Deane is an easy guy to take for granted...one of those quiet, steady types who goes about everything without drawing attention to himself. Within a few months of meeting him, I realized "I'm going to marry that guy." And I wasn't looking to get married. I had plans: finish grad school, work for an international nonprofit, live single. Yet that didn't keep me from flirting with the quiet writer who worked in the sweltering office in UW's old Ag Journalism building. All the international students seemed to find their way to his office, too--the guy from Indonesia, the agriculturalist from Brazil, the journalist-survivor of Tiananmen Square --they often found their way to his office to chat with the kind, unassuming guy who had an appreciation for their alien journey.
For some reason I liked Deane's "style". What style? you might ask. Well, he always wore flannel shirts with one sleeve rolled up and the other sleeve flapping unbuttoned around his wrist. He wore work boots and gray socks -- always gray athletic socks -- even with a suit at a wedding. I asked him if he had blue socks, and he said that it was just easiest to have one color because they would always match.
The gray socks tell you a lot about Deane. He's a guy who wants to keep things simple. He doesn't want a lot of stuff, nor does he need it. He plays his mandolin, grows a garden, plays games with his daughters, grills and cooks delicious food, and generally keeps all our wheels turning in the right direction. He's a great dad and husband and friend. So, for the record, I'm glad I flirted with him and took the relational left turn that landed me in Wisconsin. And for the record, he's a great dad. We love you, Deane.
