Eulogy for my Dad, Ed Erickson

On behalf of my mother, Ayleen Erickson, and my brothers, Wayne and Dale, and our children and extended family I want to thank all of you for being here today to help us celebrate the life of my Dad, Ed Erickson.

My Dad lived a large, full and abundant life. Central to his life was his love for our Mom, Ayleen. On August 14 of this year, they would have celebrated their 65th wedding anniversary. They created an environment together where we learned to soar, limited only by the scope of our imagination. Dad set no limits for us. He encouraged us, as his own father had encouraged him. He was proud of his three boys and his seven grandchildren.

Dad knew adversity as a child and his belief in the value of hard work was a core element of his character. We all learned to work hard at an early age.

In the book he wrote about his family, “From Homesteading to Stump Ranching,” he wrote about work. He said,

“A five year old soon learned that work was as much a part of his life as play. At the age of seven you were assigned two cows to milk and I can also recall I was tied to a horse-drawn mover so as to keep from falling off the seat. Horses would walk the uncut hay and when they got to the corner, they would step around the corner and then continue. It was my duty to not touch the reins but just to raise the cutter or sickle bar when the horses made the turn. This I did by pulling back on a tall bar. I was proud and pleased to be able to help. Dad was in the next field and I’m sure keeping close watch on my progress.”

His father, Peter Erickson, was a powerful force in my Dad’s life. He and Dad’s Mom, Julia, carved a life for their family out of the scrub land of Northern Minnesota and what Dad called a “Stump Ranch” just east of Issaquah, by Preston. Peter could do or make most anything. That was a trait my Dad embraced. His father died an untimely death in a logging accident in 1942. Many times I heard my Dad say that he wished his own father could have met his boys and watch them grow up. He would say, “If only Dad could see you boys now.” It was his greatest regret.

Yesterday, when we laid my Dad to rest, we included with him the pocket watch his Dad was carrying the day he died. My Dad always kept it in the bedside table next to him.

Dad so strongly conveyed to us that sense of family and history and value. He also was full of style.

Yesterday Dad wore a beautiful custom made pinstripe suit and monogrammed shirt from Beck’s of Bellevue. He was always well dressed.

When I was young he quoted to me from Hamlet:

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy
But not expressed in fancy, rich, not gaudy.
For apparel oft proclaims the man.

He learned that from a high school teacher in Issaquah. Dad said, if you don’t have much money buy at least one quality garment. It will look good and you will feel great wearing it. I thank Dad for that.

Dad was a master with wood. Many of you have seen the product of his talents. The 42 foot cruiser Kullan was a marvel. He built it in 14 months in the back yard of the Yarrow Point house while also building the three campuses of Seattle Community College. He was up at 4am working until 7am and then would put in a long day at the office only to work on the boat again at night. He did the same thing in Ellensburg, building a new 3500 square foot house while working as Superintendent of Schools and building a new High School. We were in awe of his energy and wondered how he did it all in what seemed to us as young boys, such an effortless manner. He knew how to do most everything.

He built amazing fine furniture. We were all surprised at Christmas to receive identical tool chests, with felt lined drawers for fine tools. Another year we all received slightly different beautiful oak coffee tables. Every granddaughter received exquisite doll houses. Grandpa spared no love or care on the smallest detail.

Mom and Dad spent many a wonderful summer for almost 30 years cruising the San Juan Islands on the Kullan. We remember dropping anchor in small coves. Catching dinner (halibut, shellfish,) and picking berries from the shore so Mom could bake a berry pie. By the way, Dad could pick wild blackberries faster than anyone else. It was never one for the pail; one for me. His bucket filled quicker than anyone else’s.

That wasn’t the only bucket he knew how to fill. One time in Ellensburg there was a cow milking contest pitting two teams against one another. Both teams were made up of “college” and “city” people. Dad was on the college team and the other team had no knowledge of Dad’s background. When the contest started Dad was quickly getting milk from his team’s cow while the other team was getting nowhere. The other team said it was not fair to keep Dad’s hidden talent a secret.

He taught us to hunt and fish. He loved hunting and trained our Brittany Spaniels, Rex and Brit to point with perfection. As young adults we were invited to join Dad and his pals on the Clockum Ridge outside Ellensburg at Elk camp. Elk camp was fabled, and somewhere during the tall tails, hearty food and cutting firewood we learned the true meaning of life.

His Scandinavian roots (which he shared in part with Mom) were important to him. When he started school in Minnesota he couldn’t speak English as only Swedish and Norwegian were spoken at home and with neighbors. Consequently he got a slow start in the educational system. He quickly adapted and became fluent in the American Dream. Dad finished with a bang however, being the last living graduate with four degrees from Washington State University. We have his cap and gown here, but Dad was equally at home in his bib overalls. And, he related with equal ease to people from every walk of life. He made friends easily and they became life long. Some of you are here today.

Dad had a great sense of humor and was a wonderful practical joker. You could always count on Dad for a Scandinavian joke. One we heard once a year or so involved Ole and Helga (they always had classic Scandinavian names). Ole and Helga were married in Northern Minnesota. After the ceremony, they got in Ole’s car and headed out for their honeymoon. As they drove down the road, Ole laid his hand on Helga’s knee. Helga said, “Ole, you can go further.” At which point Ole drove all the way to Minneapolis.

As kids we learned a few idiomatic Swedish and Norwegian phrases. We could say “How are you?” Name our fingers in Swedish and most important, we learned to say I love you. Jag Elskar Deeg.

So Dad, Thank you for being a wonderful father, our role model, our hero and for being a great husband for Mom.

Jag Elskar Deeg.