Neal Linnihan

Neal Joseph Linnihan began in New Richland, Minnesota, on a small farm. He arrived to John Ambrose Linnihan and Alice Leone Jewison as the caboose on a long, lively train, sharpened, and shamelessly adored by his remarkable siblings: Colette, Maureen, Connie, Terry, and Dick.

From the jump, Neal treated life like a contest he intended to win and a story he intended to improve in the retelling. He memorized encyclopedias for sport and accents for mischief. He wrestled pigs in the mud before class and got straight A’s in a clean shirt. He made 60-yard spirals look easy, dunked basketballs on fellow farm kids, won state, graduated as valedictorian and class clown, and fell in love at first sight with an equally remarkable woman. He started a successful advertising agency from stubbornness and charm with his pal Sean Foy, raised not one, not two, but four sons on equal parts purpose and punchlines, coached them for twenty years, and learned the dark art of tying cleats that refuse to be tied. He started a band that went farther than reason said it should, and he loved Michelle every single day, as steady as the sunrise.

Neal always traveled with equal parts generosity and competence. He could fix a mean breakfast, a boring Saturday, and a bad mood, often in that order. He was unembarrassed by wonder. A good song could stop him. A better joke could, too. He amazed every person he met, often with a funny accent or an obscure piece of trivia, and always with a big heart.

He is survived by his rock and great love, Michelle Franzen Linnihan, their sons Dan (Amy), Conor (Anna), Grady (Kelsey), and Gavin (Angela) each carrying some combination of their father’s magic, his lovely in-laws Lyle, Craig, and Deb, and his exceptional nieces and nephews. He is preceded in death by his parents and brother-in-law, Lee Vickerman.

Neal and pancreatic cancer went twelve hard rounds. Call it a draw, because that’s the truest thing and the funniest, and Neal always liked where those two met. If you gave him a rematch, he’d lace them up tomorrow. That was his style: one more try, one more game of 500, one more song for the road. He was 66.

In lieu of flowers, do something generous and slightly unreasonable in his honor. Learn a song and play it a little too loud. Better yet, memorize a fact you don’t need and deploy it at the exact right moment. And always try to put a smile on someone's face. Neal would have.

Oh, do everything in your power to help the Vikes win a Super Bowl dammit. 

All who knew Neal are welcome to join us for his celebration of life at Dellwood Hills Country Club on October 19th, from 2-5 PM.