Paul Heffron Remembrance
Paul Heffron died this past September at the age of 88. Paul, a professional musician provide musical entertainment to solstice gathers, and picnics over the years. Paul started as an ordained minister, although he left the ministry and lived as a secular humanist, he had religious credentials in order to preform secular marriages and did so for many of us in the secular community.
This is from Paul’s Obituary: March 3, 1937 – September 27, 2025 age 88 of Shoreview, MN. Born in Yankton, SD. St. Paul Central High School class of 1955, former camp counselor at Camp St. Croix, Yankton College class of 1959, Andover Newton Theological Seminary 1963, United Church of Christ Assistant Minister Greenfield MA 1963-64 and Minister Wauseon OH 1965-67. U of Minnesota PHD American Studies 1974. Professional Musician and lifetime member of the Twin Cities Musician Union 1975-2015. Involved in the founding of the HumanistsMN (chapter granted on December 27, 2000). Preceded in death by his parents, Harvey and Alfhild (Julseth) Heffron and brother Dale Heffron. Survived by his loving wife Margaret “Peg” of 66 years, Sister Terry Bricher, Sons Timothy (Jean) and Andrew (Susan) Heffron, Grandchildren Andrea Shipley, Cameron Heffron, Kyle Heffron, Bridget Heffron, Great Grandchildren Evelyn Shipley
A Celebration of Life will be held on November 8th at SummerHouse of Shoreview senior living community 4655 Victoria St N, Shoreview, MN 55126. Social gathering 10:30 am, Celebration of Life 11:00 am. Lunch to follow the service. Please send memorial donations to: HumanistsMN, P.O. Box 582997, Minneapolis, MN 55458-2997 or Y Camp St. Croix, 532 Co Rd F, Hudson, WI 54106.
Paul wrote this poem:
There Will Come a Time
There will come a time when I’ll no longer see the trees.
There will come a time when I’ll no longer feel the breeze.
Or hear the birds, or smell the flowers.
There will come a time when I’ll no longer walk or talk.
There will come a time when I’ll no longer think or drink.
Or blink or wink. Or enjoy my showers.
There will come a time when I can no longer say Good Night, Sweetheart.
There will come a time when I can no longer say Bye, Love before I depart.
Or miss or kiss. Or treasure my hours.
Only what I did will remain, some mostly constructive, some almost destructive.
And much in between, some just routine.
There might come a time when I will say, Enough,
Staying alive is too tough.
A time when I’ll say I was lucky to win the birth lottery,
That I had a good life, like useful and creative pottery.
That others guided and helped me and some loved me.
How lucky can one person be?
Even so, I hate that I will cease to be.
Will I ever be okay with mortality? Not me!
