“Larger than life,” a phrase that follows Ross Gruenwald even still. During the afternoon of Feb. 8, 2024, Ross had a major heart attack. The damage was extensive and two days later, he passed peacefully in the company of family. He was fifty nine years old, and is survived by wife, Toni Gruenwald and daughter, Gabby Allen.

Though you’d almost only ever see him in a flat top, tilted up in the back and down in the front, as earned by his time as a buckaroo, he wore many hats. He was also a saddle maker, trapper, tracker, cop, hunter, traditional archer, musician, storyteller, craftsman, foreman, artist, gardener, survivalist, fly fisherman, Harley enthusiast, husband, father, and grandfather.

Ross grew up in rural Canada, a small but scrappy red-head continually getting into trouble with his teachers and fights with his peers. He spent many days in the wilderness and found himself unofficially adopted by the Chilcotin natives where he collected many stories, and many skills.

Wanting to return to his birth country, he left his childhood home at around sixteen years old with $100 for the border crossing to America, his saddle, and very humble supplies. He was cold, he was hungry, but he made it. 

He lived a nomadic lifestyle for a time, cowboying and buckarooing, making a reputation for himself in a job where the conditions are harsh and the standards are high. He’d always say, “if the cowboss was yelling and cussing at you, it meant he thought you were worth a $#@!.”

He later built a successful saddle shop proving himself as both a craftsman and a businessman. He supported his family and made sure they were never cold and hungry.

Having worked harder than most can even imagine, he retired early. He completely renovated a home for him and his wife, making a run down property into a dazzling display of his many skills. He then spent the last few years of his life putting miles on his dream Harley, fly fishing, puttering in his shop, and telling many of the stories he’d collected. He made spaces where people gathered and was visited by an assortment of people. “If you build it they will come,” he’d often say.

Ross was given very little to work with in his life, but he made do, and built something grand. That’s what Ross did; made something out of nothing. He threw his whole self into life, and though his passing was early, he did enough living to fill the lifespan of many men. It’s an understatement to say he was a life well lived.

The following is a poem Ross favored, and did his best to live by:

“So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart. Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their view,and demand that they respect yours. Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life. Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people.

Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide. Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend,even a stranger, when in a lonely place. Show respect to all people and grovel to none. When you arise in the morning give thanks for the food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself. Abuse no one and no thing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision.

When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.” -Chief Tecumseh

Ross didn’t get a chance to sing his death song, so it will be sung for him.