St. George, Utah – Melvin Dean Skalla 1938 - 2024. That's what the tombstone will say. There's always a story between the dates.

The world was in turmoil in 1938. A Great Depression had raged for nearly a decade and war clouds were gathering. It was no time to bring another child into the world.

Yet that's what happened in tiny Uravan, Colorado midway through that difficult, rocky year. On June 30, 1938, Melvin Dean Skalla was born to Helen and Tony Skalla, who already had two sons, Allan, 12, and Derald, 10.

Tony's parents had left Eastern Europe in the 1880s in search of a better life, like all immigrants, in search of opportunity in America. They made their way to Western Colorado because the mountains here were said to be like those back home: solid, like a rock. Like a Skalla. The meaning of the word skala in the old country is rock. These rock-hard people became miners, farmers, ranchers, laborers. They started new lives here in the Rocky Mountains.

A second world war in just the past 25 years would be fought during Dean's formative years. Due in no small part to rocks mined in Uravan by Dean's father and two older brothers, World War II would end abruptly after bombs containing uranium and vanadium were used for the first time. The rocks for which Uravan was named.

Fate or accident would lead the Skalla family to Norwood about the same time Dean's future first – and only – girlfriend arrived. They were classmates in a joint third and fourth grade class in Norwood Elementary. Her family was leaving the mines of Telluride for fertile farm and ranch lands on Wrights Mesa.

On a neighboring mesa, called Beaver Mesa, young Dean and his parents made it their home for a couple summers as his father and others logged the tall timber. Decades later Dean and Judy would buy that mesa in the mountains and make it his home once again. Checking water with shovels in hand and herding cattle with grandkids on ATVs became one of his favorite pastimes in later life.

Dean never played the lottery, yet he won it handily when Judy Oliver agreed to date him in high school. She was walking her 4-H calf along a backstreet in Norwood when he first worked up the courage to ask her to prom. She said yes, which began a classic American love story. They married in 1960 before their senior year at Colorado State University. Dean graduated in civil engineering and Judy in English.

Dean took a job building roads with a fly-by-night construction firm called Kiewit, which would be his sole employer for his 31-year career. They bought a single-wide trailer and filled it as fast as they could with five boys, except on the way to hospital to deliver the fifth child in six years, they met the Wyoming stork along Highway 30 outside of Bosler, and traded for a baby girl. The attending physician to the roadside birth: "M.D. Skalla."

The family of seven outgrew their trailer and found themselves moving into a house in Sheridan, WY. It had stairs, a novelty to the trailer-raised kids. It also had a backyard the kids could play in and a hillside for sledding and digging tunnels.

The kids continued to grow, as did Dean's career with Kiewit, and he found himself being transferred to Omaha, NE as president of the mining division. In Omaha the family made wonderful lifelong friends. Some played tennis and basketball with Dean, and colluded on how to get him to join another team: the LDS Church. Dean had resisted overtures for years, but attended weekly services with his faithful wife and ornery kids, and even accepted a calling in scouting.

About the time his boys were nearly arrested for breaking into the church, again, to play basketball, a friend wrote a letter from his mission in Spain encouraging Dean to exercise a particle of faith by planting a seed and advised that even if he can only desire to believe, then that's enough. Dean was baptized in August 1978 by his 16-year-old son, Randy.

And then all hell broke loose. Not really. But Dean's carefree days of playing tennis on Sundays and drinking iced tea were over. The brethren in Omaha said, "let's see if this guy is committed." He was made scout master and beekeeper… at the same time. He found the stinging bees easier to work with than the wild boys.

Other callings came later, like president of an elder's quorum, and he later served five years hard time as president of a priest quorum. He served in a stake presidency and then as a branch president in Naturita, the same building where Judy started going to church the last semester of her senior year in high school to find answers to her questions. They'd come full circle.

A few years later the phone rang, and the caller wanted to speak with Melvin. "What do you want!" Dean demanded of the telemarketer who dared call him the "M" word. "I'm so sorry, Brother Skalla," came the reply. "I'm calling from the Church Administration Building in Salt Lake City, and we'd like you and your wife to serve a mission here."

When asked recently by one of his children if he had any regrets, Dean didn't mention chewing out the elderly gentleman from church headquarters who had called him Melvin.

In fact, Dean couldn't think of any regrets, so was prompted: "What about who you married, Dad. Any regrets?" "No," he replied, "I'd do that again." "Would you have all those kids again?" He considered that for a moment before responding, "Can't think of which one I'd get rid of."

"What about your career, any regrets there? "No, that worked out well."

"What about joining that church, Dad. Any regrets there?" He said, "No, that's worked out really well."

The interviewer pressed for something, anything, he regretted, Dean thought long and hard in his hospital bed. Then something came to him.

"When I was a sophomore in high school I was driving my old 1946 Plymouth around Norwood with some friends. We saw a girl delivering The Grit newspaper and they egged me on to drive by the side of the road where she was walking near rain puddles. I splashed her pretty good. I've always felt bad about that."

Judy piped in and said, "Hey, I used to deliver The Grit in Norwood!" Dean didn't know that, but it wasn't Judy he splashed.

To the young lady who would now be in her early 80s: Dean Skalla is very sorry for splashing you that day in 1953.

An ancient scripture pleads, "Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors." (Matthew 6: 11-12)

If that's the biggest regret a man has after more than 86 years on this planet, he's probably done a decent job of living life as best he can.

We think he heard these words upon his passing in St. George:

"Well done thou good and faithful servant… Enter into the joy of thy Lord." (Matthew 25:23)

Dean Skalla was a humble follower of Jesus Christ. He was also a quiet leader. Someone once said "I can't hear what you say because your actions speak so loud." Dean Skalla's actions did all his talking and spoke volumes for him.

We will see you again, Papa. But not yet. First, and as the poet said, "we have promises to keep, and miles to go before we sleep."

Dean is survived by his beloved wife, Judy; and their five children: Randy (Julie), Mike (Shannon), Bart (Natalie), Pete (Julie) and Carol. Papa Dean has too many grandchildren (20) and great grandchildren (26… so far) to count.

Funeral services will be held Friday, November 8, 2024, at 11:00 a.m. in the Stake Center of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints located at 1521 S. Hillcrest Drive, Montrose, CO. Interment will be at the Norwood Cemetery.

In lieu of flowers, a memorial gift could be given to Second Chance Humane Society in Ridgway, CO, https://secondchancehumane.org/support-us/donate/

Those unable to attend are invited to view the services at the following link: Dean Skalla Livestream