Richard Michael Neeley
On Saturday, June 7, 2025, Richard Michael Neeley of Galena, Kansas, slipped out of this life the way he often exited conversations, quietly, unapologetically, and entirely on his own terms. Born March 6, 1968, Richard was the son of the late Stephanie Rane Neeley and the fiercely loyal brother of Beverley Kay Walker. He was a storyteller, a hunter, a dog whisperer, and a walking encyclopedia of obscure trivia, especially if it involved Scoop Albright striking out Mickey Mantle three times. Not just once. Not twice. Three. Easily, as Richard would say. Every retelling of that story came with more flair, more detail, and an unshakeable belief in Scoop’s divine pitching abilities. If you dared question it, you’d get a passionate breakdown of baseball mechanics that could rival a college lecture. Richard was nothing if not convincing.
He worked for many years at the family-owned video store, back when movie rentals were an art form and “be kind, rewind” was the law of the land. Later, he traveled the country with his cousin Dustin Gilpin, remodeling Lowe’s stores and collecting stories that we’ll never fully hear but would be rated PG-13 for strong language and mild sarcasm. In his later years, Richard returned home to Galena, where he worked in customer service for several gas station franchises. He had a way with people, dry humor, brutal honesty, and the kind of wit that made even a 6 a.m. coffee run something to laugh about. He didn’t just ring you up; he gave you a little perspective with your receipt.
Dustin precedes him in death, as do his beloved mother, Stephanie Rane Neeley; his maternal grandparents, Richard and Helen Neeley; and his cousin-in-law, Terry Davis. We hope they are all happily reunited, sharing peace, love, and maybe just a little laughter that only family can
Bring. A lifelong outdoorsman, Richard had a special love for coon hunting and the dogs that made it an art. He was a two-time recipient of the Junior Hunter’s Award and trained more hounds than most people could name. If your dog was smarter than you were, odds are Richard had something to do with it. He loved the woods, the chase, and the quiet bond between man and dog.
But perhaps nothing brought Richard more pride than his role as “Uncle.” He was fiercely proud of his nephews; Cody, Colby, Dakota, and Tanner Walker and he made sure everyone knew it. From cheering them on at sporting events to bragging about their accomplishments to anyone who’d listen (or pretend to), he was their biggest fan and their built-in life coach. He was tough when they needed it, but always in their corner, offering up hard-earned wisdom disguised as dry humor. He especially loved sitting with them for hours talking conspiracy theories, most of which Richard was hilariously and unapologetically delusional. Whether it was aliens, Bigfoot, or secret government plots, he made each conversation unforgettable. His nephews will carry those moments with them forever, both for the laughs and the strange comfort of knowing that Uncle Richard had the “real” story.
And right before every family picture, without fail, Richard would flash that signature smirk and say, “Grin like a possum eating shit.” And they would, because it wasn’t just a photo, it was a moment with him. The fun, the sarcasm, the unforgettable presence that only Richard could bring.
Richard wasn’t a man of pretense. He was a man with a cigarette, camouflage, and commentary. You knew where you stood with him, because he’d tell you. If you didn’t like it? He wasn’t losing sleep over it. He was as real as they came, a little rough around the edges, but solid at the core.
He is survived by his sister, Beverley Kay Walker (Columbia, MO); his Aunt, Sara Ann Gilpin (Joplin, MO); his great-aunt Beverly Kay Moore (Joplin, MO); his great-uncle, James Earl Neeley & wife Sharon of (Coffeeville, KS), nephews Cody (Killeen, TX), Colby (Galena, KS), Dakota (Mount Holly, NJ), and Tanner Walker (Galena, KS); his cousin Jason Gilpin (Joplin, MO) and Jason’s children Courtney, Kaden, and Keeton; his cousin Fern Ann Davis (Joplin, MO); and many other friends, family members, and loyal four-legged companions who all loved him in that uniquely “Richard” kind of way.
A private memorial will be held in his honor, with minimal fuss, no lengthy speeches, and absolutely no open mic, because Richard would have hated that. If you’d like to remember him, pour a strong cup of coffee, sit outside, and tell a story that gets better each time you tell it. Bonus points if it’s mostly true. Rest easy, Richard. Stories are still being told, and the legend only grows.
Arrangements are under the direction of Ozark Memorial Park Crematory of Joplin, MO
