First Impressions – A Stevo Story

He had to be a freshman.  I was a disgruntled “third year” student at Sierra College, having missed my opportunity to transfer to UCD.  It was fall 2000,  and as I awaited my 8am poly sci class to commence, I observed a smallish guy with a big grin sitting on the floor in front of the door, all too eager to begin his academic day.  Once inside the classroom, he sat next to me. We were two of only 10 in this International Relations class.  Our professor, we lovingly labeled, “Satan,” began his ranting and ravings about Vietnam and terrorism.  The first words Stephen spoke to me: “Could I borrow a pencil?”  I thought it was weird…I stopped carrying pencils in high school, and thought I only had pens on me.  I checked, and found one pencil and reluctantly gave it to him.  For the next week, everyday he asked me for a pencil. I gave him my only pencil the first day, and he never returned it to me, which I reminded him of.  So I began giving him my pens.  I was beginning to get a little perturbed, since I was now down to only one or two pens to use myself.  I was about to offer to buy him a Costco pack of pencils.  After the first two weeks of class, Satan cancelled one day, so I rushed out of there unsure of what I was going to do until my next class…not enough time to go home and sleep, but too much time to sit around waiting.  The little guy said something behind me. I turned around to acknowledge him.  It was then that I noticed he had the most gorgeous eyes I had ever seen.  He bought me coffee and he had tea, and we talked for the next hour in the cafeteria. I learned that he was a musician, which scored a lot of points with me.  One of Stephen’s best friends, Charlie was kind enough to put a label on how I felt for Stephen at the time.  Without divulging it, as it may be offensive to sensitive readers, it alluded to his small stature, and yet “satisfactory” appearance.  His appearance was more then satisfactory, obviously, he had the most expressive eyes, and beautiful smile I’d ever seen.  

Our first date was very memorable. He cooked me chicken fetaccini, and brought me to the park by the river under Hazel Ave.  Stephen was well prepared, with the exception of a bottle opener. For he had even thought to bring a bottle of sparkling cider.  Unfortunately for him, it was not the “twist off” kind.  I was horrified as I watched him bare hand it, but he eventually succeeded!  He must really like me, I thought.   Then the bees came.  They came out of nowhere. They swarmed all over our romantic dinner, and we had to move twice, and finally give up altogether, because like most women, I’m deathly afraid of bees.  He took me home and kneeled down on one knee and kissed my hand, adding “See you soon princess.”  That’s when I knew he was a keeper.  It was not until later that he admitted he thought he’d never see me again after the bee incident.  

It seems like ages ago as I reminisce about those first memories of “us.”  They are and will always be some of my best memories.  Oh, and did I mention he has the voice of an angel??

Love you Stephen,

- Rosemary

A Stephen Story – The Murphy’s

Stephen and Shawna in Kindergarten

Hey everyone.  I got this quick Stephen story from Bonnie Murphy through Kate Asche.

Kate forwarded this to me because she, “thought this was adorable”.

She wasn’t wrong.

HI Kate:
Thanks for sending this along. Yes, please keep me posted on the events. I
read Stephen’s blog with a heavy heart. Maybe you remember his family
lived in our neighborhood. Reading his blog, i can only picture him as a
little boy riding his bike with busy energy. He played with Shawna
sometimes and I remember he was about 6 or 7 and he gave Shawna $2. This
must have been all the money in the world to them back then!

Thanks Kate,
Bonnie (and Fran and Shawna and Michael) Murphy

-Uncle Stephen- By Emily Snyder

Below is a contribution Stephen’s sister-in-law Emily Snyder.

Hi everyone, I wanted to take some time to tell you what I know about Stephen Shirley. Stephen is a great many things: son of God, loving husband, song writer, singer, music recorder, brother, son, friend, golfer, Scotland bound traveler . . . the list goes on and on. But the one aspect of Stephen I want to focus on today is “Uncle Steve”. My name is Emily. I am Rosemary’s one and only sister, and I am mother to Stephen and Rosemary’s two darling nephews. Their names are Eli and Isaiah, also lovingly called “E” and “Marsh” by Uncle Steve.

Eli and Isaiah Snyder

Stephen became an uncle a little over three years ago. One of the earliest memories I have of him being an uncle is of him holding newborn “E” on the couch in our living room. Eli started to cough a little, and as soon as he did I started toward him (being the usual anxious first time mom that I was). But I quickly stopped short because Uncle Steve was all over it.

He immediately and gently lifted little “E” up to his shoulder to pat his back. I settled back into my seat, confident he was in good hands.

Eli has been blessed to have many special moments with Uncle Steve. As soon as he learned how to speak he would ask for “Roe-Steve”. Randomly calling out for them when we got into the car to go somewhere, or have an imaginary conversation with them on a toy phone. When he got familiar with our neighborhood, he would say, “da da no go home.” I would then ask, “Eli, you don’t want to go home?” “No,” he would say. “Then where do you want to go?” I would ask. “Roe-Steve’s house,” was always his answer.”

Isaiah Snyder and Uncle Stephen

When Isaiah was due to be born, we made plans ahead of time for Eli to stay with Aunt Rosemary and Uncle Steve while I labored. They fed him, changed him, and played with him. And “E” loved it!

Isaiah or “Marsh” joined us in life about a month after Stephen was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. By the way, Isaiah received the nickname “Marsh” from Aunt Roe and Uncle Steve because his complexion was so white and he was squishy like a marshmallow. Anyway, like with Eli, there was an immediate bond between Isaiah and Uncle Steve. Uncle Steve introduced Isaiah to bacon, which scored big “mmmmm” points with him. He also bought him his first drum. And it is a special drum, when you hit it, whole songs play. Once those songs start playing, Isaiah starts dancing. My mom reminded me of a moment when Uncle Steve was playing with Isaiah and his drum, (he is an uncle who loves to get down on the ground with his nephews). The music was playing. Isaiah was dancing. And Uncle Steve smiled and said, “you’ve got the music in you buddy. You’ve got the music in you.”

Stephen and Eli

Play time with Uncle Steve has been less frequent these days. The sicker Stephen gets, the more risk there is for exposure of germs from his nephews. As everyone knows, kids can be little germ carriers. If Stephen is having a bad day, the boys can’t see him. If the boys are sick (which is often these days), then they can’t see him. But there was one time I (mom) needed to get something done at church. It was a situation that I could manage with one child, but not two. So I called Uncle Steve and asked if he wanted some one on one time with Eli. Uncle Steve said yes. Not cancer, chemo, or any side-effect was going to deter him from spending some time with his nephew. It tired him out for sure. But I know Eli will never forget it.

- Emily Snyder

A Stephen Story – Alyssa and Austin Creek

This is a photo from 2000, right when Stephen and Rosemary started dating.

Rosemary and I had made plans to go to Great America together and a few days before she asked if Stephen could come too. I secretly was disappointed that he was coming because I just wasn’t sure he was good enough for my best friend, but of course I said that he could come with us. I am so glad that he came that day though because it didn’t take long for me to see that Stephen was perfect for Rosemary.

Stephen, I want to thank you for loving Rosemary the way you do, for your heart that seeks and shares God and for sharing your passion for music with so many. You are in our prayers.

- Alyssa and Austin

For you my Love

I have never felt so helpless in my life.  I have never felt so young and yet old at the same time.  I have never questioned the meaning of my life the way I have since this disease stole my happiness.  The world is cruel and unloving.  I struggle for normalcy and to step foot out of my house each day.  I am a slave to my house, my debts, my anger, my hopelessness, my broken dreams.  I could scream til I became hoarse, and it would be useless.  Where is God?  Why is He silent when I need Him the most?  The  cancer has bled into the most sacred and vulnerable part of my soul.  My beloved husband has suffered in its wake.  Hope is a double-edged sword.  Without it, there is nothing.  With hope I am left desperate, wanting, casting futile prayers to the heavans.  Am I a fool?  Maybe the world is random chaos void of goodness.  To watch the one person in the world that you would give your life for suffer through the tortures of disease, trials, procedures, hospitalizations, and the fear of death itself is unbearable.  I cannot save you my love.  I would give anything to see you happy again, without the fear I’ve come to know looking into your eyes.  If I could, I would give you a sacred garden where your music could flourish and flow freely from you spirit.  I would give up everything to see you healthy again.  Sleep evades me when I need it the most.  I wake up terrified with the nagging feeling of impending horrors, calculated in such a perfect way, that they would destroy the strongest being alive.  I am a zombie stumbling through life with outstretched arms waiting, grasping, yearning for a firm foundation.   I was not made for this world.  What are God’s promises?  He is holy. How could I possibly fathom what He wants for me, and from me?  I am alone. I am abandoned.   We are abandoned.   The only numbing solice to be found is being with my love, my husband.  I envy your faith and strength, for I am mortified of being left behind.   The blackness consumes me.  I await a new day….

Always and Forever,

Rosemary

A Stephen Story – Scott Kegley

Hey everyone.

I just got the first Stephen Story in the email and wanted to post it as soon as I could.  This one comes from Stephen’s good friend Scott Kegley.

I grew up just down the street from Stephen.  I remember Marlene telling me that I could come over whenever I wanted because they were “my second family.”  They were much more than that.

I have so many great memories of Steve – going to Royal Rangers, racing pinewood derby cars, racing miniature dragsters, playing baseball in the cul de sac, pretending we were sports broadcasters and eating 20 McDonalds cheeseburgers by ourselves.  That last one wasn’t exactly how we drew it up – Christy, Marlene and Dave had all eaten by the time we got back.

I shared so much with Steve and he even prayed with me when I “officially” asked Jesus Christ into my heart.  I was always raised going to church, but I had never made that declaration until that time with Steve and the rest of our Royal Rangers group.

I was honored to be a groomsman at his wedding.  Even though rain came pouring down for a moment, Steve talked to Rosemary, looked at those in attendance who were sheltering themsleves from the onslaught, and said, “We’re just going to finish here” instead of moving it inside.  That just showed how Steve approached every situation in life – with conviction and determination.

Even when we learned to golf together – neither of us had any clue what in the heck we were doing.  We began by attempting to hit whiffle golf balls from his front lawn to the other side of the street using his dad’s golf clubs which we had found in the garage.  Some of them made it to the other side of the street and a few of them narrowly avoided oncoming traffic.  Don’t worry, the street wasn’t that busy and I don’t believe we caused any accidents.  After Payne Stewart (our favorite golfer) died, Steve and I showed up to the course the next morning dressed in Stewart’s famound knickers and argile socks.  The attendant was so impressed that we earned ourselves a free round!

Though I don’t live down the street from Steve anymore, we would still try to play a round of golf when I came back to Sacramento.  He was my best friend growing up and there’s nothing I would like more than to be able to play many more rounds of golf with him. I hardly ever go golfing when I’m not with him.

Steve, Rosemary, Marlene, Dave and Christy – I think about you guys every day and I keep you all in my prayers.  You are “my second family” and I love Steve like a brother!

- Scott Kegley

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