Steve Keltner

The Memorial Service for Steve Keltner held May 23, 1999

10:00 a.m. The assembled group settled into silence.

Vera Elleson, Clerk of the meeting, rose and said, "Our meeting for worship today is a memorial service for Steven Emery Keltner, a member of our meeting, who passed away March 31, 1999. The meeting will proceed as follows: the obituary written by the family will be read; a poem written by Steve will be read; the family will have time to speak of Steve and his relationship to Penn Valley Meeting; the meeting will be open for memories of Steve to come from anyone among us. There will be times of silence as we meet here to honor this special man."

John Griffith read the obituary.

OBITUARY
Steven Emery Keltner
October 29, 1947 - March 31, 1999

Steven Emery Keltner, 51, formerly of Marshfield/Strafford, son of Wayne and Margaret Keltner of rural Strafford, left this earthly life to be with our Maker, March 31, 1999, at his home in Kansas City, MO. Steve was born October 29, 1947 in Freeport, IL. The family moved to Missouri in 1953.

Steve attended New Hope School (rural Fordland) and Marshfield Schools where he graduated in 1965. During this time in his life, he was a member of Good Shepherd Church of the Brethren, B-Square 4-H Club and the National Honor Society. His interest in school organizations were those dealing with social issues, student council and school betterment. He attended McPherson College, McPherson, KS and Penn College in Oskaloosa, IA, where he earned a place on the Dean's List. Not in sympathy with the Viet Nam conflict he opted instead to take an alternate choice, working at a nursing home in Buck County, PA.

At the time of his death he was a member of Penn Valley Meeting of the Society of Friends (Quaker) in Kansas City, MO.

In addition to his parents, three siblings and spouses survive him: Rick and Cheryl Keltner, Springfield, Patricia and Ed Hood, Hutchinson, KS, Priscilla and Randy Skeeters, Springfield. A niece and a nephew, Angela Keltner, Branson, and Richie Keltner, Springfield, survive as well as numerous relatives.

In September 1969, Steve was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. Thus began a life with doctors, social workers, hospitalizations, treatment and lessening of the ability to work. Later Steve shared with our family that he "knew at age 11" that he was different, but didn't know why. In 1965, as a college freshman psychology student, he correctly self-diagnosed himself. According to his wishes, Steve's body was donated to Kansas University Medical Research Center.

Steve was always concerned about the injustices of society. At an early age he tried to aid those he felt were hurting. He was interested in numerous charities and contributed to many. In lieu of flowers, we request you honor his memory by giving a gift to schizophrenia research: NARSAD, c/o NAMI of Southwest MO, 1504 N. Robberson, Springfield, MO 65803 or the charity of your choice.

As we grieve for Steve, as we have for 30 years, we are grateful to God for releasing him from his earthly burden.

Steve's Family

LIFE

I walked and ran along the beaten trail.
Along the path I saw the grief and glad.
The day was early, dark, and I was pale.
I felt within myself the good and bad.

Is truth that man was made to be a quack?
Were we but made to chat, and trick, and lie?
The long and beaten road was to my back.
And now the sun was falling from the sky.

Now think! Was I but made to run and flee?
I stood; I thought; I said, "What is my goal?
What is it that my Maker wants of me?
And then I found my self to be my soul.

Throughout the past and in eternity,
0 God, I pray to be a part of Thee.

Then members of the family spoke. Steve's mother, Margaret pointed out the memory items they had brought for meeting folks to look at. She commented on Steve's sense of humor. Then she spoke of how she was envious that she didn't have more opportunity to see Steve in the way the meeting did. As a parent, there was the constant concern and feeling of responsibility that got in the way of enjoyment she and Wayne might have had.

Steve's father, Wayne, spoke of how the family had done the service held in Springfield themselves and he thought there would be some repetition of what they said then today. He expressed gratitude to Penn Valley Meeting.

Steve's "baby" sister Priscilla, spoke briefly of Steve. Sister Pat said that as she was thinking of reading something from the Bible that made her remember who Steve was, the Biblical piece that came to her was the 13th chapter of I Corinthians. She read that chapter to the meeting. She said it reminded her of Steve's charity and compassion for others. Rick expressed gratitude to the meeting for caring for Steve. He observed that many church groups would not have responded to Steve in the way Penn Valley Meeting had done.

Then in the open silence, others who spoke were:

Vera Elleson said she had often thought to herself and remarked to others as to what a gift Steve was to the meeting. His sense of humor and courage in the face of his illness was remarkable. Often he made short comments in worship and during query discussions that were simple, straightforward, not lengthy but really profound.

Reva Griffith read a poem she had written entitled "Missing Steve."

Missing Steve

I miss Steve,
I miss his eyes the color of the summer sky,
Sometimes happy; sometimes tormented,
I miss his hugs which warmed my heart,
I miss his laughter,
(How could one with such illness laugh,
but he did),
I miss his deep voice on the phone,
In recent e-mail years, often asking,
"Have you heard from Mom?"
I miss the lessons he unknowingly taught,
And I miss his presence,
A reminder of how the human spirit
Can survive tremendous odds,
And of how grace can grow under siege.
I miss all this,
Yet I already know he lives in my heart.

-- Reva Griffith

Luci Lee told how their family has recently been caught in the midst of life and death. Her father-in-law is dying and she is pregnant. As she took a nap one day recently she felt the child moving inside her. Then she was awakened by their 12-year-old daughter who had playfully put yellow lily pollen on her eyelids. She fell back asleep and awoke to the awareness that Rick, her husband, was lying beside her crying because of his father's illness. In that short space of time she felt a part of earth events as she does today celebrating the life and death of Steve.

Marty Dybicz spoke about how he had not known Steve long but had spoken with him a few times. He felt he really liked Steve and cared about him though he had never told him. Then he was pleased to find that when Steve asked for a clearness committee, he was one of the people Steve chose to be on the committee. He realized that Steve must have realized that Marty liked him since he was asked to serve on that committee. And he was pleased that he had given him that impression now that Steve is no longer here for Marty to tell of his esteem.

John Griffith said: "If Steve were here today and I asked when we first met Steve would probably be able to tell the place, the year, the day and very likely the hour. Steve was quite intelligent and had an amazing memory. Reva and I have been close to Steve for a good many years during which time Steve was in and out of the hospital. We began to notice a pattern. Steve would be released from the hospital and would get an entry level job some place. Before long his supervisor would realize that Steve's intelligence was far beyond the job his was doing and the supervisor would give Steve more responsibility. But the nature of Steve's illness was such that he could not cope with the additional responsibility. And Steve would admit himself to the hospital again.

"On one occasion when Steve had returned from the hospital, we suspected that he had not been taking his medication. I asked Steve if he had been taking his medicine as he should. And he replied: 'John, Do you know how many pills I have taken since I was diagnosed with Schizophrenia?' I said I didn't know, how many had he taken. And Steve answered that he had taken 12,574 or some such large number.

"There were times when Steve's schizophrenia would cause him to see things as reality that would be quite different from what you and I would see as reality. On occasion Steve would confide his perception of reality and then ask: 'What do you think, John? Is that the way things are?' I admired this ability to look objectively at his illness and to try to sort out what was true. His life was a constant struggle to live with integrity with schizophrenia. Steve was a good friend."

Rich Kauffman said he found Steve to be kind and gentle. When he came to meeting, it was obvious that he had problems, but he didn't carry them into meeting with him. Rich said, "I found him a comforting person to be around. I will miss Steve."

Minta Kenney spoke. Her message was: "About two weeks after I heard of Steve's death I was putting address labels on our newsletter, The Friendly Connection, when I noticed a blank label right before my name, that hadn't been blank before. I felt a shock as I realized that was where Steve's name and address had been, then even more so as it dawned on me that was about all I knew of Steve, besides his usual friendly face. He, like many others on the mailing list were more familiar to me as a name and address than as people to get to know, and I felt really sad that I hadn't taken the time to get to know him. I felt a resolve forming in me to put my self-consciousness aside and take the risk to approach people and try to find out who they are, and what their passions are. For this I am indebted to Steve, whose greatest gift to me came after his death. Thank you, Steve Keltner."

Barb Luetke-Stahlman spoke of Steve and Marcy, their adopted daughter from Bulgaria. The day they got four-year-old Marcy from the airport was a Sunday and they brought her directly to the meetinghouse. Marcy had had one trial adoption which failed. In the orphanage in Bulgaria from which she came she had lacked close contact with people and as a result was alienated and untrained. And since she had a severe hearing loss, the Luetke-Stahlmans decided to adopt this young girl who had had limited opportunities. Steve was one of the first people here that she really liked and would go to. He would hold her, her long legs dangling and hug her. Over the years, they continued to have a bond. This is an unforgettable memory of Steve.

Nancy Blair Moon was not able to be present but later she shared a tender memory of Steve's 50th birthday celebration here at the meetinghouse. His family was present along with the people at meeting. One of the things Steve said was, "This is the happiest day of my life."

At the close of the meeting, the Clerk invited everyone to stay for a potluck lunch prepared by Friends in the meeting. During this time, visiting took place and we all enjoyed a social time together—chatting with one another, looking at Steve memorabilia, remembering Steve, and eating good food. The hope was expressed that the Keltners, with whom the meeting has become acquainted through our good fortune of having Steve among us for these many years, would visit the meeting from time to time.

This account was written mostly from memory. A few of the speakers were consulted about what they said and wrote their own accounts. Please forgive errors and incomplete remembrances. Any additions and corrections are encouraged.

- Reva Griffith

Remembering Steve

Sometimes he didn't come to meeting for weeks, or months. When he was there, occasionally John and I (and others) asked him to our homes for a meal. The bond grew. There was something about him — a vulnerability coupled with a strength — that drew us to him. When he would disappear for a time, he'd sometimes call from a mental hospital where he had gone, most often on his own volition. He seldom asked for anything from us. Said he called because he didn't want us to worry about him. He was like that too.

So many things to remember about Steve.

His sense of humor. One Christmas season, Steve invited John and me to a party in the halfway house where he lived. He told us about one of the residents who didn't like where the radiator in his room was located so he disconnected it with a hacksaw and moved it to a new location. Steve couldn't get over that: he chuckled all evening. He made some remark like, "Maybe that's why they think we're crazy!" Also, it wasn't unusual for him to tell a joke at other times.

Walking the city. In his early years in the city, he seemed fearless. He walked everywhere, especially in areas considered unsafe because that, as we learned over the years, was where most of the housing was available for the mentally ill. One night he was robbed and hit in the mouth with a chain. His teeth were damaged but more important was the damage to his psyche. His freedom to roam was challenged and he became more cautious about where and when he walked.

A few endearing stories. John likes to tell of the time, after we had known him for some years, when Steve asked John, "Do you have any idea how many pills I've taken in my life?" John said no and asked how many. With certainty, Steve gave a large number, said he had thought back on his illness and believed that was about right.

Then, upstairs in this building, there is what is now a rather shaky puppet show stage. It was Steve's idea for the children. With the help of a handy woman in the meeting, Nancy Brown, the stage was constructed. Many children have enjoyed using it.

And the bus trips. Steve went through a time when he was less ill, where he took bus trips. He would decide where he wanted to go (usually a good-sized city), ride there on the bus, stay a very short time, then get on the bus and come home. Any sleeping was done on the bus. For him, this was high adventure.

His birthday. He shared a birthday with our youngest son, Ben. He was though seven years older than Ben. He liked that connection. He would say, "Well, Ben and I are going to have a birthday in 100 days," or whatever the appropriate time was. His birthday was important to him. Several birthdays he asked if he could spend the night at our house. Sometimes he was awake all night. We would learn this in the morning. He never disturbed us with his wakefulness. He spent the night before his last birthday in our house. We learned in the morning that he had tried to stay awake because he feared he might die. He fell asleep in spite of his efforts.

His illness. The illness robbed him of a normal life. The kind and dosage of his medication was in a constant flux. Because of the illness, he had a way of restless pacing. It was as if he were trying to outwalk the voices or thoughts that besieged him at times. Once he explained to me that sometimes he felt compelled to be on the move. At times his lips moved as he talked quietly with some inner voice. Occasionally he confided some of his fears and thoughts to John. More than once he asked John if he thought he (Steve) was the Messiah. And John usually told him he didn't think so, but that he loved Steve Keltner. That seemed to satisfy him. With the tricks his body and mind played on him, I often thought how much courage it must have taken to get up in the morning to face whatever was in store for him that day.

His life. It was hard, but somehow he managed to forge a life for himself in the midst of all this. I don't believe I ever heard him complain about his fate. In addition to his friends at Penn Valley, he had friends among others who were mentally ill and his caseworkers thought well of him. He sometimes brought his friends from wherever he was living to meeting, and he seemed anxious that they feel at home in this place that meant so much to him.

Steve and Penn Valley Meeting. He attended Penn Valley Meeting for a number of years before he became a member in May 1991. All of us have probably heard him speak of the meeting as his "spiritual home." Becoming a member meant a great deal to him. He participated more in meeting for worship and in discussions after he became a member. Recently he was present for a query discussion and made some thoughtful comments. Someone later remarked it was good to hear Steve's comments. I suppose others may have felt as I did - that whatever Steve said came from a special place. There was an honesty about him, a lack of artifice, that was endearing and unforgettable.

At the funeral of John's brother who had MS for years and died of cancer, the minister, a friend of his, said Bill was an exquisite man. I wondered about that and found when I looked it up in the dictionary that one meaning of "exquisite" is choice. That fit Bill. It fits Steve too. He was an exquisite man.

- Reva Griffith