Dino, as i promised before, now that you"re gone if the opera house comes looking for the sign i"ll take full responsibilty for it. I"ll miss you my friend, the guy that had answers to questions nobody had even come up with Yet!

Uncle Dean, you will be missed dearly.  My favorite memory is having you teach me how to drive and having me go anywhere just to get the practice in.  I remember going up to Mt. Rainier to grab some coffee then turn around and go home.  You were also a great support throughout my life and am blessed to have you as my uncle.  It brings joy to my heart to know that you are sitting next to Jesus right now and that one day we will see each other again!

Love, Nicole Koenig

It was my very good fortune to come to know Dean when we both worked with sculptor Dudley Carter in the early 1990's.  Dean was a one-of-a-kind man ... a big, strong, yet incredibly gentle man ... a warm, caring, sensitive, prayerful, thoughtful, devoted man .... and an amazing artist. Dean was majorly instrumental in Dudley being able to continue his monumental wood sculpting business even at the age of 100.  Dudley appreciated Dean, not only for his considerable  artistic abilities, but for his personal integrity - as did all who spent time with Dean in the glory days of Dudley Carter apprenticeships.

In the years after Dudley Carter's death, Dean worked with the Dudley Carter Foundation, striving to keep Dudley's legacy alive.  It was always a delight to have Dean stop by my house when his delivery route or some appointment brought him to the Eastside.  I loved to hear him tell me of artistic designs he was dreaming up or discuss with him the problems of the world, over an afternoon cuppa tea.  How I shall miss those visits!

But, like the Kendrick's, I have something wonderful to remember him by. Dean gave me a bird too ... a marvelous sort of tufted puffin. I treasure it, as I shall treasure my memories of Dean.

My best thoughts and prayers are with Gail and Jill and her family and all the Fredricksons.

As we recollect, it was in the late 1980's when we saw Dean's tiny little red car coming up the driveway with a huge thing strapped to the tiny roof.  Turned out to be a totem pole that Dean had carved along with his almost inseparable friend, Steve Emge.  This was about the time that Dean had been working with Dudley Carter.  The totem pole is truly a wonderful work of art and had been residing at Steve's log cabin out in Duvall.  Steve had recently moved to Florida and Dean believed that it really should be residing with some friends.  So we built a base and that totem pole guarded our place for twenty-five years.  When we let Dean know that we were selling our place, he came out to pick it up and move it to a new home where it would still be residing with friends or family.

Every time we talk about the day that pole came up the driveway, we can't help but smile and chuckle a little bit.  This thing was at least ten feet tall and probably even a little taller.  Dean had single handedly liberated this pole from unappreciative people, got it on top of this tiny little car and driven it the fifteen or so miles to our home on Bear Creek in Redmond.  He was proud in his very understated manner of this rescue.

We did a lot of motorcycle riding with Dean.  One trip up to Mt. Rainier we stopped by a stream for a little rest stop and one of the bikes failed to start.  Guess there was an charging problem.  Nobody had any jumper cables.  
Dean rooted around in the "trunk" of his Gold Wing and came out with the cable to an electric frying pan, which he fashioned into jumper cables.  Years later we would all still get a laugh out of this.  What in the world was Dean doing with just the cord to an electric frying pan in his Gold Wing?

There is no way that we have ever thought of Dean when that thought did not bring a smile to our faces.  We suppose that is a reflection of the fact that he almost always seemed to be smiling and made anyone feel comfortable and happy in his presence.  

The world has lost one of the truly good people with a generous and kind soul.  That is sad.  But we are happy to have had the blessing of knowing and counting him as a friend.  

Our thoughts are with Gail, Jill and Dean's entire family.

Kirk & Kris Doyle
s/v Linger Longer from La Paz, Baja Peninsula, Mexico

I have such wonderful memories of Dean...Always so happy, ...Kind and loving...He will always be in my heart       Lois Thompson

I once received a letter from Dean with an ink sketch at the top. When closing he said, "By the way, the sketch above is a picture of Jonah when the whale spit him up on the beach, much like a WW2 beach landing. When he was found guess what they discovered? His Timex was still ticking! Often I would get letters of a more conventional nature when he would share insights to the Bible that he had discovered.

When he was the Pastor in Rolla, ND we would usually stop over for a night. We had to rescue him from his house keeping skill (or lack thereof). Once, searching for dishes, we found a large box of dirty dishes on the lower shelves of his cupboard. Another time he had so many dirty dishes he put them in his bathtub to soak. That was our Dean!

Dean was a very tender, caring and compassionate man. Witness his care for his little sisters and his work with Hospice. 

Just a few weeks ago we were in Seattle for our oldest son's 50th birthday. Somehow Dean misunderstood the "evite" he got and was not there. We arranged to meet he and Gail for lunch and had a really nice time. However, I noticed that Dean was just not himself. I think he was not feeling good. There were none of the characteristic offbeat, humorous remarks.

I think his passing is just beginning to become real with me. I miss you, Dean and I am also a little bit put out with you. YOU BEAT ME TO HEAVEN! I love you!

"The Old Man"

May your hearts soon be filled with wonderful memories of joyful times together as you celebrate a life well lived.

December 15, 2014
Dean had a gift of putting people at ease and bringing a smile to their face.  His goofy humor, his quiet manner and unpretentious self was appreciated by all who knew him.  
This big man with a gentle soul and generous spirit had huge Norwegian hands made strong by hard work while growing up on a farm in North Dakota.  His powerful arms and hands could wrestle machinery, handle tools with finesse and persuade ornery equipment to work for him.  Those same hands were tender enough to change diapers, reverently hold little children, embrace loved ones with calm reassurance, bring warmth and a comfort to those in crisis as well as be available to help any time he was called.   
Dean was very creative.  A blob of clay would be worked by his powerful fingers poking and pushing the solid material until a figure would emerge and be the start of a statue.  His life-sized bronze statue, “Patrick”, is installed at the Redmond Baseball fields as a memorial to a young boy who loved baseball.  His bronze salmon swim forever on the grounds of the Redmond Library.  He was so happy when he was making something meaningful. 
Dean would pick up pen and paper to make amazing, intricate sketches with an eye for detail and balance.   A 1981 pencil drawing he made of our cabin is a treasure and I am sure others have framed his work as well.   He also drew a ‘quick sketch' that we used for labels of our home made wine.  The labels were beautiful, much better than the wine.
When working with wood he could feel the image inside the piece.  It almost spoke to him and it made him happy.   He studied under Dudley Carver, noted northwest wood carver, and learned the art of totem poles.  He would look at a log, stump, or piece of wood and see the grain, the color, the shape, the possible creation he could make from it.  A  block of yellow cedar became children in “Ring Around the Rosy”, a wood installation outside the YWCA Women's Shelter in Redmond.   Working with chisels his big hands often bore the scars of cuts and gashes.  That was part of his work.
Sitting at his computer his large fingers tapped out his life growing up in North Dakota and then his journey to the Seattle area.  When I read this self published book  I laughed out loud at some of the scenes he described and was also awed by his perceptions and positive outlook on Life.
Dean, we love you sooooooo much and miss you.  We know your arms and hands are embracing us all.  
Judith Wilson
Sister-in-law

We had the great pleasure of meeting and getting to know Dean, through our Mom (Skippy) 
 Gail and Deans many visits to Mom's house at our ranch here in the Okanogan Valley were always very much enjoyed. It was always fun to have an intellectual and sometimes spirited conversation on life. 
He once carved a HUGE wooden statue of a Quail, (we named him “Oscar”) and gave it to Mom, Oscar was perched on top of the hill at Moms house overlooking the ranch and lake, he did his job as the guardian of the several thousand native quail. Even the coyotes gave Oscar a wide berth.  I always laughed and said if Dean ever gave you the bird it was a good thing!

The twinkle in his eye, the light heartfelt chuckle that he could present to a conversation, will never be forgotten here. We will always appreciate the enduring friendship the Dean and Gail have had over the years with our family.  Gail, know that our prayers and hearts are with you and your family, and hope you can find time to get back over here to God's country and spend some time with us.
God Bless You
Jerry & Di Kendrick
Riverside, WA

Thoughts about my brother 
He was a very quiet and serious kid. 
When mom needed a dependable babysitter for the girls she could always rely on him. He would rock them and speak quietly. She was always worried the other boys would teach  them how to smoke cigarettes.
The baby buggy wheels and axles kept showing up on his soap box derby cars. His favorite color was black with silver trim.
Mom said he loved pudding.
He grafted many varieties of apples on our apple tree.
When in college I rode with him to Minneapolis in his 1940 Ford. It had no brakes and he would gear it down to stop. If in a bind he would cram it in reverse. We never did hit a thing!
The parsonage in Rolla was a true bachelor pad. Dean used his oven to store dirty dishes. So if you needed a fork or glass you had to wash your own. On Sunday he only ironed the part of his shirt that showed outside his sports jacket.
He referred to Jill as his "Jilly Bean"
He silk screened a pair of underpants for my wife that had the Foss  tug logo "Always Ready"
His sticker on the back of his truck always made us laugh and was a testament to his quirky sense of humor. Instead of "Give 'em a brake" his said "Give em a rake".
Rest in peace, brother

I was child number 6 in the line of 7 Fredrickson children.  I don't remember it but Dean tells me that he took care of me a lot of the time when I was little.  He was a quiet, kind and godly young man.  I remember the days when I could hear him upstairs in the "boys room" praying and weeping.  He had a fun sense of humor like our dad, too.  He loved to make plaster casts of things but mother really worried when he told her he made a cast of his head using a straw to breathe through.

Dean Everett Fredrickson was born April 17, 1943 on cold, crisp, North Dakota morn‘, to Helen and Chester Fredrickson.  He was the second of seven children. 

Dean spent his early years in the rich fertile farm fields of North Dakota.  Dean often offered his services to the local farmers and did odd jobs as the needs arose.  Dean's father struggled to run a small business selling farm equipment, some of Deans most treasured memories were the times his father would gather up the children and take them into the “big” city. While there, his father conducted business and the children feasted their eyes on the trinkets and candies of the city.  His childhood however was cut short by the sudden death of his father when Dean was in his early teens.  Dean then took it upon himself to help look after his younger siblings.  Dean forever held his siblings dear to his heart and often spoke of them with love and longing.

Dean attended Hub City Bible Institute and North West Bible College, however Dean's love and knowledge of God was not taught to him by books, but his love of God came about from his seeking God with his whole heart, mind and soul.

Dean went on to  marry his love, Janine, and between the two of them, they created the love of his life, his daughter Jill.  Jill was the apple of her father's eye.  He marveled at her tiny features and was awed by the strength and courage she had as a young child enduring and overcoming spina bifida.  Deans so loved his daughter Jill and as was terribly proud of her and her accomplishments.  Dean cared deeply for her husband James, and for his grandsons Brady and Andrew, who knew him as “Papa”.

Dean was always a bit different from most.  Perhaps it was because he was from North Dakota, we all know they grow them a little different there.

Dean shunned material things, and for a time he lived in a run down hut with no running water or electricity.  To most this would seem to be most undesirable, but for Dean, this environment allowed Dean the space and time he needed to be reflective, and to restore his soul. 

Dean married another love of his life Gail Fredrickson.  It was a perfect pairing of two artistic souls.  Two souls that experienced life deeply, only the way artists can.  Not to say that at times they always saw eye to eye, for Dean, where there is a will, there is a “Dean's” way, and that was always a bit interesting to deal with!  The love they shared however, was undeniable.  He treasured her, and she him.  He also took under his wing her two sons Jason and Jon.  He loved and cared for those two as his own.  He would offer them his advise and his support , and as with any father figure's advise, it was not always appreciated, but it was always known that it came from his heart.

Dean was a very spiritual and prayerful man.  He was a minister for some time, and also served as a respite care person with Hospice. Death was no stranger to Dean. Through the years  Dean was often by the side of the dying, quietly holding their hands, praying softly with them, and surrounding them with love and his gentle loving presence. Uncle Dean was one of a kind.  God just wanted Dean to spend Christmas with Him this year...and so it was and so it is...on December 5th 2014, Dean got the best Christmas present of his life!    
Dean, we love you ....thanks for being part of our life's journey...

In 1978 when I was 8 my parents separated. A couple years later they were divorced and that sucked.  My mother Gail dated a few guys. Some good. Some not so good. But there was this one guy named Dean Fredrickson who really, really liked her. He kind of stuck around. When I first met him he came to the door and I was struck by how large his arms were. No, he didn't strike me – the guy just had these big cannon arms. He was a thick strong guy. But he smiled at me and had kind eyes under his glasses. He really had a thing for my mom. And she liked him, too. 

So they dated a few years and then they went their separate ways in 1983. I had just moved from my Mom's  to my Father's and when I got the call that Dean and my Mom had just split up it hit me a lot like the divorce had in 1979. I was saddened because I knew just how much he loved my Mom. For the next 7 years  I worried about my Mom because I knew she wasn't going to find another Dean Fredrickson.

Then in 1990 they reconnected. I stopped worrying after that. They got married in 1993. I know Dean loved me but I know it wasn't always easy for him being my Step-Father. He had to put up with some stuff that's for sure.  We had our differences but there is no other man I would want for my Mother. With my Dad, my Mom and him just didn't work out. But with Dean and my Mom, it did. 

I am very glad that this past year I had a very positive relationship with Dean. I last spoke with him a few days ago and we had a great talk and the last thing we said to each other was “I love you.”

Dean passed away today December 5th, 2014. 

Dean had the strangest sense of humor I have ever known. I shake my head wondering how he came up with some of the things he would say. His mind was a bizarre place. I'll miss him dearly.

My heart breaks for my Mother Gail, my brother Jon, my Step-Sister Jill and all of the family. 

I love you Dean Fredrickson. Thank you for taking care of my Mother.

Jason "Jay" Tando

OBITUARY

Dean Everett Fredrickson

17 April, 1943 – 5 December, 2014

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