One of my earliest memories of Steve was at the park the night before Grandpa Jensen was laid to rest. Jane and the fam were in from out of town and Steve and I were playing on the playground at a park following the viewing. It was getting towards the end of the evening Mom, Jane, and the rest of the aunts and uncles were packing up when Kevin and Jimmy enticed me to go wrestle with Steve and "beat him up." At first I hesitated, because I was already becoming really close with my cousin and was seeing him as a friend (more than just family) despite our 2 year age difference. For whatever reason, I eventually was talked into it. I went over to Stevie (as we called him then) and started to throw him down in my best impersonation of Hulk Hogan (who we both idealized at the time). My joy of victory was quickly squashed by Stevie's crying over a hurt shoulder and Jane yelling at us in frustration over his grass stained shorts and silk shirt, which were his only outfit for the the next day and she had no time to wash them. I immediately felt awful; however, had I known this would be the last time I would beat him at anything, I think I would have enjoyed the moment a little longer!!!! Steve developed for sports much quicker than I, so by the time I was able to play catch, despite our age difference, Steve was able to keep up. We would play catch for hours on in, from dusk until dawn sometimes. It was always the same thing but never got old. We were running routes for that last minute end zone play, pretending we were pitcher and catcher (always bottom of the 9th 2 out, 2 on, up by 1), or making that last second buzzer beater shot. I couldn't wait for the times I got to spend with Steve. He was the only person I knew that loved to be outside and play sports as much as I. Steve was a much better athlete though. One hot July day, our whole family had an epic barn hoops battle. Being closest in age, I was given the impossible task of covering Steve. If this had been a real game, I would have fouled out in the first 5 plays Steve had the ball. The only way for me to keep up with him was to basically try to man handle him with my two year older stature. Steve ended up scoring more points than even the adults that day. One of the plays will never escape my mind. Steve drove to the hoop dodging my swat attempts, and a couple of the uncles, makes a few cuts and then lays up a Jordan like shot that had everyone talking for years. How could this little shit play so well?!? I was always jealous of Steve's natural athletic ability.

As the years passed, my immediate family moved to NC and my times with Steve went from every couple of weeks to only a couple of times a year, but I actually think they became more important and special knowing we only had a few short days to visit. Our talks grew from whether Jerry Rice or Joe Montana were more critical to the 9ers, to which girls we were interested in, discussions about our parents, our shared worries and the need to protect everyone around us. Steve always expressed his deepest concerns for his family and friends and would almost be brought to tears with his love for everyone. You could just feel his heart pour out in conversation.

Some of my favorite memories began when Steve and I were able to drive. Our trips back to Iowa always included a night out on the town with Steve. We would go to a barn party or one of his friends’ houses (usually Steedo or Izzy) and hang out. Steve had grown into a social genius. Everywhere we went Steve was "the man" and he always seemed to have the hottest girls after him. I would always go back to NC with a huge confidence boost, feeling so energized from spending the week with Steve’s charismatic personality. It was almost as though he had no insecurities and everyone was better for being around him.

I will always remember Steve’s visit to NC my senior year of high school. Steve got to fly out to NC to come and spend a week of the summer with me. I had just bought my pick-up and I got to drive it to Raleigh to pick-up Steve from the airport and then down to Myrtle Beach together. Within the first 10 minutes of picking Steve up from the airport I had to do some Dukes of Hazard maneuvers on the highway literally cutting through some grass to make our exit while driving 80mph in more traffic than I'm sure Steve had ever seen. I think I scared the crap out of both of us, but of course Steve played it so cool, as though he did this kind of thing all the time!!  We ended up getting into Myrtle Beach in one piece and our first stop was to try to get some beer.  So who better to choose than some homeless looking guy in the parking lot of the first convenience store we find!!? I gave the guy some money and make our way around the back of the store, when we are then approached by an undercover cop, who tried to sell us drugs. We had a good laugh at the guys expense and basically told him to go pound sand when he threw in a last minute "my partner is coming around in a minute, we will get you whatever you need." There was no more playing it cool on either of our parts. We were now convinced that the homeless guy was the undercover cops "partner" and we were going to jail and how were we ever going to explain this one to our folks?!? I drove back around front and went into the store to get my money back from the homeless guy, who was pretending he didn't know me. He comes out into the parking lot throws the beer in the back and gives me the rest of my change, then remarks "sorry to ignore you, but I didn't want anyone to know, you can get into big trouble for buying kids beer". Steve and I laughed our asses off at how sketched out we both were and then pulled out of the road to a road block!!! I casually made a right turn into what appeared to be a parking lot but was actually a sand lot. We got stuck in the lot and I was sure we were definitely getting a ticket or arrested now!! Eventually I was able to get out of the lot and back on the road where we found the "road block turned out to be a cop car turning on his lights for some sewer work. Again, we had a huge laugh at how ridiculous we were and finally made our way to our hotel. By the time we got back we were so exhausted from the day that we couldn't even drink the beer we worked so hard to get!!

My time with Steve was filled with many, many, more great memories, especially our times on the lakes and our times in Iowa City. The one thing I will always remember is the feeling Steve would leave me with after we spent time together. Steve had this ability to not only make you have the time of your life, but to actually make you feel better about yourself. I think that is one of the things that I am going to miss about Steve the most, as described perfectly Maya Angelou “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”  Steve always left me with a feeling that I could accomplish anything just by being around him. There are no words to describe this feeling, but I am sure if you are reading this, you were close with him and there is no need for explanation, you already know.

I think the world of Steve - always have and always will. I can say that I always looked up to him as a young guy and as a friend as the years passed. Always lively, frisky, rambunctious, boyish, a tramp (as Mark Twain would use it), curious about everything, imaginative, free, he was a guy I looked up to because he made it so plainly obvious how happy he was about the things and people he was involved with and in turn how easy it was for me to perceive that he genuinely liked and cared for me. Obviously a good looking guy, he charmed with a smile, had the impact to be immediately liked, had a loose way with words that was both smart and agreeable, and gave affection to all. I think his greatest talent was his ability to express love and intimacy so easily. He had a magnetism about him – with much that pushed and pulled, and he was especially attracted to the land and the music of guitars and the voices of folk singers and writings of those who lived America and friends that he found everywhere he went.  He was connected to a community of poets and artists, vagabonds, farmers, free-wheeling young people that inspired him and lived with a certain recklessness and delight that can only be described as ‘Kerouac’esque. He was drawn to the land –the pothole prairie of Iowa with its long sweeping expanses, slow steady rivers that dry up and swell again, misty mornings over the corn, and the smell of harvest season hanging everywhere - we talkeda about Iowa a lot. He was so proud to be returning to farming, and he would go on and about his ideas for bio-intensive planting, new harvest techniques and generally the importance of organic agriculture and about how he was going to change Iowa, the Midwest, the world. We traded music over the years and he loved a guy named William Elliot Whitmore. He sings like he has gravel in his gullet – I could never quite figure out why Steve liked that guy so much, except that there was a bit of Iowa and home in every word.

This was by John Steinbeck from “About Ed Ricketts”. Steinbeck was a favorite author of Steve’s (he loved the book East of Eden and at one point gave me a dog-eared, second edition copy of the book). “Certainly he was an interesting and charming man, but there was some other quality that far exceeded these. I have thought that it might be his ability to receive, to receive anything from anyone, to receive gracefully and thankfully, and to make the gift seem very fine. Because of this everyone felt good in giving to him–a present, a thought, anything. Receiving if it is well-done, requires a fine balance of self-knowledge and kindness. It requires humility and tact and great understanding of relationships. In receiving, you cannot appear, even to yourself, better or stronger or wiser than the giver, although you must be wiser to do it well.” I find this meaningful and not only because Steve was my receiver on the football field (He was an excellent athlete, tough, slight in build but strong, and I got to chuck footballs to him which is also one of my favorite memories of him. He was almost too fast for his body to keep up… he was what’s called a ‘glue’ guy– hung us all together with his joy and attitude and competitiveness), but because I know that he loved the good stuff in life and gave it his full reception.

I believe in storytelling and want to share this one that I find funny and revealing about Steve. One of the last times I saw Steve he slept over at my folks place in Spencer. As it happened, we got in a bit late. And, I was sleeping in the ‘toy room’ in the basement. Steve and I hadn’t seen each other in about 2 years and I put him to bed next to mine. It was late and still we stayed up talking in the complete pitch dark of that basement room. Finally at the end, he said, “man, I love you so much, Rose” I’ll never forget that. He was so good at imparting intimacy. It was so unnecessary, but so perfect and it still rings in my heart. Little did I know then, but Steve was a sleep-walker, and in the middle of the night, apparently he made quite a trip through my folk’s house. At one point Steve threw my mother’s curlers down the laundry chute which must have made the loudest noise in creation (later my mother told me she yelled from her bedroom – Kirk what in the hell are you doing!?). My poor mother hadn’t seen Steve in maybe 5 years and didn’t recognize him when she found him sleeping on the kitchen table the next morning at 5 am where he was mumbling about a variety of things. We all still laugh about that and being the terrible people we are, my mother and I knew who both knew Steve was such a sweetheart, thought we might put him on about it a little. She sent him a text message the next day saying “Steve, what the heck? My curlers are ruined, my house is a mess, etc.’ all in jest. The response from Steve was so genuine and true to who he was, even though we told him we were joking and he was welcome back of course any time, that we’d be delighted to have him back– he handwrote her an apology note, offered a ‘lifetime’ of free vegetables from his farm (not sure if they were his to give away, but…) and proceeded to make an outright apology to me and my mother every time we interacted for the next forever. He was a lovely man and I’ll miss him something sore. ‘Life is a ripe melon, so sweet and such a mess’ – Greg Brown