Lee Dean: A long and fruitful encounter with Scandinavian divinity

Lee A. Dean screendoor@sbcglobal.net I walked into the newsroom of the DeKalb, Illinois Daily Chronicle on November 16, 1986 to begin a new job as the assistant editor. When you begin a new job, you always hope that you’ll like the people you will be working with. All of those colleagues eventually became good friends, and one in particular. You might say we had a certain kind of electricity between us. My boss, sitting to my left, liked to deal with deadline pressure by smoking one Kool cigarette after another. Three months earlier, I had quit smoking, and did not appreciate his brand of mentholated malevolence.

As the air became blue, a reporter named Dawn sitting kitty-corner from me produced a tiny fan, plugged it in and blew the smoke away. My boss was not amused, but I was grateful. A few minutes later I noticed a small box-like appliance on my desk that I had never seen before. I was informed that this item was an electric pencil sharpener. The idea of someone needing electrical assistance to sharpen a pencil struck me as ludicrous, so I unplugged the box and stowed it in a desk drawer.

Little did I know that the lady with the fan welcomed this seemingly meaningless act. It turns out that my predecessor dealt with deadline pressure in a most annoying fashion by grinding one pencil after another down to a nub with that appliance. That was the beginning of my life with the person who became a great friend and later my wife. She is the one readers of this column know as the Viking Goddess. The “Viking” is in recognition of her Swedish heritage. As for the “goddess” part, keep reading. When our friendship caught fi re, the VG lived in Peoria, Illinois and I lived in Grand Rapids. “What do I want with a girlfriend six hours away?” I kept asking myself. I got my answer on her fi rst visit to Grand Rapids when she discovered she had forgotten to bring her luggage. Her reaction to this disaster was typical Viking Goddess: laugh at the absurdity of it all and then go fi x the problem. Off we went on an adventure to replace the missing clothes. In the process, I was treated to a fashion show worthy of the other noteworthy girl from DeKalb, Cindy Crawford. When we went to church the following Sunday, one of the other guys in my singles group pulled me aside and said only three words: “You lucky dog.” Soon, the prospect of being six hours apart became unbearable. We were worried that being married would somehow wreck the friendship. Instead, the friendship has only grown deeper, especially as I learned more about her long list of admirable qualities. For a marriage to fl ourish, both parties have to be willing to pull the wagon. The Viking Goddess is a true and trusted partner who does her share and then some. As someone who has the mechanical ability of a garden slug, I’m also quite glad that the VG is handy. I can fi x dinner just fi ne, but she can fi x both dinner and the refrigerator. The Viking Goddess has been blessed with other skills. She can make her own wedding dress, teach a class, give a speech and decorate a front porch so lavish in fl owers that it’s the envy of the neighborhood. The attribute that most displays the spark of divinity in the Viking Goddess is her compassionate servant’s heart. She has the chops to make a huge salary in the private sector, but has instead chosen to serve the community by coming alongside those who need help with fi nances, jobs and life in general. She has carved out a ministry niche in our church by sending cards of encouragement. She frequently makes the 5-hour drive back to Illinois to care for her 93-year-old mother, who is another Viking goddess. One incident demonstrates this servant’s heart more than any other. Two days before I was to leave for a twoweek study tour to Israel, the VG was driving home from work and blacked out. Her vehicle left the road, struck a utility pole head-on and snapped it. When I saw her a half-hour later, she was in the ER, her face covered in cuts and bruises and sore all over. Before I could say a word, she pointed at me and declared, “You’re going to Israel.” The phrase “better half” can be overused, but in this case, it’s true. The wise, smart, compassionate heart of the Viking Goddess is the heart I can’t do without.

I wrote this column because I believe in fl owers for the living. This 800-word bouquet is presented in gratitude for 35 years with the Viking Goddess and to the God who is the giver of all good things.