Dean O. Skabelund

A fine son of Emanuel and Evelyn, Dean Skabelund, passed quietly from this world on the bright spring day of April 22, 2012.
Born the 2nd day of August in 1931, he grew up in Logan, witness to the hardest days and finest hours of our nation, engaged in a boyhood filled with revelries no longer known; flying kites made of newspaper and lilac boughs in shoe soles patched with cardboard, and racing sleds on snowy days from the Whittier school all the way to Main Street. He bought war bonds with his shoeshine dimes. Spent summers in the old Malibu Lodge. Hunted in the west fields. He saw and lived the days when our valley had its best harvest.
He would attend Utah State University, where he attained both a Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in English. At the University of New Mexico he pursued a PhD in Literature, and in military service he earned the rank of staff sergeant of the U.S. Army.
For 33 years Dean taught English and world literature, with particular reverence for 16th century England, and eastern religion and philosophy. He possessed a profound connection with Camus, and heard the deepest resonances in Homer. And he longed to dream in the green Shade of Marvell’s garden.
A professor utterly dedicated to his students, humble in his wisdom, an oldest of souls and gentle samaritan, he was ever eager and able to see the gleam of humor in the world and shenanigans of its inhabitants, and was readily brought to chuckle at his own follies.
Weather permitting –or not –he could be found on any of the local golf courses, stalking the wily golf ball, or plying the trails, and hollows, and secret, silent, places of Utah’s canyons and mountains. And in proud Danish tradition, never failed to find the profound satisfaction in a good glass of beer.
To the end he found wonder, marvel, and delight in the natural world. He bore an ever somber yet joyous reverence before the spectacle of solstice, of twilight, spring rain and autumn leaves, the sublime grace of animals, the sound of language, voice of rivers, choirs of crickets, and the giggles, beauty, and perfection, of children. And always and ever did he long to arrive upon the shores of that infinitely mysterious, yet familiar place from which emerges the Sound within bagpipes.
As his Sojourn on this good earth ends, and he embarks into the rosy fingered dawn of a new Odyssey, Dean Olof Skabelund leaves behind his wife of 56 years, Nancy, his intrepid brother, Donald, his own marvelous daughter Nicole, and her four luminous daughters, his son, Erik, and not least, his trusty sidekicks Pushkin and Mootzee, as fine of cat and dog as ever were.
A favored passage of his comes from Chuang Tzu: “I dreamed I was a butterfly, flittering around the sky. Then I awoke. And now I wonder, am I a man who dreamt of being a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming that I am a man?”
In the clear sky will be the delighted blue of your eyes watching over us. The soft sound of aspen leaves in wind will be the world’s applause for your compassion, kind decency, selfless support, and your fine works. And in every moment of our waking, or dreaming, you will be loved and missed.
Au revior, Dean, dors bien, fais de beaux rêves– until we find each other again, dedicated husband, brother, uncle, grandfather, teacher, sergeant, colleague, mentor, professor, friend.
So long, dad.

Dean’s family wish to express immense and humble gratitude to the staff of Legacy House, Access Hospice, and all who gave care to Dean in his final months, days and hours. In lieu of tokens of condolence, anyone wishing to express their well-wishes could do so by please making a donation to the Alzheimers Association, in hope that no one else ever suffer this devestating affliction; www.alz.org . And be sure to raise a reverent glass to the solstice, twilignt, the pipes, and thoughts, dreams, and memories, of Green. Condolences and thoughts may be expressed to the family online at www.allenmortuaries.net .