On Saturday, February 15th, Interfaith Sanctuary lost a beloved member of our community. His name was Leo, and to so many, he was more than a friend—he was a kind soul, a steady presence, and a cherished part of our family.
To honor Leo’s life, we held a memorial service on Sunday, February 23rd—a day that also happened to be National Muffin Day.
What is National Muffin Day?
National Muffin Day was created 11 years ago by Jacob Kaufman and Julia Levy in San Francisco, CA, as a way to raise awareness about food insecurity. They began a tradition of baking and distributing muffins to those in need—offering nourishment and kindness, one muffin at a time.
A Tribute to Leo, Wrapped in Love and Muffins
We wanted to combine the spirit of National Muffin Day with Leo’s memorial, providing a moment of comfort and nourishment for our unhoused community as they gathered to say goodbye to their dear friend. So, we reached out through email and Facebook, asking our community to bake muffins in Leo’s memory to share at the service.
And what happened next was nothing short of incredible.
We received hundreds and hundreds of muffins. They came from local stores, churches, and even from Leo’s own family members, who joined us in remembering him. The outpouring of love—expressed through something as simple as a muffin—was extraordinary. It was a powerful reminder of just how much Leo was loved.
A Life That Touched So Many
The memorial began with a breathtaking tribute from Bob Lemmon, a guest at Interfaith and a dear friend of Leo’s. Bob asked to open the service with a solo performance of Open Arms by Journey—sung a cappella. Before he took the stage, our executive director, Jodi Peterson-Stigers, sought to learn more about Bob so she could introduce him properly. It was then that we all discovered that Bob was a classically trained tenor from Boise State University, with over 126 performances at The Knock ‘Em Dead Dinner Theatre.
With that introduction, Bob stood up from his walker, threw back his head, and sang the most powerful, heartfelt version of Open Arms that anyone in the room had ever heard. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
Then, one by one, Leo’s friends stepped up to the mic to share their memories. He was a father, a grandfather, an uncle, a brother, and chosen family to so many. Fellow veterans, biker friends, his sister-in-law, a young homeless mother, and a brother who shared his love of rings and music all came forward, each with their own story about the man they loved. The stories went on and on, painting a picture of a life that touched so many.
A Love Story Left Untold
Among those who spoke was Gypsy Wind, a dear friend of Leo’s. He shared a deeply moving story about Leo and his best girl, Deb.
Leo’s love for Deb was enormous—so much so that he bought her an engagement ring, intending to ask for her hand in marriage. But before he could, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Not wanting Deb to marry a dying man, he never gave her the ring. Instead, he kept it in his pocket until the day he passed.
After Gypsy shared this story, he played a video from Deb, in which she spoke about her love for Leo and sent a personal message of love to his family. It was a moment of tenderness and heartbreak, a testament to the depth of Leo’s love.
A Family Forever Changed
Leo’s family sat together on our well-worn brown sofa, listening intently as story after story unfolded. When the service ended, they shared with us that this memorial had changed their lives—and their perception of Leo. They had no idea the enormous impact he had on our unhoused community. It shifted their understanding of his life, and for that, they were forever grateful.
They left knowing that Leo did not die alone. His life was filled with friendships, stories, community, and joy.
And that is a legacy worth remembering.
