Leonard "Buddy" N. Thompson III

Leonard “Buddy” Newton Thompson III, age 76, passed away on February 7 at Ashton

Living Center in Ashton, Idaho, following a long, difficult journey with Frontotemporal

Degeneration. Buddy loved nothing better than to climb, ski and run in his beloved

Tetons, and shared his love for the mountains with old and new friends by taking them

climbing or hiking, singing and playing his guitar around the campfire, introducing many

people to the beauty and wonder of the mountains. Buddy enjoyed backcountry skiing in

the Tetons until he deemed it too crowded a few decades ago. He then discovered

skate skiing and never looked back. He is fondly remembered as a kind and patient

guide and mentor to many musicians and climbers in Jackson Hole and Teton Valley.

Buddy was born in St. Paul, MN, to Jewel and Leonard, the second oldest of 5 siblings.

He grew up in White Bear Lake, MN. Buddy played in a band in the Twin Cities, “The

Bear Town Rockets”, before moving to Jackson.

He attended the University of Minnesota. Buddy did climbing and canoeing expeditions

in Canada and the Yukon.

Buddy climbed the Grand Teton in 1970, the first of many Grand summits, and moved to

Jackson, WY in 1973. He later moved to Victor, Idaho in 1989. Buddy was the love of

Jackie’s life and she moved from Minnesota to love and live with him in 2007. He was a

luthier making beautifully inlaid and resonant guitars. Buddy was a musician with the

Stagecoach Band in Wilson, WY, and with the Bar- T- 5 Singin’ Cowboys for many years.

He loved playing and singing at weddings and special events, and especially loved

playing for guests at many of the beautiful dude ranches in the Jackson Hole valley.

Buddy had a great deal of compassion, and enjoyed volunteering to play and sing for

those with disabilities and dementia. He was a great reader, keenly interested in history,

philosophy, and classical literature. He wrote poetry.

For Buddy (written by Kelsey Hamilton, niece)

We called him the Mountain Man

He climbed where the Tetons touched the sky,

Skied bright winters drifting by.

With patient hands

And a quiet art,

He shaped guitars

With a craftsman’s heat.

One twelve-string he made for me,

It’s ringing chords still

Set him free.

So when the mountain

Winds begin

And somewhere a

Guitar sings again,

We know his spirit’s

Wandering through

The peaks he loved,

The skies so blue.

“It seems that Vince Gill’s “Go Rest High in That Mountain” was written for Buddy.

Lois Hamilton (sister)

Comments shared by his friends and colleagues say it best:

“What a wonderful guy...many great memories.”

“Buddy was such a great part of our community.”

“Buddy was a fixture at Teton Rock Gym for many years. He would often come in early

in the day when it was quiet, and I had lots and lots of great conversations with him. He

had a hilarious/wicked sense of humor. Buddy was smart and also introduced me to a

lot of great music. He loved climbing and skiing in the Tetons and was a strong outdoor

athlete.”

“Buddy, a quiet, humble, all-around good human. The community will be less without

him."

“Buddy. I loved when he would sing and play guitar at the campfire. Better singer and

better looking than John Denver.”

“Buddy always had something insightful and humorous to say. When he lived next door

in Moose, his guitar collection fascinated my kids, and he taught them to respect

musical instruments. It was always a treat to see and hear him on stage.”

Back in the day, I always enjoyed playing with Buddy at the Coach on Sundays! What a

strong and positive musical spirit he had! So sorry to hear.”

“I’ll always remember Buddy’s gentle demeanor, great presence, awesome guitar

playing and singing, and cool, casual, and strong climbing style.”

“Well, we knew Buddy had a blind spot and needed help pointing out skipped bolts...but

that never phased him... he didn’t have a blind spot for being a good friend. His

campfire music was just extra fun after a day of climbing.”

“A gentle soul and deep thinker who shared always.”

Buddy wrote this beautiful piece for his friend Heather following her death;

The sun is setting; the moon is rising through a pearl grey cloud. The wind is

whispering to me...or is it crying? What is this moment, what is this beauty that

confronts me? The dance of being...I, the necessary witness.

I felt a presence. I moved to the stream and put my hand in the water. The

murmuring, cold water reached into me and it said “This is the blood in my veins.” I

looked up at the moon as it sang through the sky and I heard it singing, “Month by

month I move through the sky, and this ancient rhythm is my heartbeat.” I felt the air

about me, “In the spring, when you touch the aspen, its green leaves fresh against

the blue sky of the mountains and you feel its life reaching out to gather the sun,

this is my life, it is your life and it was her life. It does not end and you are not what

you thought you were.”

You fell like a drop of water back to the ocean. Your death gave me this. Now I see

each creature’s returning. I see that the veil of life is thin over the planet. The veil is

thin, but the fountain is deep, going back to the consciousness of all things. Beauty,

the blood from the wound of the eternal moment, eternally being torn from itself,

forever leaving itself behind. Beauty, the tragedy and anguish of the world given

wings. And so my friend, I will not say farewell to you , I will say good night, and

when the sun rises tomorrow, I will reach out to the morning light and say good

morning to you. In time, I will, like you, without fear or regret, fall back to that ocean.

Buddy Thompson

Buddy was preceded in death by his father and mother. He is survived by his long-time

loving partner and caregiver, Jacquelyn Seguin, siblings Lois Hamilton (Bill), Terry,

Bruce (Margaret), and Robert (Michelle) and nieces and nephews, Robin, Kelsey,

Coleman, Justin and Christine.

In lieu of flowers, please consider donating to the Association for Frontotemporal

Degeneration (AFTD), 2700 Horizon Drive, Suite 120, King of Prussia, PA 19406, or

theaftd.org. - or, plant a tree.