Dennis Edson Obituary

Dennis Robert Edson, passed away on Sunday, July 27, 2025 at Kent Hospital in Warwick, RI. Dennis was born on March 4th, 1949 to Virginia and Robert Edson, in Windsor, Vermont. One afternoon, before he was old enough for school, his high-school-aged neighbors persuaded him to test out their homemade rifle. It exploded in his hands. He was unscathed, and known to the boys of his town thereafter as Deadeye. In the Vermont of his youth there were "more guns than people." As a teenager, Dennis went hunting and shot his first deer. He hated the feeling it gave him. He never shot a gun again.

He was a graduate of UVM, a heroic protestor of the Vietnam War, and he attended the Woodstock '69. In one famous anthology of photographs from that concert, you can find him on the far horizon, a small dot wondering at an absurd crowd.

He was a three-sport star athlete: baseball, football, and basketball. The thing he remembered most of his first Red Sox game was easily finding parking on Jersey Street, right beside Fenway Park. How things change.

While at UVM, he began going steady with Maureen Vinci, of Granville, New York. Both families owned cabins on Lake St. Catherine. The two were smitten. They built a life together, careers, one house in Manlius, New York, and many good homes. They were caring people who nursed Maureen's mother through Alzheimer's.

They didn't have children until "later" in life. "We were busy living!" they would both say. Luke Michael Edson was born in 1989. Zachary John Edson was born in 1991. Dennis loved his sons and if he could give any parenting advice, it would be to show up, be present, and smile. He took his sons on approximately seven million camping trips with scouts. He coached Little League. He took them skiing. Once, his sons goaded him into throwing a baseball as high as he could. As they remember it, the ball grazed the belly of a cloud before finally coming back down. It landed on the hood of Dennis's SAAB with so much force that the metal did not dent, but cracked. "Don't tell your mother," he shrugged.

Luke will never forget how present Dennis was, even showing up to cheer at sparsely attended mid-week cross country meets that must have been very dull. Or how totally he loved his granddaughter Zoe, surrounding himself with photos of her and letting her cover his leg brace with stickers.

Zach will never forget their two-person trip to Chicago. They saw Pearl Jam at Wrigley Field. When the concert was delayed due to a midwestern thunderstorm rolling in, Dennis awed nearby concertgoers as he recounted his adventures at Woodstock, and his incredible life. The concert ran so long that most of Chicago's public transit had closed down. Zach remembers Dennis hunching over, in his own words "like a fullback," and shoving onto an overpacked train, so they could get back to their hotel, finally, at five AM.

The boys will also forever remember the time Dennis took them to the Grand Canyon and Zion National Park. And the incredible roadtrip from Los Angeles to Seattle, in a trusty rental car named Bill.

Dennis's siblings David, Donald, and Donna, and their families, Dennis's wife, Maureen, their two sons, Luke and Zach, and their wives Shaina and Sara, as well as Luke and Shaina's daughters Zoe and Mackenzie, all live on, as does his inimitable kindness and zeal for life.

His last day here was one for the books: he got to see his elder granddaughter Zoe play with bubbles, a balloon, and a wiffle ball set he gave her, study a frog, and twirl around her gymnastics set. He got to know that his younger granddaughter arrived here safely, that all was well. He died peacefully in his sleep, next to his untiring, devoted, and loving wife. We are sure there are things he left undone, but it was a good life.

In lieu of flowers, the family asks for donations to the Vermont Land Trust or Michael J Fox Foundation, that you listen to your favorite music a little too loud, protest injustice, and spend some time with loved ones in the woods. March forth!