Here's a toast to a guy named Steve,
He's had a life you'll scarce believe:
Places he's been, and stuff he's done;
His lifelong book would weigh a ton!
But I will try in brief to say
Some things about his life today.
In Minnesota he was born,
Perhaps it was a frosty morn.
At any rate his Preacher Dad--
A wand'ring itch he always had—
Miami south he moved his bunch;
They never even stopped for lunch!
Seattle next was home to Steve,
But soon thereafter they would leave.
To Jacksonville his family went
His Dad, he barely had a cent.
Old Ted--his Dad--he trusted God,
As cross the country they did plod.
A capsized trailer; tires blown out;
Left poor Young Stevie full of doubt.
They made it, though, to Jacksonville.
They all were healthy; not one ill.
The war years there were spare and lean
And offshore Nazi subs were seen
But vict'ry gardens got them through
And better days would come they knew.
Then to Atlanta next they moved:
A move I'm sure they all approved.
Doc Smith’s drug store did once employ
Young Stephen as delivery boy
On Cushman scooter he would fly
'Round Little Five Points and nearby.
The days in Georgia numbered were
Their constant moving seemed a blur
Soon T. J. Spier informed the clan--
Including even newborn Dan--
Saskatchewan would be the place
The Spiers would try to find some space.
Which wasn’t difficult out there.
The western plains had lots of air,
And frost and flies and even heat;
Their nasty climate can’t be beat.
But Steve secured some part-time work:
A farm machinery warehouse clerk.
I’m running out of space and time,
And pretty soon there’ll be no rhyme.
But sadly hasten on I must;
Your patience will endure I trust.
Steve finished up his high school years
In St. Paul once again, my dears.
At Minnehaha (that’s no joke!)
A prep school year for our young bloke.
A part-time job to pay his board
Was pumping gas, but, oh, my Lord!
Some robbers beat him up real bad!
To tell the story makes me sad.
It made the young lad very tough.
The crooks were jailed, and that’s enough!
Then Spokane, Washington, became
The temporary home to claim.
Steve had jobs of various styles:
He lifted, loaded, travelled miles.
He climbed big poles and spliced some wires;
Along the way he quenched some fires
Of lovelorn maidens that he met;
Perhaps such things I should forget!
Korean War next reared its head;
Steve faced at once the draft board dread.
Selective Service you could use:
The branch of service you could choose.
So Coast Guard duty was his choice.
To “Aye, aye, Sir!” he gave his voice.
And here on this Memorial Day,
We salute his service and we say,
“Thanks from all of us to you,
We still are free, and it’s all due
To servicemen and women brave,
Who sacrificed themselves to save
The greatest nation on the earth:
The Face of Freedom from its birth.”
When Coast Guard life was finally through,
Steve had to figure what to do.
He sold some cars and boats awhile,
But those jobs didn’t fit his style.
But then a simple wedding dance
Led Stevie boy to hot romance.
Young Eleanor, a flag corps girl,
Young Stephen gave a dizzy twirl!
Then married they became, you see.
Together still live happily.
Steve worked at many jobs those years,
While making ends meet for the Spiers.
He worked at Lockheed twice ‘tis true,
He went to night school classes, too.
Insurance sales he gave a shot.
To me I think he sold a lot!
The field that gave him his best start
Was drafting, which was very smart,
For I’m an artist, but I’ll say,
His graphic drawings far outweigh
My scratchy outlines by a ton!
At any rate, his drafting skill
Allowed him access to fulfill
A dream career, and nothing less,
Full of promise and success.
Lithonia Lighting, east of town,
Was where old Stephen gained renown.
From draftsman to technician of
The R and D staff, then above,
To manager of testing lab,
And then a new deal he would grab:
A new department was his thing,
A Market Applications wing.
This worked real well, but then Steve went
To field sales—this was heaven-sent--,
For then the engineers could see
What they thought then could never be:
First-class knowledge from the man
Who know how lighting really ran.
The company sales went through the roof,
And Steve Spier’s foresight given proof.
People skills had helped old Steve
Carve out a niche to work and weave
A solid place where all could see
His value to the company.
But family duty was not shirked;
The frugal couple scrimped and worked.
Their offspring grew by bounds and leaps,
Their grocery bills piled up in heaps!
First Lori, Dirk and Tanya came,
Then Dena, “Peewee” was her name.
Poor Eleanor toiled hard at life,
As teacher, mom, and cook and wife.
And Steve coached youth league football teams,
And helped Red Runners reach their dreams.
With grandkids then they both were blest.
Four fine young birds to crowd the nest.
Trevor, Cody, then Garrett came,
The last one Kinsey was by name.
Grandpa Steve is their best friend,
Their love for him—it knows no end.
Steve’s own dream then would soon come true;
One for which he sure was due:
By Steve’s name engineers marked “Yes”
For president of IES.
Worldwide travel far and wide,
Banquets lush for Steve and bride.
China, Russia, other places:
Lots of sights and different faces.
Steve had made it to the top
Of his profession near non-stop.
Great career, you must agree;
He did it all with no degree.
This story has gone on too long;
I probably got some details wrong.
In closing I would like to say
To Stephen Spier on his great day:
You’ve been a rock to those around;
A steady voice with logic sound.
A helpful hand for others’ needs;
A thoughtful eye for future deeds.
A tender heart, no matter what;
A big right foot for kicking butt!
Happy 80th Birthday, Big Brother.