Our father, Lonnie Dean Bones, the son of Harold and Beverly Bones was born on January 28, 1949, and died peacefully on November 6, 2021 due to complications from Covid. He is survived by his three children Yalonda Yo, Chad and Jesse Bones. His sisters Diane, Donna, brother Larry and his wife Roxanna. Grandchildren living all over the world and loving nieces and nephews too numerous to name.
In 1976 Dad packed up our little family of four in an old pickup packed to the wooden side walls with all of their worldly possessions. Driving from Kansas to Aspen, Colorado over a high mountain pass … and god only knows how we made it in that old truck.
It was at the bottom of that pass called Independence that dad, well we all, ages 2 and 4 to parents in their early twenties fell in love with the Rocky Mountains and what we the freedom to be you of the Wild West.
There wasn’t much that he enjoyed more than taking us on hikes to whittle a stick on Hunter Creek or barefoot waterskiing in the too cold for this time of year high mountain lakes. Always and most of the time throwing philosophical guidance out there inspired by the bluebird sky or a ragged mountain for us kids to catch on to and banter with him in a way beyond our years.
A barber through a long line of family barbers coming from Ottawa, in 1992 after a couple of back and forth stints from Aspen to Kansas and back again, dad opened an old school barbershop at the end of one of America’s most charming fly fishing small town streets in Basalt, Colorado. A small old cabin of sorts with fading Egg Rolls and Hamburgers written on the side of the building hinting at a time years in the past but a sly smile and nod to his love affair of greasy food.
That was dad, content to cut the fat and the hair of good people, from the poor in the pocket rich in hearts construction workers and ranch managers to the some of the most profound and powerful minds in sports, film and real estate. We think that there may have been more wiggling children to come out of his barber chair full of patience with their first haircut and tear stained faces than most any other barber in the country or at this high neck of the woods. Nearly thirty years passed with dad driving up that short Main Street to that small barber shack. Standing behind his chair telling stories that may or may not be researched and found to be true. Beauty of it was, everyone knew and no one cared because Dad loved to tell stories full of characters and those sitting in his chair came back again and again because he was a good and harmless character full of life.
There are no words, that’s saying a lot for three children with deep pockets full of plain and simple words and expression after being raised by a man like Dad; just welling tears over the love and support that we have received by so many of you who knew or knew of him from Ottawa to Aspen and around the world.
Dad, we love you and we miss you and promise to walk and talk about your legacy of telling stories of good character to good characters.
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