The Memorial Wall

She was born on April 18th, 1940, in Larimore ND to Dudley and Amy Winslow.

She was raised on the family farm in Arvilla ND.

At the age of 6 with a Tuberculosis diagnosis, she was quarantined at San Haven Sanatorium in Dunseith ND.

She returned home in the spring of 1948 just before her 8th birthday.

She attended school in Larimore ND.  Where she was a member of the Future Homemakers of America.  She was active in church activities and dance.

On Oct 26th, 1956, she married the love of her life, James Daniel Wiegandt.  They had a wonderful 54 years of marriage before James passed away in 2011.

They made their first home in Larimore North Dakota.  In 1957 they were blessed with a son Daniel.  In September of 1958 they left North Dakota to make California their forever home.  They resided in Long Beach California where their two daughters were born.  Joni in 1959 and Lynne 1961.  With 3 small children at home, she attended night school to complete her education and receive her high school diploma.

In 1966 they moved to Santa Ana, CA.  She was an amazing mother and active in her children’s schools, PTA, church activities and was the Camp Fire Girl leader.  

In 1974 they moved their final home in Garden Grove.  

She worked in the date entry field for 9 years before joining James in retirement, so they could travel.

They were active members in Sons of Norway, Danish Brotherhood and multiple community service projects through their church.

Her life was centered around her family, they were her greatest joy.

She was the most kind and loving mother to her 3 children.  

Her greatest pleasure was spending time with grandchildren and great-grandchildren and they adored her.

She died peacefully Saturday March 4th 2023 after a long 18 year battle with Parkinson’s disease.

She is survived by:

Son Daniel (Lynne) Wiegandt, Costa Mesa, CA

Daughter Joni (George) Chadwick, Bothell, WA

Daughter Lynne (Rick) Watkins, Yorba Linda CA

Grandchildren:

Melissa (Jeff) Alger, Ryan (Heather) Chadwick, Natalie (Jonathan) Smith

Bryon (Stacie) Watkins, Jonathan (Amber) Watkins,  Kimberly (Joshua) Kammer.

Great- Grandchildren:

Makayla, Brayden, Kypton, Landry, Caysen, Hannah, Evan, Logan, Norah, 

Finley, Nash and Harlon

Sister:

Clyone Serene

Multiple Nieces and Nephews

In lieu of flowers, the family would like donations to go to:

Parkinsonsresource.org/Ardythe Wiegandt

Or mail to Parkinson’s Resource Organization

 74-478 Highway 111 #102 Palm Desert, CA 92260

Death follows yearslong battle with Parkinson’s disease

James Carl Moeller was an American politician and mental health professional who served as a member of the Washington State House of Representatives, representing the 49th Legislative District from 2003 to 2017. A member of the Democratic Party, he represented the Clark County communities of Hazel Dell, Walnut Grove, Minnehaha and his native Vancouver.

Former Washington legislator and Vancouver city councilor Jim Moeller died Wednesday following a yearslong battle with Parkinson’s disease. He was 67.

State Rep. Sharon Wylie announced Moeller’s passing from the House floor Wednesday afternoon.

“He was fearless,” Wylie said in an interview later in the day.

Wylie said Moeller had most recently been working to get an assault weapons ban passed, adding the House passed a bill banning the weapons only hours after his death.

“He would defend other people to the death. He was a fierce advocate,” Wylie added. “And he had an incredible sense of humor.”

Wylie said Moeller used that humor to rein in lawmakers from the dais whenever discussions got too raucous.

“He would make some very understated, well-timed comment and everybody would just laugh. He would break the tension,” she said.

James Carl Moeller was born in Vancouver on July 2, 1955. After receiving a bachelor’s degree in psychology from Washington State University, he did his graduate studies in social work at Portland State University.

He was elected to the Vancouver City Council in 1995 and served there until he was elected as the 49th District state representative in 2002. Moeller served in the Legislature from 2003 to 2017. He was named speaker pro tempore of the Washington House of Representatives in 2011.

In addition to his time in office, Moeller worked as an addiction councilor at Kaiser Permanente for 27 years.

Perhaps best known by some for his love of colorful bow ties, Moeller was one of the state’s first openly gay lawmakers and was a trailblazer for the gay community in Vancouver and the state.

After Moeller was elected to the Legislature, former Vancouver Mayor Tim Leavitt was appointed to his seat on the city council. Although the two weren’t on the council at the same time, Leavitt said they worked together at times.

“We had many, many interactions over the years, both while I was a council member and as mayor,” Leavitt said. “Our interactions were always enjoyable and sometimes spirited.”

Leavitt said while Moeller was a passionate advocate for certain issues, he was never dogmatic or close-minded.

“He was always a consummate gentleman. He was always open to discussion and listening, understanding perspectives that we had,” Leavitt said. “I never once questioned his motivation or integrity, for that matter.”

Former Vancouver City Council candidate Mike Pond shared his thoughts on Moeller’s passing on Facebook.

“Legislator, ally, boss, mentor, confidant, friend. An elder statesman, a real class act. I always say ‘Jim paved the road, I now get to skip down!’ ” I’m forever in your fan club. Thank you, for all you did for so many,” Pond wrote.

During his time in the Legislature, Moeller served on numerous committees, including the joint Senate and House task forces on child support and public health financing. He was the co-chair of the Joint Committee on Veterans and Military Affairs and a member of the governor’s work group on licensing of mental health and abuse counselors.

Moeller was also actively involved in community organizations. He was a founding member of Clark County Pride and Hands Off Washington. Moeller served on the YWCA Diversity Task Force, Clark County’s methamphetamine task force, Washington End of Life coalition and was chair of the Southwest Washington Health District Board of Directors, among many others.

As word of Moeller’s passing spread, lawmakers and others who knew Moeller turned to social media to express their sympathies, including state Sen. Ann Rivers, R-La Center.

“While Jim and I have equal and opposite political DNA, he always treated me with respect and dignity. I, in return, treated him the same,” Rivers said in a Facebook post. “More importantly, the way he treated my son, Derick, while he was a page in Olympia and my husband Fred trying to navigate his way in Olympia was always with Love!!! A lovely human being and a dear friend.”

In another Facebook post, former Washington State Democratic Party Chair Tina Podlodowski said, “We lost one of the OGs in Washington LGBTQ politics and a terrific guy. Godspeed Jim Moeller — rainbow bow ties in heaven tonight.”

In a post on its Facebook page, the Clark County Democrats said, “Jim was a fine example of service to one’s community. His kind heart and dedication will be a lesson that those who seek elected office would be wise to follow.”

Moeller and other former lawmakers who passed away during the past year will be honored by the Legislature during a special memorial session on March 15.

Known for his association with Francis Ford Coppola, Werner Herzog and many others, he was also a founder of the Telluride Film Festival.

om Luddy, a quietly influential film archivist and movie producer who was also a founder of the idiosyncratic Telluride Film Festival, died on Feb. 13 at his home in Berkeley, Calif. He was 79.

The cause was complications of Parkinson’s disease, said Julie Huntsinger, executive director of the Telluride festival, a half-century-old gathering of cinephiles held in a tiny former mining town in Colorado.

A transplant from the East Coast, Mr. Luddy landed in Berkeley in the 1960s, just in time to join the radical political activity that was afoot there, notably the Free Speech Movement that dominated the University of California campus in 1964.

He worked at the Berkeley Cinema Guild, a two-screen art house that had once been managed by the film critic Pauline Kael, after which he ran the Telegraph Repertory Cinema, another art-house theater, and joined the Pacific Film Archive, part of the U.C. Berkeley Art Museum, which he turned into a vital resource for film devotees and scholars.

By the early 1970s he was organizing as many as 800 programs there each year, from Preston Sturges retrospectives to programs of Russian silent films, new German cinema and movies from Senegal. He presented the United States premiere of Werner Herzog’s “Aguirre, the Wrath of God,” a Conradian tale starring Klaus Kinski as a Spanish conquistador who sets out to find a lost city in Peru, after it had been rejected by the New York Film Festival.

As director of special projects for Francis Ford Coppola’s company American Zoetrope, he produced movies like Paul Schrader’s “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters” (1985), a complicated film about Yukio Mishima, the eccentric Japanese author who killed himself publicly in 1970 — a passion project that Mr. Schrader has described as “the definition of an unfinanceable project.” Mr. Luddy was its tireless booster and supporter, funding it early on with his American Express card.

In an email, Mr. Schrader described Mr. Luddy as “the big bang of film consciousness.”

He had a capacity for connecting artists to ideas, and to one another, that went beyond mere networking; it was a kind of vocation. The New York Times called him a human switchboard.

It was Mr. Luddy who suggested that Agnès Varda, the French New Wave filmmaker who was in Berkeley in the late 1960s, document the Black Panthers’ efforts to free the Panther leader Huey P. Newton from prison in 1968; her sobering portrait of the activists and their mission captured in two half-hour films is an urgent record of those fractious times.

When Laurie Anderson set out to make “Heart of a Dog,” her 2015 meditation on love and loss, and wanted to learn how to make an essayistic film, Mr. Luddy asked her to phone Philip Lopate, the film critic and essayist, for a tutorial.

It was a measure of Mr. Luddy’s influence, The Times noted in 1984, that he showed “The Italian,” a 1915 film that is considered a model for the immigrant-gangster epic, to Mr. Coppola before he made “The Godfather,” and “I Vitelloni,” Federico Fellini’s 1953 film about a group of young men on the brink of adulthood drifting about in a small Italian village, to George Lucas before he made “American Graffiti.”

And it was Mr. Luddy who introduced Alice Waters, his girlfriend at the time, to the work of Marcel Pagnol, the French filmmaker, in particular “Marius,” “Fanny” and “César,” the trilogy he produced in the 1930s about a group of friends finding their way in Marseille. That inspired the name of Ms. Waters’s restaurant Chez Panisse, the Berkeley institution that ignited the farm-to-table movement.

“We saw the films on three consecutive nights and I cried my eyes out, they were so romantic,” Ms. Waters recalled in a phone interview. “I knew I wanted to name the restaurant after one of the characters. We talked about Marius, Fanny’s lover, and Tom said, ‘Oh no, it has to be after that kindly man who married Fanny, and that was Panisse. And besides, he was the only one who made any money.’”

Chez Panisse would go on to global fame, but it remained Mr. Luddy’s dining room, where he could collect like-minded artists and watch the sparks fly. He and the restaurant also figured largely in a footnote to the moviemaking ethos of that decade, or at least of Mr. Luddy’s cohort, captured in an affecting short film by Les Blank called “Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe.”

As the story goes, Mr. Herzog challenged his fellow filmmaker Errol Morris to a bet, which was either a publicity stunt organized by Mr. Luddy or a genuine goad from Mr. Herzog: Mr. Herzog told Mr. Morris that if he succeeded in his seemingly quixotic mission to finish his first film, “Gates of Heaven,” a quirky, Gothic documentary about pet cemeteries, Mr. Herzog would eat his shoe. The movie was completed by 1978, and Mr. Luddy, Ms. Waters and Mr. Herzog set to work to honor the bet.

Ms. Waters decided, she said, that the best way to get the job done was to treat the shoe (a leather desert boot, actually) like a pig’s foot or a duck and braise it for hours in duck fat and herbs, which they did in her kitchen.

Later, at a screening of “Gates of Heaven” in 1979, Mr. Luddy played master of ceremonies as Mr. Herzog, with the aid of a pair of cooking shears, tackled his meal, which was laid out on a table on the theater’s stage. He bravely choked down a few bites, as did Mr. Luddy. Mr. Blank’s film is a touching, and very funny, ode to art-making, and also to the skillful machinations of Mr. Luddy.

In 1974, Mr. Luddy and a group of friends, Stella and Bill Pence and the film historian James Card, conceived a film festival to be held over three days in September in the picturesque former mining town of Telluride, Colo. (Bill Pence died in December.)

There would be no prizes, no angling for distribution, no marketing, no paparazzi and no red carpets — just an almost inconceivable amount of screenings, talks and shenanigans. They would show old films and new, local films and foreign, and art films as well as more popular fare, the offerings curated according to the organizers’ own appetites and interests. There would be guest curators from outside the film word, too, like Salman Rushdie, Don DeLillo, Rachel Kushner and Stephen Sondheim.

You might find Louis Malle at the bar, Robert Downey Sr. declaiming in the town’s plaza that plots were dead, Mr. Herzog and Barbet Schroeder playing table football. Mr. Lopate recalled that during the festival’s first year he found himself on an elevator with Leni Riefenstahl, the Nazi propagandist, and Gloria Swanson. The two women were trading health secrets involving sesame seeds.

“It mixes new directors and old ones — the venerable King Vidor is here this year — actors, distributors, scholars and the bristly and ardent society of film buffs,” The Times wrote in 1976. “Everyone is available to everyone else — names and no‐names, young and old — up to the point of exhaustion and past it.”

In 2016, A.O. Scott of The Times described the festival, then in its fifth decade, as “a gathering of the faithful, consecrated to the old-time cinephile religion,” adding: “The local school gym and a hockey rink on the edge of town are temporarily converted into what screening M.C.s unironically refer to as cathedrals of cinema. Everyone is a believer.”

Mr. Luddy might have been cinema’s most fervent believer, as well as its main officiant. The festival reflected his tastes, which were, as David Thomson, the San Francisco-based British film critic and historian, said, “both catholic and universal.” But, he added, “friendship was Tom’s art, really. He was unlimited in his wish and ability to help people in the broad area of film, and he did it without any ulterior motive, which is not common in the movie world.”

Thomas William Luddy was born on June 4, 1943, in New York City, and grew up in White Plains, N.Y., raised by staunch Democrats in what had been a monolithically Republican community. His father, William Luddy, who had worked in newspaper advertising and founded a national merchandise reporting service, was campaign manager for various candidates and, finally, chairman of Westchester County’s Democratic Party. His mother, Virginia (O’Neill) Luddy, was a homemaker and political volunteer.

At the University of California, Berkeley, Tom studied physics and then literature, graduating with a B.A. in English. He also ran a film society and played on the varsity golf team.

Mr. Luddy is survived by his wife, Monique Montgomery Luddy; his brothers, Brian, James and David; and his sister, Jeanne Van Duzer.

Although Mr. Luddy spent most of his time behind the scenes, he did appear in one movie: Philip Kaufman’s 1978 remake of “Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” in which he played to the creepy hilt one of the first humans to metamorphose into a pod person.

“Ah, the ubiquitous Tom Luddy,” The Times quoted a member of a film crew as saying in 1984. “It always seems like there were three or four of him!”

Pat Torpey, drummer of Mr Big has passed away at the age of 64. He had been suffering from Parkinson’s disease.

I live on a different continent, so sadly I won’t be there. From 2009-11, I was the bass technician on tour for Mr Big. Pat was my friend in that time and I’ll miss him. This is hard to write but I’d really like to do him tribute.

Pat was born in Cleveland, Ohio but moved to Phoenix, Arizona as a teenager. A love of his music and the lure of the bright lights brought him to LA in the early 1980s, where he picked up session, TV and touring work for a million artists including Ted Nugent, John Parr, Bob Geldorf, Belinda Carlisle, Robert Plant, Chris Impelliteri and even former WHAM! star Andrew Ridgley.

It was while playing with The Knack, of ‘My Sharona’ fame, that Billy Sheehan and Paul Gilbert first saw Pat in action and asked him to audition for the new band they were forming together with vocalist Eric Martin. This of course, became Mr Big.

Pat’s role in Mr Big was often overlooked. While Billy and Paul stole the limelight with their fretboard antics and Eric Martin stole the little girls’ hearts, Pat was doing the hard work in the background.

I truly believe that in many ways Pat saved Mr Big. You see, Pat had all his drum chops down, double kick techniques, stick spinning etc etc but he also had this amazing groove…

All drummers who can basically play in time have some kind of groove. Some have it different or better than others. Essentially, a good groove makes the listener tap their foot along at first listen. Pat had a truly awesome groove.

Quite often this separates a good band from an outstanding band. Mr Big would have been a good band without Pat’s groove, a very good band actually, but with him they were truly outstanding.

Try listening to this and unconsciously you’ll find yourself tapping your foot along. That’s Pat’s groove.

His contribution to the band didn’t end there though. Mr Big is a band that’s founded not only on excellent rhythmic musicianship but also on melody and harmony. Pat was a singing drummer. Thus all the members of Mr Big sing, giving them a three part harmony underlying Eric’s lead on hits such as ‘Green Tinted Sixties Mind’, ‘Just Take My Heart’ and of course their biggest worldwide single, ‘To Be With You’.

In fact, Pat’s vocals were in big demand on the LA session scene. Did you know that it’s Pat Torpey that you hear singing the chorus of ‘Girls, Girls, Girls’ on the Mötley Crüe album of the same name?

Check out these backing vocals; this is Mr Big’s live cover of ‘It’s for You’ by Three Dog Night.

The first show I worked for Mr Big as a band (I’d worked for Billy Sheehan previously on other projects), was in Tallinn, Estonia in 2009. I had loved Mr Big as a teenager but seeing them gel onstage as a band from close up on the side of stage that first time was insane.

I don’t compliment the artists that I work for every night as a matter of habit. That gets dull – I see a lot of gigs per week when I’m on tour. I only ever comment if I witness something really outstanding. That night was one such event.

As they came offstage, I said to Pat something like: “Wow, great show!”

“Don’t blow smoke,” he said and walked past. If you’re unfamiliar with the phrase, it’s a rather crude Americanism for “don’t flatter me”.

I was a bit put aback. But the more I got to know of saw of him, the more I saw how in character that was. He was a very self effacing guy in many respects and didn’t like a fuss.

I remember at one Mr Big gig Pat’s floor tom fell over. His drum tech, Jason Kocis, couldn’t see it as he was on the other side of stage. I went over to pick it back up but Pat shooed me away.

After the gig he said: “Don’t worry about things like that. I can deal with it.”

“You can’t pick up a floor tom while playing a song. I am kind of doing a job here”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.”

I don’t know if I’ve ever met another drummer that laid back onstage. No fuss.

Mr Big would often have an instrument swapping jam at the end of a show; yes, Pat was a passable guitarist and bass player too. On these occasions, he’d borrow a random plectrum from my toolkit. Then at the end of the song, he’d bring me back the pick.

“No,” I’d say, “you’re supposed to throw it out into the crowd!”

One night in Brazil he did this and I prompted him back to the front of the stage and got him to throw the pick out. Of course the fans went crazy trying to grab for it but Pat would have preferred no fuss.

I will always remember long chats with Pat over dinner on politics, on which he was very well read, American history, another favourite of his was the Lincoln Presidency, and most of all, music. I quizzed him over his playing on the Chris Impelliteri album with Graham Bonnet singing and his time touring with Robert Plant, which being a big Zeppelin fan, he’d loved every minute of. Throughout our conversations he was always wise, witty and humble.

After a show in Osaka, as we started the 2011 tour, he told me he thought that he hadn’t played so well. At the time I assumed this was simply more modesty from him. I told him honestly that he sounded great to me, though I now knew better than to press the point.

But he said that he could feel something was wrong. He had a numbness in his hands and one leg that wasn’t quite responding the way it should.

He said, he’d been for some tests back home but that nothing was conclusively diagnosed at that point. I brushed it off at the time but looking back now I see that this was the start of it all.

As far as I was concerned he played great every night of that tour. We went across Asia, Europe and South America and he and the band ripped each and every night, I thought. We finished the world tour in Istanbul, Turkey and went our ways.

Then I saw the press release in 2014. Pat had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. I’d heard of it before but read up more online to check my facts and find it’s a long term degenerative neurone disease. Not good for a drummer. Not just something to brush off with no fuss.

I worried for him and sent a supportive email but heard nothing back.

Full credit to Mr Big as a band. They rallied around their fallen comrade. In his physical state, clearly he couldn’t play his former glories such as ‘Colorado Bulldog’ any more but he was still an essential part of the band. He was very much the vibemeister and often the voice of reason between healthy differences of opinion in band politics, as I saw them.

So the lovable Matt Starr, also of Ace Frehley’s band, was hired in as the drummer for the bulk of the gigs while Pat still played a few songs and added percussion and his trademark vocal harmonies to others.

I went to see them at Koko in London on that tour. On the way in, I bumped into Pat at the stage door. We hugged and he held me tight but I could feel the muscle wastage on his back. He was always so healthy and well toned before.

He sat me down and told me how it had all hit him. He apologised for not replying to my email but said that he had an initial period of depression after the diagnosis. Then with the support of friends and family, through determination and strength of character he had resolved to carry on, make the most of life and he began to make jokes with his son about his tremors rather than try hide them.

Oh boy, was it good to see Pat.

Three months ago, I caught up with Mr Big again at a couple of UK shows, London and Wolverhampton. Pat was now just playing one song in the set, ‘Just Take My Heart’. He told me he couldn’t tour with the band after this any more. It was just exhausting him.

I hugged him goodbye at Birmingham airport. I knew I’d probably never see him again but I didn’t think he would leave us this soon.

Pat leaves behind his wife Karen and son Patrick Jnr. Pat and I went shopping together for our kids in the Tokyo toyshops. We both missed our boys on tour. My thoughts are with them at this time.

Tributes poured in from his bandmates, fans and peers. Graham Bonnet, Richie Kotzen, Carmine Appice, Matt Sorum, Derek Sherinian, Mike Portnoy, Phil Soussan, Steve Lukather, Paul Stanley and Joe Lynn Turner all said what a great drummer and much loved friend Pat was.

Billy Sheehan led with: “Pat Torpey has been my closest friend in music for over thirty years. Pat was one of the finest human beings I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing, and the honor of working with, surely one of the finest rock drummers the world has ever known.”

Perhaps the most touching tribute I read online was an open letter to Pat written by a Korean fan, Sujin Lee.

“Dear Pat,

“It’s me, Sujin. How are you doing up there?

“It’s been only a few days but I do hope everything is much better than here. Cause, like many others, I’m still having awfully hard times to take it as real that you’re not here anymore.

“I know, to you, I’m just one of millions of fans around the world but to this forever-16 fan, you were not just one amazing, talented musician/drummer. You ARE much much more than that. Just like the other BIG guys.

“I still remember when I first met you in person in freezing Seoul, 22 years ago. You were shining so brightly with that big beautiful smile and unbelievably nice to this crazy little kid who took a four hour train ride and waited all day long at the airport only to say hello to her favourite band. I wish I could go back then just once again.

“Since then, we’ve had such a great time. What a ride it has been! There were some downs for sure but you were always right there, in control. You never let me down. You were always cool and made me feel everything is/will be ok.

“Do you remember that you wrote me an email when there was a huge earthquake in Japan while I was living there all by myself? I was scared to death, I really thought I was going to die at that moment. I was terrified and couldn’t calm down… and then I got this mail from you.

“You asked me if I was ok and said you worried about me. You’ll never know how it helped me go through those hard times. You might think it was just a mail. But I never expected something like that cause you’re a big rock star and I’m just a little fan.

“But that was only one of all the things you’ve done to me.

“Pat, thank you so much for everything. Thank you for your amazing music, passion and courage. Thank you for all those memories, love, kindness, smiles and hugs. Thank you for inspiring me to want to be a better person. You taught me never giving up and I’m trying to, not to let you down.

“And thank you for being you, my wonderful hero Pat Torpey.

“Big Love Always, Sujin”

We’re all missing you, Pat.

Published in Music Times

Steve Zachary joined Jesus in Heaven on Christmas Day 2022 after a 7 year battle with Parkinson’s and 3 years with PD dementia. 

Steve was born in 1955 in Eugene, Oregon. He attended school in Springfield and Grants Pass, Oregon as well as in Alberta, Canada where his dad was attending Prairie Bible Institute.  Upon returning to the United States, his dad became pastor of a church in Madras, Oregon and Steve attended Madras High his last two years.  

Steve worked for Anderson Farms and in 1976 married the farmer’s daughter, Kathleen Anderson.  They were married for 46 years.  Steve worked various jobs in his life including farming and retail but his favorite jobs were men’s clothing buyer for Hatfield’s Department Stores and swathing for Warkentin Farms in Christmas Valley. Steve and Kathleen had 4 children and 18 grandchildren which were the light of his life.  

Steve loved teasing his nieces and nephews, water-skiing, playing basketball, and most of all spending time with his wife, kids, and grandkids, especially at hunting camp and at their winter home in Thousand Palms, CA. He traveled to Canada, El Salvador, and Mexico and spent a summer working at a Christian camp in Panama with Kathleen and the kids. Most of his grandchildren remember his ear pinches, trips to Dairy Queen in Madras, and encouragement to follow Jesus. 

In late 2015 Steve was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease and in 2018 after having to retire from Madras Marine, he and Kathleen moved to Christmas Valley, Oregon while continuing to spend winters at their place in Thousand Palms, California.  Sadly, his Parkinson’s progressed rapidly followed by Parkinson’s dementia. In early December of 2022 he entered memory care in Redmond, Oregon but was only there for 16 days before he was transferred to Partners in Care Hospice House in Bend where he passed away. 

Steve is survived by the love of his life Kathleen, as well as his children and grandchildren.  He’s also survived by his mother, 5 siblings and many much loved nieces and nephews.