Allen R. Lerch

It is with heavy hearts that we announce the passing of Allen Robert Lerch, born March 27, 1954 in Brooklyn, NY to Henry and Joan Lerch. He leaves behind his beloved wife, Eileen and his 3 sons, Jason, Justin and Jon (not in height order). He also leaves behind his brother Tom, two grandchildren, Arianna and Mark, as well as many nieces, nephews, and other extended family members and friends.

Allen was a man who redefined what it meant to be a manly man, a genius, and occasionally, a beauty school heartthrob. Allen rode off into the eternal sunset, likely on a motorcycle, with a cigarette in his mouth and a cup of piping-hot coffee in hand, after consuming roughly three pots that day alone.

Allen wasn't just any man. He was a unicorn among men- rare, majestic, slightly magical, and probably covered in saw dust and grease. He could fix your transmission, cook you the best damn campfire breakfast you ever had, argue philosophy, and braid hair like a salon pro (more on that later).

An undeniable jack of all trades, Allen was the kind of man who knew how to do everything and do it right. Need a roof fixed? Allen’s already on the ladder. Need your heart lifted? He’s there with a joke and a mischievous grin. He was first to rise, first to help, and last to complain; that is unless you made weak coffee, in which case, prepare for a loving but scathing review.

A true outdoorsman, Allen found peace under the stars and purpose in the smell of pine, firewood, and a good breakfast skillet. He could set up camp faster than most people can say “where’s the tent?” and somehow had a full meal ready before you’d finished unrolling your sleeping bag.

Let’s not forget his wild and glorious youth: At one point in his life, Allen attended cosmetology school — not for the love of perms and mullets, but for the far nobler cause of meeting women. It was a strategy that, while unorthodox, was undeniably genius. And if you think that’s impressive, know this: Allen was once the Virginia State Dirt Bike Champion, and an amateur comedian.

He loved his country fiercely and was a veteran of the Navy (cue joke about sea men). Allen was as tough as nails and had a heart as big as his toolbox. He was always there to help, to teach, to fix, to cook, to laugh. His spirit was unbreakable, his hands calloused with work and love, and his soul seasoned with stories worth hearing twice (and you probably did).

He leaves behind a legacy of strength, humor, generosity, and possibly enough coffee consumption to keep Folgers in business for another decade. In every tool shed, every fire pit, every sun-dappled morning in the woods, and every perfectly cooked meal, his presence lingers.

Allen Robert Lerch: you were a one-of-a-kind, no-nonsense, grease-stained, coffee-powered, chain-smoking, bacon-flipping unicorn of a man. And damn, we’re gonna miss you.

So light a campfire, pour a cup of strong coffee, and say a dirty joke for Allen, and remember — Heroes get remembered but legends never die.

Services will be announced at a later date.