Richard Nelson Cannon

Born and raised in Salt Lake City, Richard (Rick) Nelson Cannon possessed a sense of adventure, a deep curiosity about the world and its people, and an impish glint in his brown eyes. Even when his hair turned white, he remained full of life and strength. He passed away suddenly on July 4, 2025, a perfect last day for this patriotic man, while surrounded by the love of his family. He is preceded in death by his parents, John and Alice; his siblings, Elaine, John, Ruth, and Leonora. He is survived by his devoted wife, Ella-Rene, his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchild, his beloved siblings, Alice, Anne, and Joseph, and a lifetime of friends and loved ones.

Rick was the seventh of eight children of John Bennion and Alice Nelson Cannon. His childhood was a happy one, exploring Wasatch Hollow behind his home, teasing his siblings, and playing with his dog, Baron. He graduated from East High School, where he ran track and field and wrestled. He earned both his undergraduate and law degrees from the University of Utah. He also served a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to the Northwestern States Mission.

He married Sharron Taylor in 1962 and together they raised eight children: Dianna (Julie), Steve (Sarah), Melonie (James), Ginger, Katrina (Randy), Bradden (Sunny), Derran (Sarah), and Sean (Bryn). After his first marriage ended in divorce, he remained a dedicated father. In 1995, he married Ella-Rene Searle, gaining two more children, Tamara (Phil) and Charles, whom he loved as his own. They delighted in twenty-seven grandchildren and one great-granddaughter.

Rick was always in motion. He was strong and confident that his body would never fail him. Once he ran the SLC marathon and timed his run so he could jump on a parade float, put on a top hat, and pretend to be Abraham Lincoln. He loved to throw babies in the air as if they were pizza dough and balance them on the palm of his big hands.

His favorite place to be was anywhere outside to connect with nature. He jumped across the gap between the Gemini Bridges, backpacked throughout the West, found Jim Bridger’s cabin in the high Uintas, 4-wheeled to impossible places, finished multiple Senior triathlons, and built pillow nests on the roof so his children could watch fireworks. He especially loved the Weber Cabin -- where memories were made around the dinner table, campfires, card games, reading, hiking, feeding horses, fishing, laughter, and his incredible talent for storytelling. He taught discipline, hard work, value in learning, respect for differences, and how to work with your hands. He made it a point to check in on each of his children, no matter how widespread they were in the world.

Those who sat beside him knew the quiet comfort of his gentle, warm touch on your back, a simple expression of his kindness and love that made you feel safe and seen. He loved a good water fight, even if the hose was in the house or the neighbors called the police. He loved to wrestle in the living room, skip while holding hands, float you on his feet like an airplane, and play fox and geese (he was always the fox and we the screaming geese). In between all of his activities in motion, he could be found in quiet solitude, reading or playing solitaire. He enjoyed walking in the morning and watching the sunrise. There was a stillness and peace about him that we all loved, found in those quiet moments.

Laurie Anderson penned these lyrics: “When my father died, it was like a whole library burned down.” Those lyrics also describe Rick. He knew the names of all the birds, the minerals, the wildflowers, the mountain ranges, and the trees. He quizzed us at dinner on the State capitals, the Reader’s Digest word definitions, and loved to play 21 Questions. He was a master of Hide and Seek - specifically hiding small children in spaces where they shouldn’t have been able to fit.

He had a green thumb and relished fresh peas and the “sweet 100” cherry tomatoes from his garden. If you came to his home during gardening season, you would leave with a bag of the wonders he pulled from the ground. He loved to dance and took every opportunity to do so, even if there was no music. His children loved standing on his toes while he twirled them around. He would dance with his wife at every opportunity - even in grocery store aisles. Rick could sing, and he loved music, especially country and classical. He could draw and sculpt, but he spent his career as a lawyer helping many people. Sometimes he accepted payment for his legal work in the form of a quilt or the roof being tarred. He never learned to type. He wrote his legal briefs down in pencil on a yellow notepad.

Rick was serious on Christmas Eve because of his love of Jesus Christ, but he was a laughing prankster every other day of the year. You never knew when he would hide around a corner to scare you. He was a conservative who didn’t care for convention. A nudist who loved to dress in a three-piece suit and a Spartan who was happy to sleep on the ground in his army-issued mummy sleeping bag.

He did not believe that some people were better than others. He made friends with everyone. The number of homeless people he bought food for and the number of hitchhikers he picked up can’t be counted. Neither can the number of people he talked to everywhere he went - he was curious about everyone. He volunteered to serve people of the world with his wife, Ella-Rene, in the following missions: Sandy Bishop Storehouse; Mariupol, Moldova; Donetsk, Ukraine; Jinan, China; and Utah Orem. His faith was the foundation of his life and shaped how he loved and served those around him.

Rick didn’t care for the trappings of wealth. He did not believe happiness could be bought. He also had a temper, and you didn’t want to be on the other end of it, especially on the basketball court. He was fiercely competitive and once made his kids stay up into the wee hours playing Risk, just so he could conquer the world. There was always a puzzle on the table that you were welcome to join in on, as long as you didn’t mess up his perfectly organized pieces. He may be the last gentleman in the world who still carried a white cloth handkerchief, folded into layers, starched and ironed.

He loved the 4th of July, the Oakley Rodeo, homemade Root Beer, Oreos, Halston Z-14, and Banana Cream Pie. He never used a credit card and did not like cell phones. He tried to make it to every sports game, every musical, ceremony, and graduation. Considering he had so many family members, he did a great job being there for us.

He boasted for years that he would live to be 120 years old. He said his diagnosis of cancer wouldn’t kill him, and he would jump off Dead Horse Point before he would let that happen. Obviously, he had a strong flair for the dramatic. He said “I love you” to all of us, out loud.

He encouraged us to become whatever we wanted to be. Above all, he valued personal freedom. He will be remembered for his willingness for any adventure, hugs, laugh, gentle eyes, faith, love of creation, and deep gratitude for his family. He leaves behind a legacy of love, curiosity, faith, and mystery in the face of human complexity. We will miss him deeply, but are grateful for the love and light he shared so freely.

A viewing will be held on Thursday, July 24, 2025, from 6:00 to 8:00 PM at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 12830 South 2700 West, Riverton, Utah.  There will be an additional viewing on Friday, July 25, prior to services from 10:00 to 10:45 AM, with funeral services following at 11:00 AM—interment after service at Memorial Redwood Cemetery, 6500 South Redwood Road, West Jordan, Utah.