it!"

After 33 and a half years at Cray Insurance, he retired. He was not good at being retired. One of the few things he did not excel at. He started hauling Featherlite trailers all over the country, earning the name "Big Rig Randy". He loved driving, seeing the

country and "not having to kiss anyone's ass". He had many tales of treacherous trips in storms, of breakdowns or near accidents. All the time coming out completely unscathed. "I'm either stupid or lucky!"

He would call me a zillion times a day while he was on the road. Telling of the people he'd met along the way. He'd buy supper for an old guy at the bar who looked lonely and end up talking to him all evening. Or see a young family out to eat and buy their lunch. He always had dog treats in his coat pockets in case he came across any pups along the way.

He lived and breathed sports. He played fast pitch softball beginning in Chester at a very young age. This grew into a men's team of the same neighborhood boys. The Cray Insurance boys. I'm sure you have a can koozie. They made it to state and nationals twice. "I could lay down a bunt like no other, they never saw it coming".

He was a rabid Viking's fan. He and his cousin Bob would call each other during the games and speak in fluent obscenities about the opposing teams. If you happened to be a Green Bay Packers fan, he'd have a hard time holding back those obscenities. "F the Packers!" "Have I told you before how much I hate the f-in Packers?"

His golf swing could only be described as ugly, but somehow he made it work. But his competitive spirit compensated for this, making him a competitor on the many, many courses he played all over the US.

Most of all, he loved his kids. He had a hard time showing and communicating that love, but if you caught him on a special day, he would admit that everything he did was for his kids and how proud he was of them. The stories and all the Randy-isms that we all share are proof that they were loved beyond measure. The girls couldn't go anywhere without hearing "Are you a Cray?" or "Are you Randy Cray's daughter?" and used to scoff and think it was a curse. They both moved away to other states, only to return realizing it wasn't so bad to be Randy Cray's daughter. He and Matt ruined more than one recliner wrestling in the chair before taking it to the floor. "I quit as soon as I knew he could beat me". He instilled that competitive spirit into his kids. "If you're not first, you're last". Andrea pitched many a dent into the side of the corn crib (and his shins), until Sydney started catching. He and Matt spent countless hours at softball games and on the golf course. He especially loved going to Arizona to play golf. "I'm going to go kick Junior's ass on the course".

Then the grandkids arrived. Evelyn, Elliott and Win. His heart grew beyond what even he thought was possible. "Do you have anything to tell me?" "How's Bob?" Asking about potential boyfriends or girlfriends beginning as soon as preschool. Elliott recalls that he consistently kicked their a**es at Monopoly, never allowing them to win and bankrupting them with glee. Win will remember grandpa's fake snoring when his turn took too long playing cards. And no one will forget the golf cart in the pond story. If you don't know it, ask Evelyn or Elliott.

He was happiest at the cabin on Lake Roosevelt in Outing, MN. He grew up on this lake at his Grandparent's cabin that was built in 1949. He was the very proud and fastidiously accurate treasurer of the family cabin for 43 years. In 2023 we bought our own piece of heaven on the same lake. Going Up North was his happy place. He made friends at the Log Cabin Bar and The Pickled Loon. "We're one mile from the Loon, I could walk home if I needed to". He made sure to send Jane photos of winning pull tabs, usually $500 or $1000. "Yippee!!!" He had a horseshoe up his ass according to Bango. He became famous for his chocolate chip cookies that he baked to take up and distribute on each trip. In the summer his ultimate goal was to violently "toss" the kids from the tube on the pontoon (they will say he failed). He went so far as to buy a bigger motor for the pontoon, specifically for this purpose. The cabin is where he will be missed the most.

He was welcomed home by his dad, Dick Cray, his grandparents, Kathleen & Win Cray, and John & Stella Prestegard, his Father-in-Law, Jim Thomson, Brother-in-Law Mark Thomson, cousins Bob Ullom, Carmen Reed, LaDene Reed and a host of beloved dogs and ancestors awaiting his arrival.

Left to remember all of the Randy-isms are his wife Jan (this is my wife, 'Lucky'), children Andrea & fiancé Brandon Schmitt, Sydney, and Matt, grandchildren Evelyn, Elliott, and Win, Mother-in-Law, Carol Thomson, Sister-in-Law Kathy Thomson, Nolan & Ashley Thomson, Alyssa Thomson, Caleb Cray and dear family friends, Tony "Bango" Weber, Doug & Kendra Van Sloten and family, and Alex Shipman. He is also survived by his mother, siblings and extended family.

Randy hated funerals so much. His big, soft heart just couldn't take them. "Why would someone go to something so sad on purpose?" All to say, if he didn't attend your family member's service, please don't be offended. And if you don't want to attend his, no one would understand more than him. If you do attend, please come as you are. Wear Vikings, Twins, overalls or ball caps. Be yourself, because you know he wouldn't dress up for you!

As Randy was never a fan of flowers, "the whole world should be grass or concrete", please consider a donation to The Lime Springs Betterment Foundation/Endowment, a local animal rescue, or a charity of your choice in his memory.