When it came to her views on war and famine overseas or to the way she greeted neighbors at her Hopkins apartment complex every day, Irene Kunze had one simple philosophy.

"She would say 'I just don't understand why people can't be nice to each other,'" Kunze's daughter, Rena St. Cyr, said Friday. "It's such an old fashioned concept, just 'being nice,' but she had difficulty understanding why people can't be nicer."

St. Cyr, 61, of Golden Valley wants people to know that long before Kunze was stabbed to death in her Hopkins apartment that her nine decades were well-lived. In an interview Friday, she declined to discuss any aspects of the case, citing the continuing investigation.

Her mother was a mainstay in Hopkins. Before her husband, Roger, died in 1981, she loved dancing with him to Fred-and-Ginger-type tunes. And in April, more than 100 people gathered at the Elks Lodge to celebrate her 90th birthday. They will again gather there Monday to reminisce after her funeral, scheduled for 2 p.m. at Mizpah United Church of Christ in Hopkins.

They'll remember, her daughter said, a woman who never wore bluejeans a day in her life -- farm wear, she called it -- who gathered her family for Sunday dinners at her apartment and who loved to laugh but was an admitted horrible joke-teller. They'll remember a woman who left everyone she knew better off.

"I think my mother's always had a wonderful group of friends around her because she is a wonderful friend," St. Cyr said.

Kunze had lived at the apartment complex for about 15 years, after she decided to sell her house. She was happy there, a cautious but friendly neighbor who was quick to introduce herself to new residents.

St. Cyr said that she and her family now view every tragedy on the news differently, in how it devastates families. They were always close-knit, but they survive in one lesson her mother taught her whole life by quiet example.

"My mom is a very resilient, very strong person. She taught me and all of us that you bear it," she said. "She was the backbone of this family. You don't sit in the corner and say 'Woe is me.' Life has to be lived. You move on."

Abby Simons • 612-673-4921