Commander John Robert Beemer

In Loving Memory of John Robert Beemer

May 31, 1945 – September 7, 2025

John Robert Beemer, beloved husband, father, veteran, pilot, and friend, passed away peacefully on September 7, 2025, surrounded by family. He was a man of adventure, loyalty, and laughter—larger than life and deeply loved by all who knew him.

 

John proudly served in the United States Navy for 27 years, flying A-7s and retiring with the rank of Commander. He served in the Vietnam War, and his promotion to Commander was a proud moment made even more special by having his own father by his side and his daughter Jessica reveal his ribbons. Before taking to the skies professionally, John was a long-haul truck driver, often driving cross-country between active-duty assignments—a testament to his tireless work ethic and love for the open road. 

 

His father instilled in him the value of hard work and never taking the easy way out. As a young man, John held various jobs—from delivering newspapers to digging holes for electrical poles. That latter job unexpectedly launched his bilingual journey, as he learned Spanish on the job and carried that skill with him throughout his life. People were often surprised when a salt-and-pepper (later bright white) haired, green-eyed man would effortlessly switch to Spanish in conversation. He cherished the ability to connect with others and extended that respect to other cultures as well, learning greetings in different languages to honor the owner of his favorite newspaper spot. For John, it was always about respect and attention to detail. After his military service, John continued his passion for flight as a commercial pilot with Continental Airlines, where he flew 737s for many years.

 

He met the love of his life at the Officer’s Club at Chase Field in Beeville, Texas, and together they shared 53 years of unforgettable memories—48 of them as husband and wife. From coast to coast, they traveled the country, collecting stories, laughter, and lifelong friendships. Whether it was barking spiders in a Virginia City restaurant, being chased by bears in Mt. Rose, or breaking a finger sledding during Spring Break with the kids, John brought joy, grit, and a sense of adventure to every moment.

 

John was a deeply devoted husband. He never missed a chance to show his love for Mary Frances, regularly bringing her flowers and her favorite sweet treats. He delighted in spoiling her and often left handwritten love notes for her to find—by her bedside, on a side table, or in the kitchen—so she’d start her day with a smile and a reminder of his love. When Mary Frances once got her car stuck in the sand on base in a restricted zone, it was the Military Police who called John to come rescue her before things got serious. He showed up, no questions asked, with a hearty laugh and most likely a kiss on the head. That was John: dependable, lighthearted, and full of love.

 

He was a proud member of Sigma Nu fraternity, just like his father before him. The bonds he formed with his fraternity brothers were lifelong and deeply meaningful. He often spoke fondly of the Crumley dinner and the camaraderie shared there—an extension of his family and a reflection of the loyalty and friendship he valued so deeply. One fraternity brother recalled, “My best recollection was how he was always so friendly to me as a lowly freshman when he was a senior. Very handsome young man who was popular in the Sigma Nu Fraternity and on campus. I will treasure my memories of him.” That kindness—offered without expectation—was a hallmark of John’s character. Whether you were a lifelong friend or a freshman just finding your way, John made you feel seen, valued, and welcome.

 

In his younger days, John could challenge anyone to a game of racquetball. He played at least three times a week and always came home with hilarious stories from the gym. His kids would run around the house wearing his sweatbands, soaking in the fun. Later in life, he got his workouts in with his buddies Renzo and Ralph (who has since passed) through water aerobics. The slower pace didn’t slow down the stories or the pranks—John loved to joke about trying to hold Renzo underwater during drills just because the waves were higher and Renzo was a smidge shorter. It was all in good fun, and they always wrapped up their workouts with breakfast at the local Denny’s, a tradition John cherished deeply.

 

John was the kind of man you could always count on—whether it was getting a Suburban and trailer unstuck in the salt flats, making perfect pigtails for his daughter before he departed for Navy Drill, or helping his son build the fastest Pinewood Derby car in the cub scout pack. He lived by the 7 Ps: Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance—a motto he instilled in his children and lived by every day.

 

He was the coach of his children’s little league teams, the loudest cheerleader in the stands at Jessica’s volleyball games, and the proud owner of a season pass—complete with noisemakers—for Jonathan’s football games, cheering from the 50-yard line in style. He made sure his kids were prepared for life, teaching Jessica how to change her tires and even swap out her brakes. Jonathan wasn’t far behind in the garage, and those early lessons led him to a career as an aviation mechanic for Southwest Airlines—a profession John was incredibly proud of.

 

John was the king of sleepovers, the maker of legendary banana pancakes, and the reason his home was always filled with laughter, video games, foosball, and friends. He loved being surrounded by people and never met a stranger. His pranks were the stuff of legend—from blowing up a footbridge with a buddy’s monogrammed alarm clock (we won’t name names) back in high school to pigeon shenanigans at the Delta Gamma house and matchmaking declarations in crowded bars.

 

In his later years, he found joy in the simple routines—chatting with the pharmacy gals at H-E-B and swapping stories with the crew at Panera. He was a storyteller, a jokester, a protector, and a provider. Most of all, he was deeply loved.

 

John is survived by his devoted wife, Mary Frances Beemer; his children Jessica Beemer and Jonathan Beemer; Jessica’s partner Jonathan Jannatifar; Jonathan’s partner Shaylyn Hobbs; and a lifetime of friends who became family. His legacy lives on in the laughter he inspired, the lessons he taught, and the love he gave so freely.

 

In honor of John’s life and to help cover funeral expenses, the family has created a GoFundMe page. Any contribution, no matter the size, is deeply appreciated and will help us celebrate him in the way he deserves.

 

As we say goodbye, we remember the words often spoken by John’s father, Judge William "Bill" Beemer, who presided over many memorial services in his time. He would remind us that in the Paiute language, there is no expression for a lasting goodbye—only a gentle, hopeful farewell: “See you next time.” He would then recite it in the Paiute tongue. When asked to write it down, the judge paused, looked to the heavens, and said with a smile, “I have no idea. I’ve never done it the same way twice.” That was the humor of Judge Beemer—and the spirit of John Robert Beemer, who carried that same warmth, wit, and wisdom through every chapter of his life.

 

See you next time, John, we love you.