Joel Olson

Joel David Olson, 77

Joel David Olson passed away on Feb. 1, 2017, in Coeur d’Alene at the age of 77 years. Joel was born in Detroit Lakes, Minn., on Aug. 2, 1939, to John Victor and Edith Olson. During his childhood the family slowly moved westward — Joel became an enthusiast of the western lifestyle during his growing up years spent in Montana and he met his wife, Sandra, in Coeur d’Alene.

Joel worked as a Journeyman Cement Mason and lived in Idaho, Wyoming, Utah, Oregon and Washington during his working years, with the majority of those years spent in Centralia, Wash., where he raised his family. He served in the Army National Guard for several years. Joel had a sincere faith in Jesus Christ. He happily served his church in Centralia by volunteering his masonry skills to help construct a new church sanctuary in the 1980s.

Always a skilled artist, he enjoyed the opportunity to pursue this interest more fully during his retirement years, through pen and ink drawing, oil painting and sculpture. One of the highlights of this pursuit was in 2010 when his painting “Treats It Like His Own” was selected as the poster art for the annual Spirit of the West Cowboy Gathering in Ellensburg, Wash.

Other pastimes he enjoyed included horseback riding, camping, hobby farming, sightseeing and watching his grandson’s sporting events.

He is survived by his wife, Sandra (Mason) Olson of Coeur d’Alene; son Chuck Olson (Cara Weipert) of Spokane; daughter Kris Hand (Don) of Kennewick, Wash.; and grandson Cody Hand of Kennewick. He is also survived by his brother, Jerome Olson of Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, Canada; brother-in-law Kenneth Smith of Coeur d’Alene; and several nieces and cousins.

A private memorial service will be planned for a later time.

A poem written several years ago by friend C. Nikkol Storms is a lovely tribute:

Ode to a Real Ole Cowboy

Folk round here still call him Joel, of course,

Though he’s the good ole “student of a beast called horse.”

With his cowboy hat, wrangler vest, and an open pack of straights,

Ya’ know he smokes em’ two at a time, blue eyes shinin’, smile on his face.

He can tell ya how the west was won, and help you build ‘bout anything.

He’ll take you home to meet his wife, or take you out to hear the music man sing.

And while his calloused hands have spent a life grinding concrete smooth,

After sixty some years he’s up’n decided, he’s finally paid his dues.

So he works some odd jobs, here and there, waiting till it’s time to play

With paints and brushes, clay and bronze, cause to him, there’s no other way.

Cause he was born country, and we all know, that’s what he’ll always be,

And he’s got the gift of puttin’ it down, so the rest of us can see,

How real men work, the sunrise dew, and the picnic spot by the lake,

good packin’ mules, and the hip of a horse it takes a real cowboy to break.

And if you ask him how art so nice can come from a man tough as hell.

He’ll simply smile with blue eye’s shinin’ cause he knows he will prevail.