Early in the morning of June 6, Dean Laite passed away from heart failure.  Having lived with heart problems for many years, and having many close calls during trips to the emergency room at the U of M's Health center, this time Dean didn't survive. 

Dean was a Kingfield neighborhood fixture. For many years, Dean could be seen in his jean jacket in all types of weather pushing a cart loaded with items he intended to take apart for scrap.  An avid metal scrapper, he saw value in things others didn't and became someone neighbors knew to alert when they had an item they couldn't use any more.   This summer, as Dean recognized his declining health, he shared that perhaps this last collection of scrap would be his last and he'd "retire" from this job he had landed on. 

Officially disabled, Dean was anything but unable.  Dean saw himself as a community organizer, and was the block leader for the 3600 block of Nicollet for many years.  Dean welcomed neighbors, listened to their stories, connected people to resources, and worked with his neighbors to organize the yearly night-out event despite the challenges of living on busy Nicollet Avenue.  Dean looked forward to Open Streets Nicollet for the opportunity to volunteer and share his love of his neighborhood.

That love was certainly present in the way Dean kept his small parcel of property. A proud homeowner, Dean often lamented that tiny houses like his were hard to find, and worried that affordable places like these were getting snapped up by developers to build expensive apartments that only increased housing insecurity.  Dean liked to say that no developer could ever buy him out of his house, "where would I go?"  

Having a small yard to care for didn't keep Dean from dreaming big though.  Feeding bees, birds and neighborhood cats (and other wildlife he like to point out) was part of Dean's way of being present in his space.  He loved to garden and was always searching for a "next" plant to add to the collection, with a new magnolia tree planted just the week before Dean died. Roses, peonies, lillies, hosta and cactus were his favorites.  He tended a plum tree and raspberry bushes, tomatoes, and many more.  Dean loved to show off his plants to anyone who'd stop by, sharing what had just bloomed or was coming up, and how each of the plants had medicinal properties that were once well known by indigenous people.

Dean acknowledged his indigenous background through his participation in powwows as well.  He loved to share stories of the events he had attended, often in the role of "security."  Dean had a cookbook from an aunt with family recipes that helped him understand the power of foods to heal.  He liked to say that when he wasn't feeling well, he knew what foods to find and dishes to make to return to health.  Dean attended Metro State where he received a degree in Native American Indian Studies. He also took online courses to receive a Divinity of Evangelism Degree.

Dean grew up in the Austin area of southern Minnesota but moved to the twin cities as a young man, distancing himself from his family.  There were challenges and troubles that led him to the cities, but he didn't like to focus on those issues.  Instead, he found a new family in neighbors, and grew to become a well-loved member of True Vine Ministry's congregation, developing a dear relationship with their pastor John Hunter.  Because Dean didn't drive, he relied on a wide network of friends and neighbors to help him run errands, and increasingly to get him back and forth to doctor appointments.  If you needed to drive Dean on an errand, he knew the back routes and quickest way anywhere in the city and often pointed out the apartments he had lived in before purchasing his house. Dean didn't like the anonymity of mobility services, but was an avid public transportation user and didn't mind a long walk.   Dean relied on the services of Meals on Wheels and the Incarnation Food Shelf, as well as home care attendants and other state services that provided dignity, a listening ear, and the ability for him to remain in his house. 

Dean's most loved companion was definitely his cat, Tweety.  Dean was devoted to her and fretted about her care whenever he needed to have a stay in the hospital.  Dean's collection of toys for Tweety and her wonderful ability to keep him company meant that he wasn't really alone on his own.  That Tweety was able to be adopted into a family that knew Dean over the years is a relief to us all.

Dean also kept up with the world through social media and found ways to stay connected to a dear cousin that way.  As a regular commentator, Dean wasn't shy about letting anyone know his views on crime and safety, affordable housing, food insecurity, environmental issues, and care for our earth and the most vulnerable.   Dean had a special interest in our newest immigrant neighbors and did whatever he could to help them feel welcomed in the neighborhood.

Dean served on the Kingfield Neighborhood Association board for that very reason, to give voice to people who were not connected to leadership and power.  Dean was most interested in crime and safety issues, knowing the impact these have disproportionately on the poor and marginalized.  While quirky and a bit rough around the edges, Dean had a way of bringing a unique and necessary voice to the Kingfield neighborhood.  When he lost an election to the board and was named an alternate, he took that in stride and continued to be present and proudly served as an alternate.

Dean really didn't have a mean place in his heart.  While he was a bit perturbed by big corporations and greedy developers, he always offered a positive, hopeful, and loving presence.  He had treats and small gifts to hand out to anyone who gave him a little help.  And if he sensed anyone feeling a bit of distress, he had a kind word, joke, or a little trick to offer.  On one of my last grocery trips with Dean, I left him sitting next to an elderly black woman on a bench outside the store while I retrieved the car to load his groceries.  When I returned a couple minutes later, Dean announced that he had made a new friend.

And all of us who knew Dean as a friend, knew him that way - so willing to enter into a friendship and to build it any way he could.  Phone calls at any and all times of the day were certainly part of this.  Our neighborhood mail carrier knew that if Dean saw him coming up the sidewalk, there would be several minutes of chatting and another story to hear, knew to be prepared for that.  Dean enjoyed inviting you in to his tiny house so that he could share his hospitality with you (and let you marvel at the number of clocks he had collected).

A fan of Dr. Who and old game shows, of venison jerky, cucumber salad and barbeque, a spiritual and spirit filled man, he had some pretty set ways that helped him navigate his world. Dean was both a simple person and quite complex.  Due to his large size, he was not often missed, but could be overlooked.  That we may not have appreciated him as much as we should says more about us than about Dean.  He will be missed.