Growing up in the country, at the edge of the Canadian Rocky Mountains, Dean started at a very young age to appreciate the rural way of life.
He spent a significant part of his childhood involved in country fairs, 4-H, fishing, hunting and splitting firewood, and in his spare time began playing guitar and writing songs.
After years of working and writing on the side, Dean knew that to move forward with music he had to move on to Nashville. In March of 2004, he loaded up a U-haul, hit the I-15 into Montana and began the 2,500 mile trek to Tennessee.
After two years with a Music Row publishing company, Dean got the news that his contract and U.S. work permit would not be renewed. He and his family moved back to Canada.
Dean and his wife drove up to a mining town to find a place to live and made the decision to move - letting the dream of a career in country music go.
The following day Dean made the call to friend and producer Matt Rovey to give him the news, but Matt had some news of his own... producer Keith Stegall (Alan Jackson and George Jones) wanted to sign him to Broken Bow Records! Dean once again hit the I-15 into Montana and moved his family back to Nashville.
Dean (with Matt Rovey producing) just finished up his debut album for BBR.
Dean was involved in a freak water skiing accident in July 2008 that required surgery and a titanium plate had to be inserted into his cheek.
The house was like a tomb.
I was hiding in my room.
As my brother made his way on down the hall.
I didn't want to say goodbye.
And I was trying to deny there was a war,
And that he got the call.
I watched him from my window
Walking down the drive.
Then I ran down the stairway
Through the front door and I cried
You come back you hear?
And I let him see my tears
I said I'll give you my rookie of DiMaggio.
I'll do anything you want,
Clean your room, or wash your car.
I'll do anything so long as you don't go.
But he said, this is what brothers are for.
Well I have my heroes,
But the one I love the most
Taught me how to hunt and swing a bat.
And I wrote him every night,
I said I miss our pillow fights,
But lately I just wonder where you're at.
Sometimes freedom makes it hard to live.
When it takes things from you that you don't want to give.
I said you come back you hear?
I miss you being near.
Laugh and fish down in the maple grove
I'll do anything you want.
There must be someone I can call,
And just maybe they would let you come back home.
But he wrote, this is what brothers are for.
I may never have to face the anger of those guns,
Or lie cold and wounded in my blood,
Or know the sacrifice and what it must of cost
For him to love me that much.
Well, it had been two years,
And I held back my tears
When I saw him in that wheel chair on the shore.
And as I ran and held him tight,
That's when he looked me in the eye
And said I'm sorry that you have to push me home.
And I said hey, this is what brothers are for.
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