Ronald H Lundquist, beloved husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle, friend, and patriarch, was born November 28, 1954, in Caldwell, Idaho, to John and Leah Lundquist. He was the youngest of six children, the caboose of siblings Lorraine, Beverly, Floyd, Karen, and Sandra.

He spent his early years on a farm in Midway, where he developed both a strong work ethic and a lifelong sense of adventure—often at the expense of the family's peacocks, chickens, cats, and livestock, who regularly found themselves the targets of his mischief. He later lived in Rome, Oregon; Kittitas and Onalaska, Washington; and graduated from a small high school in Onalaska, where he wrestled and built friendships that lasted his entire life.

In 1973, in St. George, Utah, Ron met Ramona Kay Iverson. Their story began with a "super hot car," quickly followed by a bold introduction. On New Year's Eve, he asked her out while she was still dancing with another young man. Within a week, he proposed—before even meeting her father. They were married on March 1, 1974, in the St. George Utah Temple, beginning a 52-year marriage defined by devotion, loyalty, and deep love. He taught his children—by word and by example—how to honor and cherish a spouse, and Ramona remained the love of his life. The most consistent thing in the final days of his life was holding hands with his sweetheart, at peace and smiling as he looked upon her face.

Two weeks after their wedding, Ron entered the United States Army, completing training in Louisiana and Oklahoma before being stationed in Frankfurt, Germany, where Ramona joined him. Their first child, Kelsey, was born in 1975 during their time overseas. After returning to the United States, they lived in Louisiana before settling in Nampa, Idaho, where they raised their six children: Kelsey, Kayla-Leah, Travis, Tobias, Zetta, and Ciera.

Ron quickly became a pillar of any community he lived in. In Nampa, Cascade, and Meridian, Idaho, he was driven to contribute in any meaningful way.

In Nampa, he raised his family and built a life centered on faith, work, and connection. In Cascade, he immersed himself in the community—opening an outdoor supply store, contributing to local development, and was recruited to Valley County Search and Rescue as a ropes and rigging subject matter expert. He was also a prominent contributor to the Cascade Chamber of Commerce, serving on the board and as president multiple times during his 15 years in Cascade. In Meridian, he managed the Boise/Meridian KOA and went on to found Boise Riverside RV Park, building not just a business, but a place where friendships, family, and adventure came together.

Ron had a strong testimony and a deep love for his Savior. When preparing to leave this life, he stated, "I am not afraid of dying, I know where I will be, and if I was walking down the street in a crowd of people, I would recognize my Savior because I know Him".

Those who knew Ron best understood that his life was guided by four great loves. First, his love for the Lord and the gospel of Jesus Christ. Second, his love for his family—each one prayed for, hoped for, and deeply cherished. Third, his love of service—he sought opportunities to serve and was always prepared when called upon. And fourth, his love of country—he served in Germany at the end of the Vietnam War, playing a role in closing classified operations, and carried a deep respect for his country throughout his life.

He is survived by his sweetheart, Ramona Lundquist; his sister, Karen Siddoway; his brother-in-law, Paul Grigg; his children, Kelsey (Travis) Graybill, Kayla-Leah (Jason) Rich, Travis Lundquist, Tobias (Trinity) Lundquist, Zetta (Spencer) Simpson, and Ciera (Shane) McKeever; 26 grandchildren; 4 step-grandchildren; 5 great-grandchildren, with one more on the way; and countless friends whom he considered family.

He is preceded in death by his parents, John and Leah Lundquist; his siblings, Lorraine (Ray) Hulet, Beverly (Norman) Abliston, Floyd (Marilyn) Lundquist, and Sandra Grigg; his brother-in-law, Gene Siddoway; and other beloved extended family members and dear friends.

Ron was the person you called in the middle of the night—to find a lost hunter, change a flat tire, or sit with you when life felt heavy. That instinct to show up defined his life.

As a young man, he responded to accident scenes before emergency crews arrived—pulling injured individuals to safety, staying with victims on broken glass hillsides, and assisting authorities when others might have driven past. These moments were not exceptions—they were the beginning.

As a ropes and rigging subject matter expert with Valley County Search and Rescue, he dedicated countless hours to searching rugged terrain for the lost. He saved those who could be found and brought what closure he could to families when outcomes were not the ones hoped for. His work in search and rescue also formed lasting bonds, including with the family of a lost pilot—relationships that endured for more than a decade and became part of his own extended family. Whether responding to emergencies, searching wilderness terrain, or stopping along the roadside to help a stranger, Ron became known as a "roadside angel"—someone who showed up without hesitation when it mattered most.

Ron was, in every sense, a jack of all trades. He worked as a shift manager at a truck stop, partnered in a landscaping company, hauled sawdust and livestock, and built opportunities wherever he went. He employed classmates, ran independent operations, and tackled physically demanding and unconventional work with determination and creativity.

He later worked as a trucker, a courier, and a programmer at Simplot, along with roles in Fish and Game and Idaho Door Supply. If something needed to be learned, Ron learned it. If something needed to be built, Ron built it.

He didn't just work hard—he made work an opportunity to include others, teach skills, and create something lasting.

Service was not something Ron did—it was who he was.

He was deeply involved in his community, serving in civic organizations and stepping into roles wherever there was a need. He gave his time, his energy, and his leadership freely. He also created educational programs such as "Nose to Nose" and "In Touch with Our Heritage," bringing wildlife and pioneer history to life for children through hands-on experiences with taxidermy displays, tepees, and a covered wagon. Ron had a gift for teaching by doing. He mentored young people through shared experiences—working alongside them, guiding them, and giving them opportunities to build confidence, skills, and character in real and lasting ways. He believed deeply in preparing the next generation to be capable, resilient, and grounded in values.

Ron was a mentor to many, but for some, he became something even greater—a steady, trusted father figure to young men who had lost their fathers or did not have one present in their lives. He saw them, he made space for them, and he stayed. He showed up in quiet, consistent ways—offering guidance, encouragement, and an example of what a good man looks like. His influence didn't come from position or title, but from the way he lived, and the example he set. His love of teaching and the outdoors often showed up in memorable ways—including the time he and his son Travis were once "kicked out" of a teepee-building competition at Three Island Crossing in Glenns Ferry, Idaho, after setting it up so quickly that it was deemed unfair to the other competitors.

His reach extended beyond what most people saw. He spent time visiting inmates, offering hope, listening without judgment, and reminding them that their lives still held value and purpose. He believed no one was beyond redemption, and he treated every person he met with dignity and compassion.

Through his service with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—including bishoprics, branch presidencies, and Young Men leadership—he found his greatest joy working with youth. He later devoted himself to the APEX program, giving hundreds of young men and leaders opportunities to experience adventure, build confidence, and grow spiritually. Many of those young men remained close to him throughout his life. He was an adventurer at heart, drawn to the outdoors and the challenge of new experiences. He loved rappelling, whitewater rafting, jeeping, camping, snowmobiling, and hunting—anything that brought a little risk, a lot of excitement, and people together. He also had a love for cars and owned more than a few memorable ones over the years—Jeeps, of course, along with a 1971 Plymouth 'Cuda that he bought when it was brand new, a T-bucket, and others that were just as much about the experience as the destination—though had he kept the 'Cuda, it would be a very valuable car today.

The home he built with Ramona was a hub for activity—late nights playing cards, early mornings heading into the mountains, and weekends filled with stories that only got better with time. He built friendships through shared adventure and created a sense of belonging wherever he went.

Even as illness slowed his body, it never diminished his spirit. Adventure wasn't just something he did—it was how he lived. When faced with conflicting schedules trying to find time for the next adventure, his impish response was always, "But how about next weekend?"

Ron had a gift for bringing people together, and nowhere was that more evident than behind a DJ booth. As a mobile DJ for school and church dances, he didn't just play music—he created the soundtrack to people's memories, moments that would stay with them for years. Music, laughter, and connection followed him wherever he went. His children spent many early Saturday mornings loading speakers into the "gig rig," heading off to weddings across the state, and rolling up cables late into the night—tired but happy to have been part of something special, proudly claiming, "We're with the DJ," when striking up conversations with strangers.

Especially in Cascade, he was later remembered as the man who "brought music to our town"—and he did, DJing the annual Fourth of July parade and fireworks, as well as summer street dances in the D-9 parking lot. Any Gen X or Millennial from Cascade or Caldwell can't help but remember Ron when "Cotton-Eyed Joe" or "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" comes over the speakers.

In the final chapter of his life, Ron faced one of his greatest challenges with the same determination he had always shown.

After being diagnosed with Interstitial Lung Disease, he lived day to day tethered to oxygen—his fast-paced life slowed, but never his resolve. Determined to qualify for a lung transplant, Ron fought hard—going to the gym with his oxygen in tow to strengthen his heart and improve his health, doing everything within his power to earn more time. When the opportunity came for a double lung transplant, he and Ramona relocated to Utah, where their children rotated as caregivers, surrounding him with the same love and support he had always given so freely. Following his transplant, Ron received not only new lungs, but also life-saving blood products to treat a blood cancer diagnosis.

Ron's organ donor was a 17-year-old young man named Jake, remembered for giving 110% in everything he did. Ron was much the same, and honored that gift by fighting for every extra day. In many ways, it felt fitting that Jake's gift carried forward in a man who had spent his life showing up in every role that was needed.

Because of organ, tissue, and blood donation, Ron's family was blessed with 458 additional days—days spent welcoming new great-grandbabies, celebrating milestones, sharing stories, and gathering every memory they could.

Ron will be remembered as a man who showed up, worked hard, served others, lived with adventure, and loved deeply—always giving 110% to his family, his faith, and anyone in need. He taught his children and grandchildren by example, and that example is evident in the hard work, service, and sense of adventure each descendant brings to their community.

In lieu of flowers, the family invites you to honor Ron by giving in ways that reflect how he lived. Ron never knew a "stranger." If you crossed his path, you were welcome at his table, and he believed deeply in caring for those in need—especially the unhoused in his community. Ron also believed in showing up in simple, consistent ways. He donated blood regularly—so consistently that he kept it on his calendar—because he understood the lives it saved. He had unique qualities that made him a highly valued donor, and he gave faithfully for many years. In his final chapter, those same life-saving donations were given back to him. If you feel inclined to give your time, talents, or resources, we suggest the following organizations that reflect causes close to Ron's heart:

Second Harvest – https://www.2ndharvest.org American Red Cross – https://www.redcross.org Donate Life America – https://www.donatelife.net NMDP (formerly Be The Match) – https://www.nmdp.org

Whether through a donation, registering to give, or simply showing up for someone in need, we invite you to carry forward the kind of life Ron lived—one where generosity was second nature, and helping others was simply what you did. Funeral Services

Funeral services for Ronald H Lundquist will be held on Saturday, May 2, at 1985 Black Cat Rd., Meridian, Idaho. A reception will begin at 10:00 a.m. to offer condolences to the family and share memories, followed by the funeral service at 11:00 a.m.

Ron will be interred with military honors at the Boise Veterans Cemetery.