I met Lonny as a Macalester College freshman, playing against his team in an intramural volleyball game. It was the most fearsome sight I'd ever seen--a gigantic man-child laughing and screaming and pounding balls at us at supersonic speeds. His team won the championship all four years, and he was the undisputed hero. We saw each other a few times in Economics classes, and at keggers and other socials, and he was funny and gregarious. We eventually became friends and played many intramural sports together. We were part of a frat-like group of fun-loving guys called the Buckhorn Beergardeners (named after our favorite inexpensive beer), and did all sorts of outrageous things for our amusement. (outrageous was Lonny's middle name!)
Lonny had many talents--not the least of which were an encyclopedic knowledge of music, and the ability to create alcoholic drinks of unlimited variety and quantity. He loved his family and friends, the outdoors, sports, and pretty much all people and animals. He was at heart just a big kid, with infectious enthusiasm, and a drive to include everyone in his gigantic orbit. He was also the best at keeping in touch--I can't recall how many times he'd call me out of the blue just to say hi; and I know he did the same to so many of the people in his life.
The Big Fella will be sorely missed.
Rock and Roll Heaven just got their bartender and DJ....
R.I.P., Lonny!

Our dad loved music more than anyone I've ever known. 
He loved smooth jazz and the blues and classic rock.
He loved big Sunday brunches that always concluded with cinnamon rolls.
He loved nature and sending us pictures of sunsets. 
He loved sweets of any kind and suggested dessert after dinner every night. 
He loved his granddaughter Jensen, his mother Joanie.
He loved good whiskey and a good story, his summers on the railroad and his camping trips in Yellowstone. 
He loved golf, and practicing his swing, often while on road trips to “stretch his legs.”
He loved Pat, and her family that he adopted as his own. 
He loved democracy and always got emotional talking about our right to vote. 
He loved any gift we gave him, no matter how small, and always cried when receiving it. 
He loved IMAX movies and lately he really loved Anthony Bourdain. 
He loved “resting his eyes” instead of sleeping so he could spend more time with us. 
He loved Chicago and talking about growing up in Hyde Park. 
He loved his brother, who he always tried to protect, and his father, who he always tried to emulate, and he loved our mom. 
He loved telling us about the weather no matter how far apart we were.
He loved Macalester and regaling us with college tales at ‘Mac.'
He loved travel, and delta Biscoffs, which he brought home to us after every trip. 
He loved telling us about Ug and Mug, the cavemen he made up, and playing hop on pop, and wheelbarrowing us upstairs before bed. 
But most of all he loved us kids, and was a glass half full kind of guy, grateful for every day that he was here. 

Growing up, some of my most fond memories were from our bedtime routine. I would often pretend to fall asleep to get my dad to throw me over his shoulder and carry me up to bed. Sharing a room with my older sister Hailey, I remember always begging my dad to stay up a little later and tell us a story about Ugg and Mug, fictional caveman my dad had created. Each night he would come up with a creative story about the adventures of the two cavemen. My dad was described by a good friend as a big kid and this story really embodies that idea. Beyond being incredibly intelligent, he was creative, playful, and loved to make people around him smile and laugh. I hope to one day carry on the legacy of Ugg and Mug stories to my little ones and tell stories about how wonderful their Grandpa was.

In the Spring of 1990, I was planning a first fly-in Canadian fishing trip for my two brothers (then from Vegas) and cousin; whom we had not seen for years.  Just a few weeks before the big trip, the cousin cancelled and I was stuck with a 4th seat to fill; as back then you rented the whole plane and cabin.  I had to find a substitute or our individual share of the cost was going up substantially.  I called around and casually mentioned to Steve that we had an opening for a fourth for the trip.  Steve was single and living in Chicago at the time and a few days in the wilds of Canada sounded great to him.  I had met Steve in the early 80's when we both worked for EW Blanch in Stamford CT and thought I knew him well enough to share a cabin and boat.  My brothers had never met the man who would soon impart a number of "Lonnyisms" and forever become an affectionate honorary member of the family.
I'll post some photos from that trip when I can find the right shoe box of prints and scan them (remember prints?).  Without further ado, here some of the highlights as I remember them:

1. the plan was for Steve and my brothers to fly to MSP on Saturday, stay at my house and get the packing sorted before leaving early on Sunday morning, as we had to make the border crossing and get to the float plane base before dark.  Upon arrival, Steve informed us that he had a party to attend in a neighboring town that night; but not to worry; he'd be back by midnight at the latest.  Sunday morning, no Steve.  Finally, about 9am; a taxi pulls up and deposits our hero on my lawn.  Steve told us that he had met a wonderful girl that night (Laura Reick) and hoped he'd see her again!  Lonnyism number one... "early" is a relative term, be more specific if a particular time is required.

2. speeding North on I35 we were introduced to Lonnyism #2... Road trips require Road Tunes.  Steve produced two home mix tapes (remember cassette tapes) that were a wonderful collection of blues, rock, soul and a bit of country too.  We loved those tapes.  A couple weeks after the trip, I found a copy of the mix tape in my mailbox.  Steve was spreading the fun!

3. Arriving at the border, we must have appeared as hungover hooligans as we all had to produce an ID and explain why we wanted to enter Canada.  Discovered Steve had left his wallet back at the party!  He was hauled in to an office and a sniffer dog was set upon my car.  Seemed the Canadians had to verify Steve was a US resident and at least was not a wanted man, before releasing him.  A while later, all his luggage was removed and brought into the office.   Thought that was the last we were going to see of Steve, but alas, a utility bill was pulled from his luggage that matched the address the authorities had found on their computer.  Adventure back on!!  Back on the road, Steve was upbeat for a guy without a wallet and just detained by border patrol.  Hey, he shared, "Laura must have my wallet and that means I'll get to see her again".  Lonnyism #3 No Worries.. Be Happy...

So many memories of that trip are special because Steve was with us.  Like the pilot taking a first look at the 4 large guys, piles of gear and beer, shaking his head and muttering... "gonna have to make two trips".   Steve flying the float plane while the pilot was busy with maps.  One morning, Steve made pancakes but we'd forgotten the maple syrup.  No problem, blackberry brandy to the rescue.  Naked beers in the lake side sauna.  Catching and releasing hundreds of walleyes and pike, saving just a few for lunch and dinner. Card games and stories shared under the gas lamps of a log cabin. Steve was eventually reunited with his wallet and Laura, mom of his four children!! There were many more trips and adventures with Steve, but the first one to Canada was special and contributed in a small way with establishing the Lonergan family.  

Steve and I went to a couple concerts in Chastain park during my 12 months in Atlanta '82-83.  Most memorably, and for me, classic Lonnie - was when he was driving departing the park. At what was a T intersection with a stop sign - Steve went straight... onto one of the park's neighbor's lawn.  As his shotgun passenger, this was a bit alarming as we drove over the curb onto someone's lawn.  The hilarious and most memorable part of it was Steve's complaint. "There was NO SIGN".

I loudly second Jennifer Chase's observation on Steve's love of music.  His memory of lyrics was astounding.

I'll never forget the trip my dad and I made to Glacier National Park in 2005. We had done some camping together before through Boy Scouts, but this would be the first big backpacking trip I had ever been on. My dad, having much experience hiking and backpacking, was eager to show me the beauty of Glacier. I remember getting to the airport and getting the bear spray confiscated at security, we didn't really think that one through! We got to Montana and began the drive to Glacier - I remember flying down the 80 mile an hour highways as we listened to music. Once we got to the park, we marveled at the blue water of the lake and began our multi day trek in Glacier. I remember preparing camp meals and hanging our food bag up the bear pole. I remember the ice cold water of the glacial lakes. I remember meeting another father and son doing the same trip, and enjoying a bonfire with them. I remember hearing my dad utter swear words I had never heard before as we were swarmed with bugs on our hike. Perhaps most vividly, I remember reaching the final stretch of our hike and coming across a small store that sold supplies and pastries. My dad and I sat on the porch of the shop and ate our pastries that tasted so good after days of camp food, reminiscing on the fun experience we had.

I will always remember that time we had together as father and son and wish that we had more time for another trip like this.

Whenever I am out camping or hiking, especially in mountains out west which he loved so much, I will think of my dad and all that he shared with me in his love for the outdoors. 

Anyone who knew Steve knows how much he loved music!  I’m guessing a stranger talking to him would learn this within a few minutes .    I’ve been to so many concerts with him (Eagles, James Taylor, Heart, Buffett to name a few).  He was just in heaven - knowing every word to every song and he was filled with stories about the performers or a previous concert he’d been to.   We got tickets a couple of years ago to see Reo Speedwagon at Mystic Lake.  It’s been rescheduled twice due to Covid so sadly, Steve won’t be able to join us this fall.   We’ll go, perhaps to a fine restaurant before... with unique cocktails...  and reminisce about our friend Steve and all our “musical” memories of him.