Michael Lawrence Bradnan

If you knew Mike Bradnan, you probably called him "Uncle." Even if you weren't related. He had that kind of presenceâ€"warm, funny, and always ready with a story, a suggestion, a salami sandwich, or a reminder to check your oil. Mike passed away peacefully on November 6, 2025, just 28 minutes before his 95th birthday. In classic Mike style, he never missed a deadline or was late to a meeting, saying, "Early is on time. On time is late." So, true to form, he made his exit comfortably ahead of schedule. Born in Cleveland, Ohio, Mike was the oldest of five kids in a household full of love, laughter, and sauerkraut & kielbasa. He graduated high school in 1949 with what he proudly called a "heroic C-minus" average, then went on to live a life that earned him straight A's in character, kindness, and perseverance. Mike enlisted in the U.S. Air Force during the Korean War and worked as a camera technician on bomber aircraft. A self-proclaimed "devout coward," he chose to fight behind the lens rather than the front line. He loved to tell his Korea stories, including the one about what happened when his father sent him a whole salami. It arrived covered in mold that he simply washed off, perhaps prompting an immune system responsible for his long, healthy life. After the war, Mike settled in Tucson, Arizona, and found his calling after taking a job as a bill collector for a restaurant equipment dealer. He loved the restaurant industry and rose to the rank of running the dealership, complete with millwork and stainless steel fabrication divisions, for twenty-plus years. In 1977, he struck out on his own, hung up his foodservice consultant's shingle and founded Michael L. Bradnan & Associates, Ltd. Mike designed commercial kitchens for independent restaurants, schools, hospitals, restaurant chainsâ€"anything with a commercial kitchen. He loved what he didâ€"so much that he didn't retire until age 89. Why then? "I didn't want to drop dead in the middle of a project and leave the customer, my client, hanging." While on a project in Cedar Rapids, he met Melinda White and single handedly orchestrated their love story. His never-give-up attitude came into play, with weekly flower deliveries and a card simply signed, "Your almost friend." His tenacity culminated in a very happy and loving 38-year marriage. She became the "associate" in MLB & Associates, and they worked side by side until their retirement. Mike was a loyal fixture at his niece and nephews' sporting events, always wearing his feathered cowboy hat and toting extra water, just in case. He told stories like a proâ€"especially the salami oneâ€"and dropped "Mike-isms," too many to list, like confetti. A family favorite when the weather was bad: "It's gonna be a bitch out there." And it will be repeated often in honor of Uncle. For many years, Mike taught dog obedience classes, served as president of the Tucson Humane Society and chaired the Zoological Society in Tucson. Professionally, he was a member of the Foodservice Consultants Society International and the Construction Specifications Institute. Mike is survived by his wife, Melinda, of Cedar Rapids; siblings Jerry (Carol) Bradnan, Marcia (Ed) Toth, Cindy (Dan) Babroski, and Janie (Dave) Muhek; sisters-in-law Lynette (Steve) Etzel and Josie (Matthew) Sylte; brother-in-law Jeff (Jeni) White; and his cherished nephews and a niece: Ryan Etzel, Jonathan and David Muhek, Jonah, Lydia, and Levi Heskje and Henrik and Eric Sylte. He was preceded in death by his parents, Michael and Marion Bradnan. Per Mike's wishes, no services are planned. Instead, Mike would suggest you feed the birds, check your oil, pet your dog, and call someone you love to warn of impending bad weather. But if you're feeling generous, memorials may be directed to the Tunnel to Towers Foundation, a nonprofit that provides homes to injured veterans and first responders, or to St. Jude Children's Research Hospital. Online condolences may be made to Mike's family at www.cedarmemorial.com. The family extends heartfelt thanks to the compassionate staff at Hall-Perrine Cancer Center, Mercy Hospital ICU, and the Dennis & Donna Oldorf Hospice House of Mercy. As Mike, the ol' Slovak from Cleveland, would say with a wink and a smile: "Ciao, baby!"