July 07, 2002

goodbye uncle stephen

My Uncle Stephen was one of the most influential people in my life. Back in the day when I was a teen fuckup, Uncle Steve was one of the only people in my life (beyond my parents) that gave me the benefit of the doubt.

Beyond being kind and wonderful and wise, he was also one of the coolest cats that I ever had the pleasure of knowing. He passed away in January of 2002 down in Key West, but he wanted his ashes to be buried on the grounds of his summer home on Beech Island up in Bow Lake, NH. So this summer we all gather to remember Stephen and say goodbye.

kate c, me — As soon as I got into Strafford, I dropped my stuff off at the hotel that my parents were staying in and then immediately headed over to Portsmith to meet up with Cousin Katie (who you may remember from such long-ago diary entries as 1997's Visiting Boston With Cousin Katie, here's us with her friend Erin.

Katie's a painter and we headed over to one of the galleries that was exhibiting some of her rad-ass paintings.

kate c — This picture is art too. It's called "Katie and Art = Art." Noice, right?

kate c — After art, we headed over to the local diner for some late-night grub.

kate c, me — I only included this picture because it shows Katie's wonderful little hair knobby thingies.

kate c — After food we went back to the loft Katie's staying at in the "Button Factory." (For those of you not "in the know" with Portsmith, the Button Factory is huge, former, yup you guessed it, Button Factory that they've converted into Artist in Residence lofts. It's basically the Williamsburg of NH, ya dig?)

The place was frigging reeeediculous. Had two huge rooms, a very large second floor loft and....

kate c — ...a bad-ass third-floor bedroom that was actually a glass box of all windows up on the roof!

We hung out late so I ended up crashing at Katie's where I surely would've gotten eaten alive by mosquitoes if it hadn't been for the battery-operated, ultrasonic mosquito-repelling keychain my parents had given me earlier on in the evening!

dad — Who's this handsome devil? Yes siree Bob! That's B.Batch, Sr. ice-grilling in front of his ride, yo.

kate c, kevin crowell, me — That's Cousin Kevin Crowell (who taught me how to water ski when I was a wee lad!) ferrying us over to the island for a small memorial service and burying of the ashes.

me, mom — That's my mom at the bow. (If you look closely, you can see the boathouse peeking out at the very tip of Beech Island in the background).

The Steinmuller Boathouse.

The view from the dock. That's Popcorn Island straight ahead. We used to snorkel out to it and explore when I was a leeetle kid.

Here's the champagne toast after the conclusion of the service (That's the main house in the background).

kathy steinmuller — Here's my Aunt Kathy, Stephen's wife, in the main house by the jukebox. Along with Stephen, she was co-conspiriter in the toleration of my family during the many summers we invaded their otherwise quiet, island summer home. Thanks, Kathy! (PS - That jukebox had the 45 record of the Laura Brannigan song Gloria. People used to play that song over and over again. Funny how it ended up being my all-time favorite karaoke jam).

kate c, me — Cousin Katie and I at the dock. Starting to liven back up after 3 hours of crying our eyes out.

brian crowell, brian kelly — After the ceremony, we all headed over the Grange Hall on the mainland for a much larger memorial service in Stephen's honor. Brian and Brian in the back of the boat!

brian crowell, brian kelly, kate c, me — Me, Katie, Brian Kelly, and Brian Crowell. (We all grew up together spending our summer on Beech Island with Uncle Stephen.)

dad, kate c, me — After the Grange Hall, the family all headed back to island for some food and final bonding time.

kate c — Which included fucking around on....THE BONGO BOARD! My dad and his brother grew up spending his summers at a different lakehouse with Stephen and his brothers where they would get drunk and see who could stay balanced on the Bongo Board the longest.

donald steinmuller — Uncle Donald shows us all what's up.

Goodbye, Uncle Stephen. We miss you and we'll never forget you.