Kevin Bruce Reinhold

With great sadness, we let Kevin’s body be free after an unexpected cardiac/respiratory event.

Kevin was born in Idaho Falls, Idaho, to Lynn and Delores (Russel) Reinhold. Kevin grew up with three sisters: Kathy (Jose) Gomez, Kim (Don) Green, and Kris (Cliff) Fletcher. He grew up surrounded by four strong, intellectual, and independent women.

He attended Idaho State University where he met many lifelong friends who shared to this day his love of fishing, skiing, hunting, hiking, camping, and rafting. He met his best friend, Merrill (Christy) Owens, who was his lifelong friend.

Kevin married Irene Utkin in 1977. They moved to Salmon, Idaho, and welcomed two wonderful sons, Jesse (Liz) and Dan (Sarah). The Salmon area was a good match for Kevin where he honed his white-water rafting skills, sharing his knowledge with friends and family throughout his life.

After his divorce, Kevin moved back to Idaho Falls. He worked as a drug and alcohol counselor before becoming a probation officer. Kevin always treated his clients with respect. Kevin retired in 2015.

Kevin met Deb Whittlesey in 1999 on a blind date. The first time they met, Deb opened the door and thought “Oh no, another old hippie.” They were married in 2000 and began an adventurous life together. They enjoyed camping, white-water rafting, snowmobiling, and especially motorcycling. Kevin loved traveling to the Oregon coast on his motorcycle. Unfortunately, he did not get one last motorcycle ride.

Their union brought three stepchildren, 14 grandchildren, and two great grandsons. We weren’t the normal doting grandparents, but love them all deeply.

Kevin was a dog lover (the dog whisperer). His last dog, Asher, who is Kevin’s doppelganger, is spoiled immensely and is still waiting for him to get home. Kevin thoroughly enjoyed his yard work, even though he always said there wasn’t enough time for work and play, but the yard always looked great.

Kevin, you leave a big hole in the lives of all who loved you, your laid back gentleness, dry sense of humor, and attempts to confuse people will be deeply missed.

Kevin leaves behind his stepfather, Arn (Faun) McMurtrey, along with all his friends and family. You made our world a better place, how does life go on?

In Memory of Kevin Reinhold

The ground around him was shadow-dappled, but he sat in the sunlight smiling, breathing the gold-tinted aspen air of October, the morning scent of sage mixing with smoky remnants of a campfire.

He was in no hurry to leave or to live; he took his time as time took him, absorbing the moment and becoming part of the shimmering creek, he was a master at memory making, at riding a river’s whitewater until it became a reason to reminisce, at hiking rocky ridges like a long-legged elk, fleeing nothing, but seeking the top.

The last time I saw him the ground was dappled and McDevitt Creek was crystal and he sat in his quiet unhurried way, enjoying a morning moment of another day while in my haste I hurried away.

I cannot now look at dappled ground without wishing I had taken a moment more to shake his hand harder in a longer goodbye, but I’ve learned from him to spend time right, to watch the shadows for patches of light.