John W. Snyder

John was the son of Karl M. and Mary B. Snyder of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He shared his parents with an older brother, William R. Snyder (d. 2004), and older sister, Janet M. Caruso, both of Philadelphia. From childhood, John was a mixture of strength and tenderness. From his father, John drew his booming voice and from his mother, a sustaining interest in spirituality.

John attended Monsignor Bonner High School and graduated with a degree in Finance from LaSalle University. He called college the “best four years of my life,” a statement his daughter would take to heart when she became a professor. John never told her that he meant the best four years of partying, not studying.

After college, John joined ServiceMaster and moved to Harrisburg, where he met Margaret Lynch. The two married in 1976. Wedding photos reveal a stunning Margie sporting a Farah Fawcett haircut and an unselfconscious John wearing white boxer shorts under an all-white tuxedo. For 49 years, their marriage was a model of affection and good humor.

In 1980, John and Margie relocated to the Pocono Mountains. There, they raised two children, Jillian Snyder of South Bend, Ind. and Sean Snyder of Scottsdale, Ariz. John, who had transferred to ServiceMaster’s aviation division, often travelled for work, leading his children to wonder if he was a spy. Despite John’s uncanny knowledge of midwestern airports, his children maintain their suspicions.

After 9/11, ServiceMaster sold the aviation division, and John left the company. Following a brief existential crisis in which he grew a moustache, John kept fighting. At age 51, he reinvented himself as a realtor in the Pocono Mountains. He passed on a deep love of business to his son, now Director of Sales at Branch49.

Outside of work, John was an avid hunter and golfer. He was also an epic eater. His son-in-law, Micah Towery, likes to recount a “normal” dinner for John: a mound of pita chips smothered in Boar’s Head turkey, a half slab of American cheese, and pats of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter! After Micah joined the family, he began grilling chicken for John, which forever sealed their bond.

Throughout his life, John maintained strong friendships. As one friend put it, “I'm a better man because of John.” He made regular calls to his brother-in-law, Barry Smith. He once called another friend just to tell him that he loved him.

In his later years, John's happiest achievements were watching the Philadelphia Eagles win the SuperBowl (twice!) and becoming a grandfather (“Bam Bam”). To his eldest grandson, John Lark, he bequeathed his first name. To his youngest, Francis Tate, he passed on his love of eating.

John died on Father’s Day, holding the hands of his wife and daughter. He loved fiercely and, for that reason, he will be fiercely missed.

John loved his grandkids. For that reason, in lieu of flowers, donations may be made to St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital. https://www.stjude.org/donate/donate-to-st-jude.html?sc_icid=header-btn-donate-now