William Arthur Donlon

William A. Donlon—Bill to most, Opi, Uncle Bill or “UB” to family, and occasionally “Friendly Bill,” a nickname he coined with an intended flourish of irony—passed away on August 20, 2026, at his home in Annapolis, surrounded by family. He was 90 years old.

Born in Chicago on December 31, 1935, Bill was the son of Lorraine Dowe Donlon and William Adelbert Donlon and grew up in Des Plaines, Illinois, alongside his younger sister and only sibling, Sheila. Their father died when the children were young, leaving their mother to raise them with the considerable help of extended family. Bill never forgot the sacrifices made on their behalf. Those early years instilled in him a steely perseverance, fierce self-reliance, and an abiding conviction that family was not simply something one belonged to—it was something one showed up for. And Bill showed up.

Years later, while recounting his life to family, he offered what may have been the most succinct description of himself: “If you want to know something about me, it’s that I SHOW UP.” He meant it quite literally. Bill believed relationships required participation. He wanted to be involved, wanted to help, and wanted those he cared about to know he was there. His enthusiasm was not always accompanied by an equal measure of tact, but there was rarely any question about the sincerity behind it.

Bill graduated from the University of Illinois and served in the U.S. Army along the German/Russian border during the Cold War. During his time in the Army, he formed lifelong friendships. He and his wife, Joyce, would gather with the “troops” every five years from their home in Annapolis to Europe. He went on to a successful career in business, working for Prudential Financial, Shearson Hammil & Co., and Booz Allen Hamilton before striking out on his own and founding Program Resources, Inc.

Success suited Bill, but sitting still did not.

He possessed an enormous appetite for experience and remained intensely curious about history, people, and places throughout his life. He fly-fished in the Arctic, heli-skied, drove his Porsche on the track, and explored the Chesapeake Bay and Severn River aboard his aptly named boat, Mach Schnell. He encouraged younger family members to travel, open their eyes to the world, and think beyond the obvious. He could be intimidating, but he could also be an extraordinary mentor, generous with both his experience and his attention.

Vail, Colorado, was perhaps his heaven on earth: skiing fresh powder through the back bowls in winter; hiking among alpine wildflowers in summer; and, ideally, he and Joyce would end the day over dinner at Sweet Basil. He appreciated a good steak, a fine red wine, a Cuban cigar, a spirited conversation, and people capable of holding their own in one.

History was another lifelong passion. While planning a trip to Normandy for the 40th anniversary of the D-Day invasion, Bill helped form what became the Normandy Planning Group, beginning a decades-long friendship among fellow history enthusiasts. His interest in history eventually became intensely personal as well. For roughly a decade, Bill undertook an ambitious genealogical study of the Donlon family, traveling through Canada and the United Kingdom in search of its story. The resulting family memoir preserved a history that had largely been lost and remains an invaluable gift to the generations that follow. That effort reflected something fundamental about Bill: he did not want people to forget where they came from—or one another.

Bill's own circle extended well beyond family. Friends remember him as a force of nature, one of the best conversationalists they knew, and someone whose friendship was active rather than passive. He supported people through difficult times, offered advice whether solicited or not, and possessed a remarkable ability to remain present in the lives of those he cared about.

Bill is survived by his loving wife of 41 years, Joyce Webb Donlon; his daughters, Claudette, Simone, and Alissa (Ryan); his son, Andrew (Denielle); his grandsons, Otto and Aengus; and his granddaughters, Cecelia, Juliet, and Evangeline. He is also survived by his former wife, Christine G. Donlon, as well as nieces, nephews, grandnieces, grandnephews, and great-grandnieces. He was preceded in death by his sister, Sheila Wegner.

In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made to Nature Sacred, 105 Annapolis St., Suite D, Annapolis, MD 21401, or Hospice of the Chesapeake, 90 Ritchie Highway, Pasadena, MD 21122.