Lee Jones

Oliver LeRoy “Lee” Jones, 80, of Lehi, Utah, passed away in his home on Sunday, January 8, 2023. Lee was born on January 20th, 1942 in Berkeley, California to Oliver Augustus “Sonny” Jones, Jr., and Fern Etta “Tin” Mitchell Jones.

Lee is survived by his wife of 57 years, Susanna Taylor Jones. Children; Christy Lee Jones Fender (Michael Julian Fender), Amy Louise Sumens, and Michael Thomas Jones. Grandchildren; Arianna Lee Mevs (Michael Mevs), Alexander Julian Fender, Miranda Kate Fender, Tanner Sumens, Brianna Taylor Sumens, Jacob Glenn Sumens, and Ethan Lee Sumens. Great-grandchildren; Jude Michael Mevs, Micah Julian Mevs, Luca Lee Mevs, and Jones Bobby Mevs.

Brothers; Robert (Sheila) Jones, Kevin Jones, Corey Jones. Sisters-in-law; Linda Taylor, Rozana (Gary) Wilkey. Brothers-in-law; Larry (Barbara) Taylor, Roger (Pam) Taylor, many nieces and nephews, and his beloved furry buddies, Bryce and Emma.

Lee is preceded in death by his parents, Oliver Augustus Jones, Jr. and Fern Etta Mitchell Jones, in-laws Ralph Alvin Taylor and Marcia Checketts Taylor, and infant son, Brian LeRoy Jones.

Funeral services will be held Friday, January 13th at Valley View Funeral Home: 4335 W. 4100 S. West Valley City, Utah. Visitation at 11:00 a.m. Funeral services begin at 12:00 p.m.

In lieu of flowers, please consider donating to the Huntsman Cancer Center or Alzheimer’s Association.

Obituary/Eulogy

Dad’s life of exploration -- and some precarious adventures -- began in the Northern California village of Hercules, a community for employees of Hercules Powder, an explosives plant.

Lee decided kindergarten was most certainly not for him. His mother would repeatedly drop him off, and by the time she returned, he would innocently greet her on the front step of the family home. During this time, World War II was raging. The plant was nearby and guarded. During one of his unexcused walkabouts, Dad sauntered on over to his father’s workplace. Because of his short stature, the sentry at the front counter was unable to see the little red-headed tyke. Dad scooted right on past and arrived, unannounced, at his father’s office.

At a bit older age, Lee’s family moved to the nearby town of Pinole. His foray into raucous curiosity was launched when he and a friend happened upon a grenade and wound up inadvertently decimating the back porch.

Dad spoke very fondly of those early days, the scent of eucalyptus and playing in the fog.

At around age eight, the Joneses returned to Utah and Bacchus Village, a tightly knit company town owned by the nearby Hercules plant, nestled in the foothills of the northern Oquirrh Mountains of Salt Lake County. They settled into the same home in which Dad’s father had been raised.

As the oldest of four highly intelligent brothers, and one equally intrepid father, escapades into rocketry, tinkering, and generally continuing to blow things up, were legendary.

Dad met our mother through a date arranged by a mutual friend who told each that the other was interested in them. This was untrue. However, the magic took hold and with their marriage on September 3rd, 1965, our family began.

Time spent visiting the canyons, deserts and local cultural events shaped our impressions of nature, history, and our world views. In later years, we kids developed the preemptive phrase, “Dad, in twenty words or less, tell us what – fill in the blank – is/means/does/etc.”

The Lee Jones yard and gardens were always well cared for and enjoyed by his children and grandchildren. Dad wore face masks decades before they became a norm – fending off allergy attacks while mowing the lawn.

His frequent use of garden variety curse words was eloquent, and sometimes quite frequent. A trait we, his successors, may or may not have passed down to future generations.

Another lasting heirloom is that of the “Jones Outfit.” Dad’s flippant choice of comfy clothing worn simultaneously –regardless of a startling combination of colors, patterns, seasons, etc., has been embraced by nearly all of us – and stings the eyes of a few.

Airplanes were always an obsession of Lee’s. He obtained his private pilot’s license, attended air shows, a Space Shuttle launch and regularly rode shotgun with his two other pilot brothers. Childhood dinners at our home in Bennion, Utah were often quite hushed while Dad identified, purely by sound, the type of aircraft approaching the Salt Lake City Airport on the nearby overhead flight path.

Lee often perused the countryside on his yellow, ten-speed Schwinn bicycle. Sometimes joyriding along with his children. Physical activity came in other forms such as hiking, spelunking and hitting the gym after work. We kids enjoyed licking the salt off of our hands after a day sailing with Dad on the Great Salt Lake.

Dad worked for Mountain Bell (US West, Qwest) for many years – beginning by maintaining the trucking fleet, moving up, quite literally, to climbing telephone poles as a lineman, and descending into subterranean streets as a cable splicer, before finishing as a design engineer, typically at a desk but often in the field, plotting out and calculating for projected complicated cable/phone lines for the burgeoning town of Park City, Utah.

At age 49, he underwent surgery for prostate cancer. Not long afterward a stroke took from him parts of his brain necessary for such intricate professional work – along with necessary everyday skills, forcing an early retirement.

Dad worked incessantly to regain and maintain as much intellectual and neurological function as possible. Sudoku, crossword, and a vast variety of other books continued to build throughout his life. Tai Chi, Yoga, and meditation lent itself to pursuits in wood carving, stained glass creation, and other hobbies. He donated hours at the library, shelving books in an effort to regain number recognition.

Mom and Dad moved to St. George, Utah for a warmer climate and slower way of life. Here, Dad volunteered for the Bureau of Land Management for 27 years, guarding and patrolling ancient Native American sites and participating in archeological digs in the still, red cliff canyons and vast deserts of the region. It is in nature and landscape that Dad’s spirituality lay. His absolute respect and reverence for both earthly and heavenly creation was where his soul resonated. A trait passed down to generations.

In 2005, a terrifying “100 year flood” of the Santa Clara River, which normally ambled lazily by in the river bottom directly behind the house, literally came clawing at the back door. The violent and rapid erosion of red soil no longer meant a pleasant walk amongst the cottonwoods and tamarisk of the creek bottom, formerly a football stadium’s length from the same back door just days earlier. In its place was now a direct and sudden drop of 18 feet. Homes a short two and three lots away were completely obliterated and carried away by the raging water. After this, they built and moved into a second home in St. George and remained there until purchasing a summer townhome in Lehi, Utah in 2010 before eventually selling their St. George home and northern Utah townhome in 2019 to permanently consolidate into a larger home, still in Lehi, in the summer of 2019. Homes in Lehi allowed more interaction with their children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren.

Mom saw to it that she and Dad traveled the world, missing only the continents of Australia, Africa, and Antarctica. As an avid photographer, Dad captured stunning images all along the way – often being the last to board the tour bus. (Insert Mom cursing here).

We would like to lovingly acknowledge our mother, Susanna, for her devoted, and sometimes extraordinarily difficult, care of our father over the past thirty-one years - most especially during the past eleven years of heart-wrenching Alzheimer’s disease. We love you Mom and most gratefully see all you have sacrificed.

Dad leaves us with the knowledge of his love, clad in his plaid flannel shirt and jeans, his Indiana Jones hat, covered in the red desert dirt and faded by the sun of a thousand adventures.

Goodnight Dad. We expect a playful and angelic swat on the butt on the way out. Most importantly, we keep in mind your words as we left the house in our youth, “Remember, you represent the Jones Family.”

"I’m left-handed" - Lee Jones