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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
motherfucking 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 burried at his summer home on Beech Island up in Bow Lake, NH. So
this summer we all gather to remember Stephen and say goodbye.
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.
This picture is art too. It's called "Katie and Art = Art."
Noice, right?
After art, we headed over to the local diner for some late-night grizzub.
I only included this picture because it shows Katie's wonderful little
hair knobby thingies.
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....
A bad-ass third-floor bedroom that was actually a glass box of all windows
up on the roof. Katie and Erin.
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!
Who's this handsome devil? Yes siree Bob! That's B.Batch, Sr. ice-grilling
in front of his ride, yo.
That's Cousin Kevin Crowell ferrying us over to the island for a small
memorial service and burying of the ashes.
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).
Here's my Aunt Kathy, Stephen's wife, in the main house by the jukebox.
She helped hold the fam together (and was co-conspiriter in toleration
of my family during the many summers we invaded their otherwise quiet,
island summerhome). Thanks Kathy! :)
Cousin Katie and I at the dock. Starting to liven back up after 3 hours
of crying our God-damned eyes out.
After the ceremony, we all headed over the Grange Hall on the mainland
for a much larger memorial service in Stephen's honor.
Me, Katie, Brian Kelly, and Brian Crowell. (We all grew up together
spending our summer on Beech Island with Uncle Stephen.)
After the Grange Hall, the family all headed back to island for some
food and final bonding time.
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.
Unlce Donald shows us all what's up.
Goodbye Stephen. We miss you and we'll never forget you.
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