Craig Allen Ream

1944 - 2025

Craig Allen Ream - the man, the myth, the legend - made his final, grand exit from this mortal realm on September 27, 2025. He was 81, an age he frankly never expected to reach, having fully intended to skid into the afterlife at a much higher speed.

Craig didn't just live life; he grabbed it by the handfuls. He lived by the motto he proudly displayed on the fridge: "Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting... 'holy shit...what a ride!'" For those who knew him, this was less a quote and more an accurate biography.

Born in Torrance, California, his rebellious spirit emerged early, with tales of watching Disneyland being built and promptly figuring out how to sneak in. This set the stage for a lifetime of adventure. As the son of a military family, he moved from South Dakota to Louisiana, New York to Mississippi, mastering the art of making friends quickly-a skill he used to charm, debate, and connect with everyone he met for the rest of his life.

In 1963, at 19, he was "coerced" into the Navy, where he quickly discovered a profound distaste for being told what to do. He served with honor through four tours in Vietnam before returning to embrace the wild car culture of 60s California, always with a beautiful car and building his first motorcycle in 1969.

He found his true home in Washington in 1972, arriving to a now-famous billboard that read, "Will the last person leaving Seattle - Turn out the Lights." Craig saw this not as a warning, but a welcome. There, he found his calling as an alcoholism counselor, a role where his fierce honesty and deep compassion had a lasting impact on all who crossed his path.

Then came the good part. He fell, hard and forever, for his wife, Janelle. They were a match made in heaven, or perhaps the open highway-never happier than when flying side-by-side, handlebar-to-handlebar on their motorcycles. His daily goal was to make Janelle laugh, a goal he achieved with stunning frequency, even if she never quite got his jokes. He was her cheerleader, her champion, and the love of her life.

Craig was a paradox in the best way: a man who felt most at home on a motorcycle at 100 mph was also a dedicated homebody. He was the creative force behind their cozy home, designing and decorating to ensure everyone who walked in felt welcome. A fireplace was non-negotiable, and candles were his signature-he made them, bought them, and burned them constantly.

He was generously, sometimes stubbornly, himself. Craig never met an argument he didn't like and was world-renowned for not holding back his opinion. Yet, he possessed the rare gift of making you feel like you were the most important person in the room, capable of coaxing a smile from you even when you wanted to stay mad.

He had a soft heart reserved for dogs, children, and, in his later years, crafting unique cards and gifts for his grandchildren. He was the quintessential cool uncle-the one who taught you to drive a stick shift and let you watch the "bad" movies.

He despised loud mouths, know-it-alls, and bullies. He loved cookies, Mountain Dew, a good cribbage game, and The Dollar Store (he considered paying full price a personal failure).

Craig lived life unequivocally on his own terms and worked every day to conquer his demons. He loved deeply and the friends that knew him best understood his complexity. For that he was forever grateful.

The truth is, all people die, but not all people live. Craig lived. He will be profoundly and sorely missed.

He is survived by his wife of 30 years, Janelle Fiorito-Ream; his children Rick Ream, Shay Murray, Danielle Fiorito-Grzesiuk, and Alan Luxmore; and his grandchildren Quaid Ream, Otis and Ocean Grzesiuk, Archer Luxmore, Killian, and Brennan Murray.

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A celebration of Craig's life will be held at a later date.

For information, please contact Janelle at: reamjanelle@gmail.com

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