In Remembrance.

Dan Reese Eliason

Our good neighbor Dan passed away on December 2. He was 77. The girls and I saw or spoke with Dan on a daily basis. We will miss his good conversation and congenial personality. He loved the girls and the girls loved Dan. Dan always had a kind word, or a honk and wave, and a friendly smile. In anticipation of attending his viewing services tonight (something that I dread going to, no matter the person), I have reflected on the first time I met him, a few of our times together and the many stories he shared with me.

Mick and I were new homeowners the summer of 01'. We were broke and pregnant with our first and couldn't afford a dryer. One day while I was taking advantage of the summer sun and the clothes lines hanging across the backyard, I met Dan. His back property line was adjacent to mine and we did not have a fence that separated us. As I was hanging my whites- yes, those rarely seen whites!- an old man in a cowboy hat, leaning against his side fence smoking a long cigarette said "well hey there neighbor! I'm Dan Eliason- I live in this here house". I shook his hand, introduced myself and we chit chatted it up while the laundry dried. We talked about the neighborhood, his deceased wife, his mother he was caring for, his children, when my baby was due, and about his buddy Don Smith that used to own our home. He never remarked about my undies hanging on the line and the next day I was hoping he didn't catch a glimpse of them rehung after I had to rewash them because they reeked of cigarette smoke. The good conversation was worth it. He was the first neighbor I had met.

After that day Dan and I would talk at the fence often, him knocking his bud into a rusted tin can while I worked in the yard or chased kids. A few years later we would put up a fence- not to keep Dan away, but to keep the kids at bay. I remember hoping that Dan didn't think we were trying to block him out. To my surprise, about a week later, he dropped off $150.00 for his part in the fee of the fence we now shared and remarked at how good it looked. We had not asked him for money but he felt it was due. We rarely spoke over the fence after that. It definitely separated us, but we hardly went a day without a passing honk and wave as he made his way to the gas station to meet with his boys or to check on his properties.

As the children grew, we ventured past his house on walks and bike rides. We would often catch him sitting on his porch, sometimes with his 'lady friend', so we'd stay and sit a while. He told me the park down the street was named after his family. He owned the land after he lived in its' run down house as a newly wed. When he and his wife built their new home, he had the 'old shack' leveled, leaving a vacant lot. He donated the land to the City of Logan with the agreement they would build a park. "They decided to name it after me, I guess", he shared. We are grateful for his donation and inspired choice to leave the legacy of Eliason Park. He was always generous with his possessions. The girls and I use Eliason park almost daily during the summer months- sometimes even in winter. Dan loved to see children happily at play and commented on how much more pretty that corner looked.

Dan was always out having a smoke until he developed emphysema and was put on oxygen. He pointed to his front fence one afternoon with his old sturdy finger and said "see that hole in the fence? I had to take a plank down so when the bishop would walk around the block for his exercise, I'd know when I had to put my cigarette out- I didn't want him to catch me, you see". We shared a good laugh about that one.

He taught me a little about the cattle auction and told me about his life as a butcher, meat processor and distributor. His company was Merlin Eliason Livestock and Trucking. I'd dare say he owned all the rangeland you see west of 500 west in Logan City limits. 

We would deliver him fresh garden tomatoes from the vine- his favorite. He would often give the girls a few nickels, maybe a dollar if they were lucky, just for being "so cute". Up until the last day we saw him he always reveled in how old the girls were getting, what "good, sweet girls" Mick and I had and how much he enjoyed us. Our affection was the same toward him. The last time we spoke was in the middle of the road, him headed to his physical therapy in his red truck and I in the crosswalk headed to pick up Liberty from school. He had oxygen and a smile, his legs hurt but he was out and about with his trademark conversation and personality.

We will miss him, and are happy he has rejoined his wife after 20+ years without her. What a great neighbor he was to us.