Allen Axelson, Jr (Albert) 1960-2025
By: Danny Mishek
A family and company mourn a great person who lost his battle with cancer. This hits a little closer to home for me as this is the first active employee that VistaTek has lost in our 29-year history. For 13 years, Allen was a set up tech for injection molding. This 64-year-old man went by Al or Allen, but he allowed me to call him Albert.
This eulogy is not only for Allen, but for all the blue collared, unsung heroes of manufacturing. He wouldn’t win the local spelling bee, nor pass the Windsor Palace etiquette class, but he would win your heart as a man who truly cared.
He cut his teeth on injection molding through exposure and experience. There was no schooling for him, only on-the-job training. His hands and shirts were always dirty. Each of his overworn shirts displayed a chest pocket to hold his cigarettes and phone. His voice was gruff and gritty, and he never started a sentence without shouting a cuss word to get your attention. Fortunately, our employees had selective hearing around his colorful language, and HR had a folder documenting the use of his few favorite words. He is the epitome of what people don’t see behind the scenes of manufacturing. He had a 40-minute commute down the St. Croix Valley. He would start early and would rarely have a morning commute in daylight. He would switch the lights on and start equipment every Monday morning. The only days he would miss were Mondays, when the Minnesota Vikings played Sunday night. His love for Bud Light, raffle boards, and pull tabs would lure him away from his professional duties. We could forecast this and plan accordingly as we knew his vices were stronger than his intentions.
This is what rings true with the old-fashioned manufacturing workforce. They show up with a chip on their shoulder. They have come right from high school, a small town, or took a job out of logistics. It was close to home, they had an opening, or their parents worked there. There was no negotiation for pay, vacation, or benefits. They never got a day off because it was a “bankers’ holiday”. They just started on the shift that had an opening and went to work.
He lived alone with his cat, Mocha. The cat was his grandson’s but due to his grandson’s allergies, Mocha needed to live with Allen. Al was divorced and the self-pronounced Mayor of Taylors Falls as he knew everything happening in the community. His loyalty was true, his bark had no bite, and his teddy bear smile would befriend anyone who tried their best.
His best clothes were given to him by the company. When I asked why he wasn’t wearing them he told me they were too nice. I told him that he was representing the company and that I’d like him to wear the logoed apparel. After that conversation, there was rarely a time he didn’t wear a VistaTek or SelfEco shirt. He was awarded a 10-year anniversary watch for his time with the company and he complained that it was too nice, and he would never wear it. Surely, he was wrong, and he wore it daily with pride.
Allen brought fearlessness to the company. He understood that jobs needed to get out. He did not want to disappoint ownership nor the end customers. It may not have been pretty, but he would use redneck engineering to fix a machine that was struggling or a mold that was beyond end of life. He knew how to be one with the machine and how to manipulate the plastic to flow just well enough to complete the order.
As today’s standards have changed to scientific molding and mold flow analyses, the generational experience of the past is a dying art. Allen, and his people would find ways to make production-grade products from poor designs, underbuilt molds, and cheap budgets. They carried the burden of succeeding when unwise shortcuts were made.
Allen was so proud of the customers we served and of our in-house SelfEco product line. He would take flowers to his mother’s gravesite in our plant-based containers. He would talk to the local bars about using our compostable products. He was proud and always humble. He cared for his co-workers and always embraced the new, younger employees. He was a natural mentor that played a father-figure role.
He never truly planned for retirement and never overspent on luxury. He would drive used cars until they could no longer be repaired or until he totaled one by hitting a deer on his way to work, which was an event that happened 3 to 4 times during his tenure at VistaTek. Most of his meals were fast food or purchased from the local Kwik Trip. This lifestyle and these dietary habits have been a constant in American manufacturing. Right or wrong, this has been how we have competed at the world level.
As technology, software, and education have evolved, people have become even more important. The dedication, passion and understanding of their roles has been undervalued. The action of being present, unable to work remotely, and using their experience becomes lost among the sexiness of every other non-manufacturing profession. Manufacturers need to cover for others on their breaks, confirm that paperwork and procedures are followed, and verify that tolerances are maintained. Technology only gets you so far, but real people and character get you to the finish line.
Allen started smoking at age 15, stealing cigarettes from his parents. At his peak, he smoked two packs a day. He competed in demolition derbies and liked deer hunting. He never flew on a plane and made his furthest drive from Wisconsin to Montana. He loved his mother and father and was hopeful his grandmother would greet him in heaven with fresh banana bread, which was his favorite. He would drink 4 to 6 diet Cokes a day and loved his Hostess snacks. Again, he was not the poster child for the CDC, FDA, or the American Heart Association.
I had the privilege of attending most of Allen’s doctor’s appointments, virtual visits, and was present with his family for some of the saddest news delivered. The time with him in the car, in waiting rooms, and in hospital rooms were times I was blessed to experience. I visited him in the hospice every 1 to 3 days. His last 18 months were a battle worth fighting.
I learned more about Allen and his past. I helped him make his closing arguments when he arrived at the pearly gates. I realized that just to be present with him as a friend and co-worker was an equally significant part of my journey. Allen had a benefit at his favorite watering hole, The Goat Saloon, in Taylors Falls. A great number of friends and family were in attendance. T-shirts were sold that said, “You can’t live with him, and you don’t want to live without him.”
Watching cancer slowly consume a man of 230 pounds to under 160 pounds is a reminder that we need to do our best and be our best when we are here. It is a reminder that we don’t die every day but that we need to live every day. We only die once. Be present, be kind, be awesome.
This story or eulogy is not for a CEO, president, patent holder, chairman of the board, or an industry leader. This story is for the heart and soul of every person who has shown up to work through a snowstorm, through an illness, through a hungover morning. This note of appreciation and gratitude is for Allen Axelson, Jr and for every man and woman in manufacturing that has made the United States thrive. These real unsung heroes make our lives better.
#RIPAlbert