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In Loving Memory Of

Jay Dee Higdon

June 2nd, 1947 - May 27th, 2025

Obituary

Jay Dee was born in Portland Oregon June 2nd, 1947. He passed away from pulmonary fibrosis May 27th, 2025.

He is survived by his sisters; Yvonne Morrill and Lunnette Hertel; four nieces and two nephews; his friends and; his partner of 20 years Winni Allison. Two sisters Marietta Rankin and Renee Ford passed before him.

Jay graduated from Marshall High School in 1967 then spent two years in the Army, at Fort Richie in Maryland and was an MP at the underground pentagon in Pennsylvania. He was blessed not to end up in Vietnam. Jay loved learning new things. He was seriously dyslexic, but he could figure out how to do anything mechanical that needed to be done. He lived in a tree house in Sandy Oregon for 30 years. He retired from 9 to 5 work in the 70s and did odd jobs and rented out his house to support his real life as a welder and artist.

Jay made a full-size elephant, it stood on 82nd at the used car lot then moved to HWY 26 and Kelso Rd in front of Geren's Farm store where it stands today. At Christmas it sports a red nose and is wrapped in lights. For years he had a dinosaur mailbox. He made the full-size ostrich that sits east of Sandy on the north side of HWY 26. He made an eagle that sits on top of a business in downtown Portland. On Industrial Way in Sandy there is a 4ft tall strawberry and raspberry sculpture of his as well. For years there was an 8ft tall Big Foot that stood on the lot across from where Fred Meyers stands today. He made a seal with a fish in its mouth that sat in front of this friend Ron Miller's home, now it sits in Culver Oregon on top of Juniper Butte. Jay made a 5ft tall whale tail that sat overlooking the ocean at the Whale’s Tail Inn. For years he drove his blue car with a weathervane on top and silhouette pictures of the weathervanes he could make painted on the sides as an advertisement for his art.

There are many more of his projects scattered around Oregon. Jay was on the “To Tell the Truth” program with the panel guessing which contestant lived in a tree house. There have been several newspaper stories about his tree house, and it was featured in a video about tree houses in the northwest.

Jay rode his homemade recumbent bike on the parade route before the Sandy Mountain Festival parade started many times. He called himself a “doer” and was always working on a new project. He swam at the Olan Bignell pool in Sandy five days a week from the early 80s until it closed in 2020. He helped many young people with their welding projects. He was a unique one-of-kind person with a kind gentle heart. He was a man who believed in Jesus and God’s promise of heaven.  

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Tribute Wall

I was blessed to grow up a half a mile or so down the road from Jay Dee’s home, and was introduced to him by my big brother when I was just a Tween. Jay had welded motorcycle sprockets together in the form of a dinosaur which was sitting on the heaviest wooden sledge ever known to humans. The Launch of the Dinosaur party was attended by hippies and the moneyed, and after breaking a bottle of champagne over its head, we all pulled that heavy sledge across the road and helped Jay lift the dinosaur onto precisely placed concrete blocks, where it sat for years and years with his mailbox in its mouth and reflectors on the sides of its head for eyes.
Jay had built a platform in a giant fir tree in his yard without putting a single nail into the tree itself, and a rope swing gave one of the most thrilling rides ever. That platform later became his home with a geodesic dome, hot and cold running water, and a counterweight lift for getting up and down. His dog house was an earth, sheltered barrel, and his garden had decorative windmills made from 55 gallon drums. It was magical.
Jay Dee kept my 10 speed going, and rode his own elite bicycle, for which he had invented and manufactured an elliptical gear decades before Specialized put one on their Rockhopper.
In my Tween and Teen years, I often rode my 10 speed up Music Camp Road and then down the terrifying Keisecker Hill to drop in randomly at his home. I was always greeted with kindness, delight, and welcome, and given a tour of whatever he was working on at the moment—a new sculpture or a bicycle he was repairing or improving.
Jay was an island of calm and creativity for me in what was sometimes a chaotic childhood.
If Jay was a man of Faith—as his obituary tells me—I never knew it, and that is not a bad thing. He didn’t have a house full of merch, or make declarations, make anyone feel lesser in their own Faith. If he was a man of Faith, he simply lived it, being welcoming, accepting, and loving, and I was a benefactor of that lived Faith. We could certainly use more of that Christ-like, simply and fully lived, Faith in the world today as Jay demonstrated.
His memory will be forever a blessing to me and to so many others.
Cora Boothby
I was blessed to grow up a half a mile or so down the road from Jay Dee’s home, and was introduced to him by my big brother when I was just a Tween. Jay had welded motorcycle sprockets together in the form of a dinosaur which was sitting on the heaviest wooden sledge ever known to humans. The Launch of the Dinosaur party was attended by hippies and the moneyed, and after breaking a bottle of champagne over its head, we all pulled that heavy sledge across the road and helped Jay lift the dinosaur onto precisely placed concrete blocks, where it sat for years and years with his mailbox in its mouth and reflectors on the sides of its head for eyes.
Jay had built a platform in a giant fir tree in his yard without putting a single nail into the tree itself, and a rope swing gave one of the most thrilling rides ever. That platform later became his home with a geodesic dome, hot and cold running water, and a counterweight lift for getting up and down. His dog house was an earth, sheltered barrel, and his garden had decorative windmills made from 55 gallon drums. It was magical.
Jay Dee kept my 10 speed going, and rode his own elite bicycle, for which he had invented and manufactured an elliptical gear decades before Specialized put one on their Rockhopper.
In my Tween and Teen years, I often rode my 10 speed up Music Camp Road and then down the terrifying Keisecker Hill to drop in randomly at his home. I was always greeted with kindness, delight, and welcome, and given a tour of whatever he was working on at the moment—a new sculpture or a bicycle he was repairing or improving.
Jay was an island of calm and creativity for me in what was sometimes a chaotic childhood.
If Jay was a man of Faith—as his obituary tells me—I never knew it, and that is not a bad thing. He didn’t have a house full of merch, or make declarations, make anyone feel lesser in their own Faith. If he was a man of Faith, he simply lived it, being welcoming, accepting, and loving, and I was a benefactor of that lived Faith. We could certainly use more of that Christ-like, simply and fully lived, Faith in the world today as Jay demonstrated.
His memory will be forever a blessing to me and to so many others.
Cora Boothby
I was blessed to grow up a half a mile or so down the road from Jay Dee’s home, and was introduced to him by my big brother when I was just a Tween. Jay had welded motorcycle sprockets together in the form of a dinosaur which was sitting on the heaviest wooden sledge ever known to humans. The Launch of the Dinosaur party was attended by hippies and the moneyed, and after breaking a bottle of champagne over its head, we all pulled that heavy sledge across the road and helped Jay lift the dinosaur onto precisely placed concrete blocks, where it sat for years and years with his mailbox in its mouth and reflectors on the sides of its head for eyes.
Jay had built a platform in a giant fir tree in his yard without putting a single nail into the tree itself, and a rope swing gave one of the most thrilling rides ever. That platform later became his home with a geodesic dome, hot and cold running water, and a counterweight lift for getting up and down. His dog house was an earth, sheltered barrel, and his garden had decorative windmills made from 55 gallon drums. It was magical.
Jay Dee kept my 10 speed going, and rode his own elite bicycle, for which he had invented and manufactured an elliptical gear decades before Specialized put one on their Rockhopper.
In my Tween and Teen years, I often rode my 10 speed up Music Camp Road and then down the terrifying Keisecker Hill to drop in randomly at his home. I was always greeted with kindness, delight, and welcome, and given a tour of whatever he was working on at the moment—a new sculpture or a bicycle he was repairing or improving.
Jay was an island of calm and creativity for me in what was sometimes a chaotic childhood.
If Jay was a man of Faith—as his obituary tells me—I never knew it, and that is not a bad thing. He didn’t have a house full of merch, or make declarations, make anyone feel lesser in their own Faith. If he was a man of Faith, he simply lived it, being welcoming, accepting, and loving, and I was a benefactor of that lived Faith. We could certainly use more of that Christ-like, simply and fully lived, Faith in the world today as Jay demonstrated.
His memory will be forever a blessing to me and to so many others.
Cora Boothby
I was the little girl that he would roll the ladder up on, as I always tried to climb it,I lived there where the the house still is, I remember our donkey jack, Jd was definitely someone I never forgot as I was 4 yrs in now 52yrs old, my mom and dad were ED (HERBIE) MY MOM WAS PAMELA DAW
THAT PLACE IS MY STRONGEST MEMORIES AS A CHILD
THANK YOU JD
Misty Bye

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