Ron Spinney finally stopped telling us what to do on November 7, 2025, after a long, complicated, but ultimately meaningful life. He was born on June 26, 1955, and raised in Pinole, California, alongside his four older sisters. He played golf in high school and was an active member of DeMolay.
Ron was preceded in death by his parents, Bob and Virginia Spinney. He leaves behind his devoted wife of 32 years, Sandi, and six children: Ron Meeks (Warren), Amy Waters (Neil), Sara Lawrence (Chris), Emily Cochrane (Patrick), Randi Trudelle (Kyle), and Chris Lantz (Toni). He was also the proud grandfather of Brittany; Kaylee and Clayton Lawrence; Sam and Elle Waters; Caleb and Matthew Cochrane; and Titus and Athena Trudelle — even if he sometimes mixed up their names.
Ron loved Harley motorcycles, drag boat racing, camping, working on cars, woodworking, and tackling home and yard projects that always seemed to require "just one more trip to the hardware store." Known as "Sure Man" to his motorcycle friends, he was always up for a sunshine ride ending with delicious food and a cold beer. Professionally, he worked in the oil field and as a general contractor, building, fixing, and improving things — often with more confidence than any instruction manual called for.
He had a surprisingly deep appreciation for good food and perfectly cut vegetables (a strangely specific skill he passed down genetically). He could turn a simple task into a project and a five-minute story into a half-hour detour. He was capable, opinionated, and endearingly particular about how things should be done. He passed down knowledge about mechanics and construction to anyone willing to listen, and it was often said he gave away more labor than he ever collected on.
Ron's life wasn't without its challenges. Relationships were complicated, and there were years of distance. But in time, he found his way back — to faith, to family, and to a quieter kind of peace. He was baptized later in life and was proud to have reconnected with all of his adult children. They didn't talk every day, but they shared birthdays, holidays, stories, and laughter that mattered more than the years in between.
For all his stubbornness and rough edges, Ron had a generous heart and a willingness to own his mistakes. He taught us that it's never too late to say you're sorry, never too late to believe, and never too late to try again.
He'll be remembered for his humor, his handiwork, those precise vegetable cuts, and the reminder that redemption doesn't have an expiration date.