We lost our Steve far too soon after a tragic car accident battle Thursday near Ralph's on Kilmartin Road. He was 39.For many years we'd been pulling for Steve, due to his obvious malfunctions, and knowing well that God had a plan for Steve. It turns out what God actually had planned was now cruelly unclear.
"Steve" was born on the same day he passed, in 1968. The Days of Rage, and protest, assassinations and the like, largely unaffected the toddler, who spent his days playing around with his action figurines of The Monkees. His first words were "Monkee!", and we all laughed and were proud.
He attended Steve Martin (not affiliated with the popular movie star and comedian) high school, where he met his best friend (and worst bad influence), Guillermo "Steve" Reyes, a bad seed if we ever saw one. He introduced Steve to 'dope', and the two spent many hours sketching "album covers" on their notebooks. One of his best, a graphic rendering of a rather busty young woman in chain mail with her arms suggestively clasped around the neck of a large serpent, hangs in his grandmother's living room to this day, framed and signed, "Love you G-Ma! I'm gonna make you proud!" We've often asked her to take the d___ thing down, but she won't listen.
After his primary education, he elected to not attend any secondary. He worked in some d___ store somewhere, selling something I guess, and generally disappointed all of us. I met one of his "girlfriends" one time, and that "Tami" didn't impress me at all. She kept falling to sleep at the dinner table. The one thing she had to say to us was that Steve was "really, really cool", which caused this guy here, anyway, to snort.
Anyway, we kept talking to Steve about his interests, and reminded him that God was watching. That didn't seem to cut any ice with him. He kept talking about how we were all fooling ourselves with that stuff, and how maybe we ought to get out a little more. Well Steve, what do you think now, that your probably in H___? Maybe you should've "got out" and went to some d___ church every now and again, and spent a little less time doing batik or whatever it was people like you do.
Love's a funny thing, and it ain't for free. His sister Lissa (who he is survived by) always said things like, "but he's your son!", like that meant anything. No Lissa, my son is named Loyalty, and I haven't seen that kid since he started hanging out with M____cans.
Memorial services to be held at Steve's Place (Tavern) on Long Road. We ask that you please bring a covered dish and please no more g_______ed phone calls to our house.
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