Jonathan David Yates

What to write when someone dies? How to convey what people know, don't know, and want to know about this person? How to make a bundle of all of the things that make up a life and toss it over to others in the belief that this will help them understand who he was? Our understanding of other people is partly focused by who we ourselves are. When Jon died, I conjured up my own experiences and memories of him and felt that, as his little sister, I knew him pretty well. But then I started hearing other people's stories about him, and I realized that there's a lot I didn't know. He what?? Really? When?? Why?? With who?? I didn't know that! Lots of surprises, but at the same time, plenty of agreement on parts of who Jon was.

The biographical details are simple: Jon Yates died on January 6, 2025, at the age of 71, after dealing with colon cancer. He was born in Atlantic City, NJ, the third son of Howard and Susan Yates. He grew up with his brother Dick and sister Sally in Tanguy Homesteads, an intentional community near West Chester, PA. He eventually migrated to the Ithaca, NY, area and spent most of his life there.

As for who Jon really was, how to pin that down? What I remember about Jon as a child is that there always seemed to be something--balls, frisbees, beanbags--flying in the air between him and his older brother, Dick. From an early age, Jon was an excellent athlete, and sports played a large part in his life. He followed the pro teams and maybe thought he might join their ranks someday. Both he and Dick played local Little League Baseball, go Tigers! Dick remembers spending time with Jon at the basement workbench, learning from Dad how to use tools. He was an avid reader and he liked trucks and sledgehammers.

In high school, he developed his own ideas about life. He was one of a group of boys who defied the school's dress code by refusing to cut their long hair, which led to the eventual abolition of dress codes in the area. Jon also helped establish a drop-in center for teenagers and their families who were struggling with drug addiction and related challenges. He developed a healthy mistrust of authority around this time and that stuck with him throughout his life.

When he left school, Mom and Dad supported his need to go his own way. Jon turned his considerable energy to learning as much as he could, often working alongside older mentors who taught him about tree work, woodworking, construction, mechanics, farming, masonry, electrical wiring, metalworking, and anything else he needed to pick up. Later, he in turn mentored younger friends and passed on his skills and his passion for excellence in everything he did. Jon was always doing research to acquire knowledge that he could apply to his own life and pass on to others, something he did with great relish and occasionally with great (and obvious!) patience.

Jon then shuttled back and forth between New York and Pennsylvania for a while, doing whatever jobs he found, such as tree work. In the late 70s, he moved more permanently to the Ithaca area after he joined David Burke and a gang of other Tanguy members to work on renovating a building on the Ithaca Commons that became a clothing store, Isle of You. When the Isle of You project was finished, Jon went across the Commons to work on another store, Heart's Content, for the Brous & Mehaffey family of businesses. That was the beginning of his life in upstate New York and a life-long friendship with Mimi Mehaffey.

He remained in the area after that, except for a sojourn in California to work on a house on the estate of a vineyard in Napa Valley and a cross-country trip on a search for land to build a community on. He didn't find the perfect location on that trip, so he returned to Ithaca and continued where he had left off, building, making, repairing, advising, and learning, always learning, going from one creative job to the next, and learning all the time. For many years, his red truck with the big wooden barrel that he built onto the back of it was a common sight around the greater Ithaca area as he went about his business. Jon built, refurbished, and repaired houses and businesses, with fellow builder David Burke and on his own, and with various stalwart and talented crew members.

He then did extensive remodeling work in the various stores of the Brous & Mehaffey family. Mimi had a dream, beyond those business projects, of building an off-grid solar home, and Jon was eager to build a home entirely of his own design. Not only did he live on the land and build a stunning home, but he also created a space that welcomed everyone who spent time there. Jon had a unique ability to connect with children and young adults. Whether it was coming up with creative (and extreme) activities, or teaching them practical skills, he always treated them as equals. He recognized their strength and capability and patiently ensured they understood the work they were doing. As they grew older, Jon hired them to work on the house with him. It was always just him and a crew of teenagers, working together, learning together, and teaching each other. Thanks to Jon, a lot of those kids have their own construction, electrical, and architectural companies and careers now. They often came back to sit with Jon by the wood stove, borrow his tools, and ask his advice.

Jon was an independent spirit who often went his own way, having hermit tendencies, yet he could find time and energy to help with projects and dreams and to rescue people in construction peril. He was a master craftsman, and excellence was paramount for him. He was satisfied with only the best materials and techniques. Jon also cared deeply about the environment and always tried to build to enhance and protect it whenever possible, always researching the least damaging materials, the most efficient techniques. Anyone living in a Jon Yates house today is lucky to be surrounded by his artistry and workmanship in a home that will stand solidly for many decades to come.

People who knew Jon Yates know that he had a certain presence of being: when he walked into a room, you noticed him. Big, tall, strong, confident, but thoughtful. And he was the one you wanted to see coming when your plumbing went bad or your car wouldn't start or anything else went wrong, or you just wanted to shoot the breeze, knowing you'd get a well-informed opinion about any topic that came up, when he was in the mood. He radiated assurance that any problem could be solved, given the time and the tools.

So far, he sounds like 100% hero, but of course he had less-than-easy traits, too,. He was usually stoic, but occasionally volcanic, as some reading this will know. He had his curmudgeonly moments and was known to smash a fist through newly-erected drywall if something hadn't been done right. He was quite sure that he knew the best way to do everything and let you know it. He didn't hang on long to relationships--when he was finished with one project and its associated group of people, he'd move on to the next job without much of a backward look, which could be disconcerting for those he left behind. He could be critical, and the maddening thing was that very often his criticism was all too accurate!

Who was he? All that reservoir of knowledge and being that he carried around with him is gone forever with his departure. But he leaves clues behind him, a string of beautiful and unique Jon-made objects: magic wooden music boxes, a polished cedar root, a big black walnut desk with a secret compartment, a polished bank of mailboxes, satiny wooden tranquilizer balls, lots of wooden slab coffee tables, a cedar sewing box, a small black walnut table to hold a fern, cutting boards, a three-trunked side table and a golden stool made of osage orange, a shiny wooden ball with a thumb-sized hole in it...small intimate objects we can still hold in our hands and marvel at the life in the wood, the smoothness of the grain, and think of Jon the Craftsman.

And Jon the Builder built larger things that still hold us...houses and all the rooms they enclose, eateries, a café paved with nickels, barns, cabins, garages, storage and garden sheds, outhouses, treehouses, playgrounds with slides, seesaws, and swings, ball fields, a sauna, follies, arbors, and gazebos...

People went to Jon with their dreams and he wrapped them and their lives in structures built with grace and strength, working through a seemingly impossibly complex series of decisions and actions that turned their dreams into reality.

Does all of that describe who Jon was? It's my view of him, anyway. Whatever the multitude of many-faceted perceptions held by each of us who knew him, now there's a Jon-shaped hole in the universe that will never be filled again. He'll be kept alive, though, through the stories that we all tell about him, all of us together, each with our own Jon Yates stories that reveal who he was for each of us, a shifting collection that makes a living whole.

Jon is survived by his older brother, Richard Yates and his wife, Nadene LeCheminant, of Salem, OR; his younger sister, Sally Yates, of Trumansburg, NY; numerous Wanagel cousins on both the East and West Coasts; cousins Debbie Lazar of New York, NY, and Linda Cheney of Rio Vista, CA, and their families, as well as his “found family” from Ithaca, NY: Mimi (Ned), Lindsey (Adam), Chelsea (Aren), Miles, Conor, (Kaylee), Han (Josey), and Ailbhe.

Jon's ashes will be buried in a very informal gathering at Greensprings Natural Cemetery Preserve in Newfield, NY, on June 21, 2025 at 2:00 p.m. All are welcome to come to say farewell.

After the burial, the house that Jon built for Mimi, at 115 W. Enfield Center Rd., Enfield, NY, will be open for anyone who wants to see the wonders there and to continue the celebration of Jon Yates.

Please note that Greensprings is a natural cemetery. The terrain is a bit rough and the weather can be a bit intense due to the higher elevation, so dress accordingly.