Life Lessons and Travels

Stephen D. Evans, An Autobiography

Copyright © 2022 by Stephen D. Evans

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Introduction/

Acknowledgements

Some of us realize what we have while others don’t. Priorities for the masses seem skewed toward materialism. Are we individuals following our own path or lemming-like creatures influenced through the likes of social media and characters claiming to have all the answers?

Far be it from me to pretend to have the explanations. However, I do believe that my life experiences, as outlined in this book, provided me with a solid foundation. Life struggles, opportunities, and reality impressed upon me the importance of certain traits. Early on, I developed the habit of checking claims out for myself. Simple enough and mostly accomplished through keeping up with current events verified through reliable media sources.

The traits I’ve learned to be most beneficial to life are belief in God, honesty, genuineness, loyalty, and responsibility. It took me a while to realize that God was in my corner and is a true Father to us all. Several God-guidance examples are in this life story. The most prevalent was his leading me to my wife Sandie. Both of us had difficult marriages preceding our involvement. If the timing hadn’t been what it was and Sandie wasn’t given the patience to wait for me, I would have missed out on the love of my life. A truer partner there couldn’t be. She’s my best friend, lover, and companion. At the writing of this book, we’ve been together over thirty years, and my love for her continues to grow daily. Only God!

This book is dedicated to my family—my wife Sandie, my daughter Janette, my older son Shawn, my younger son Scott, and my two new-daughters Olivia and Julie. Family is important to me. All have brought significant meaning to my life and for this I’m truly grateful. To date, Sandie and I have been blessed with eight grandchildren. Julie and Kenny, thank you for Amanda, Kenny Jr, Taylor, and Matt. Olivia and Cesar, thank you for CJ & Emily. Scott and Berna, thank you for Deacon. Shawn and Yucco, thank you for Axel. May life be as blessed to all of you as it has been to me!

Everyone mentioned in this book contributed to my life experiences in one way or another and for that I thank them. Special thanks go out to my wife Sandie who supported me during this project and provided her superb proofreading skills. It’s my hope that readers find enjoyment in one fortunate individual’s life path with experiences, good or bad, that I would not have changed for anything.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 | Ancestors |

Chapter 2 | 1946–1955 |

Chapter 3 | 1956–1965 |

Chapter 4 | 1966–1975 |

Chapter 5 | 1976–1985 |

Chapter 6 | 1986–1995 |

Chapter 7 | 1996–2005 |

Chapter 8 | 2006–2015 |

Chapter 9 | 2016–2017 |

Chapter 10 | 2018–2019 |

Chapter 11 | 2020–2022 |

Chapter 1 | Ancestors

My Grandmother

My grandmother was born in Franklin, Indiana, on August 16, 1897. Marjory Huffman Young Strobel lived to be eighty-three years old, passing away on the island of Maui, Hawaii, on June 11, 1981. The one word that comes to mind when I think of her is regret. Regret, as my grandmother was a heroine to me and I regret not having spent more time with this wonderful person, getting to know her and our family heritage better. The one word I’d use to describe her character is principled.

She was a loving, caring person but stood by her principles for the benefit of those around her. It was all the more troublesome for her as she was a single parent during the challenging years of raising my mother and uncle. She married her first husband, John Sandy Young, when she was twenty-four years old. Grandmother lost her first husband a scant seven years into their marriage, leaving her with two young children, ages six and two. Her second husband, Ralph J. Strobel, loved and wanted to marry her but she insisted on waiting until her two children were older and more set in their life choices before remarrying. Grandmother waited until mother was nineteen before remarrying and was married to her second husband for thirty years, before he passed in 1975. In retrospect, I’d say that my behavior mirrored her principled behavior while raising my children. On occasion after occasion, the handling of my children’s behavior was not the easy way out but rather reflected what would hopefully prepare them for adulthood.

Grandmother was ahead of her time in many ways. During the Second World War, she became a draftsman. In our current world, she’d be referred to as a draftswoman to point out that she was filling a role that was traditionally a man’s job. She was active throughout her life, working in her profession until retiring at the age of sixty-six. My mother and uncle characterized her as having a wonderful sense of humor, a smile for everyone, and always setting a good example.

Full disclosure—the below account is based on conversations with other family members and friends and not from a direct accounting by grandmother:

My mother met my paternal father when she was approximately eighteen years of age. Paul James Thayer was in the navy at the time and was a handsome man with an engaging personality. Grandmother didn’t feel he would adequately provide for mother or that the marriage would last. Besides which, she wanted more for mother (college) as she entered the prime of her life. Mother fell head over heels for him. In retrospect, I’d say this was one of the happiest periods of life for my mother as I have a photo of her with a genuinely happy smile on her face. Grandmother’s position on the relationship was that if mother continued, She’d have to sleep in the bed she made. In other words, continuation of the relationship wouldn’t receive support from grandmother. The rest, as they say, is history as mother married my bio-father, Paul J. Thayer, and had me, creating other challenges mentioned later in this book as the marriage was indeed short-lived.

A special treat for my brother and me was visiting grandmother and Ralph Strobel (her second husband) at their country home outside of Greencastle, Indiana. The entrance to their home was off a one-lane road onto a gravel driveway that dipped down into a gully. Once we turned into grandmother’s driveway, we looked for their dogs that welcomed us with wagging tails while acknowledging our entrance. Our minds drifted as we imagined the wonderful treats awaiting us in grandmother’s home. Grandmother was a magnificent cook and every meal she cooked seemed special. To this day, we remember the extraordinary cookies Grandmother would bake for special occasions and package in attractive tins.

Another admirable trait of my grandmother was communicating. To my knowledge, she never forgot a birthday, anniversary, or special occasion of a family member. Once in the family and known by her, you were always in her life. I remember my uncle Jack and his second wife Joanne divorcing around my senior year of high school. My aunt Joanne had two young sons from a previous marriage and Grandmother kept in touch with the three of them after the divorce. She wrote numerous letters and cards to family members and would always sign them God Loves You and so do I. I can’t help but believe that she’s now with God in his kingdom.

Left: Grandmother Marjory Young with her first Husband, John Sandy Young. Center: Uncle Jack, Grandmother, and Mother. Right: Grandmother.

My Mother

Despite my mother’s problems, there was never a doubt in my mind that she loved me. The first of two children, she was born Dorothy Jean Young on October 22, 1925. Mother lived seventy-one years, passing away on November 3, 1996. Having me so young presented Mother with a number of challenges.

She met and fell in love with my bio-dad, Paul James Thayer, marrying him over objections from her mother and soon thereafter had me. Grandmother wanted Mother to prepare for a better life at that point while having reservations about her husband-to-be. The short courtship and the first months of marriage to my dad was probably the happiest period of my Mother’s life. I left home for good at age sixteen and while I have a few memories of Mother’s happy days, they were by far the exception rather than the rule. I have an old photograph of her with my dad, taken during their courtship and Mother looks happier there than any other time I’ve witnessed.

My dad left Mother for another woman before my first birthday and Mother divorced him on December 2, 1946, a mere five months after my birth. I feel this absolutely crushed Mother, leading to a deep depression that she never fully recovered from for the rest of her life. I had very little contact with my dad following the separation during my formative years. Some of this was due to my dad’s character and some due to my Mother’s desire to keep me from him. While Mother held bitterness toward my dad as long as I can remember, she didn’t openly discuss him in front of me.

Being a single parent at such a young age in the mid-1940s presented a horrendous handicap for Mother. Society in general frowned on women in this category, classifying them as promiscuous. So much so that during my early toddler years, Mother seriously considered letting a distant relative living on a farm in the country adopt me. This never materialized for reasons unknown to me.

Mother married my stepfather, Forrest Harlan Evans, on October 21, 1949 when I was three years of age. My stepfather brought a one-and-half-year-old son into the marriage, Floyd Leon Evans. We initially lived in the city of Indianapolis, Indiana, but shortly after the marriage, my uncle Francis got my stepfather a job at the naval depot in the small Indiana town of Crane. The population of Crane, Indiana, as recently as 2014 was only 184. This wasn’t farm life but it wasn’t far from it.

We lived in Crane in the early 1950s for four to five years and one of my Crane memories of Mother pertained to a broken arm. During the fifth grade, I fell out of a tree and broke my right arm. Being right-handed, this handicapped my writing. Mother offered to and, in fact, wrote my homework for me during the entire period I was incapacitated. I certainly felt privileged at the time. Mother and my stepfather worked hard not to play favorites between my mother’s son and my stepfather’s son. However, being children, my stepbrother and I couldn’t help to feel that my stepfather favored him, while my brother thought Mother favored me, realistically or not.

Following Crane, Indiana, we moved back to the city, Indianapolis, Indiana. Mother was a homemaker for most of this period while I graduated from grade school #39 and attended my freshman and junior years of high school at Arsenal Technical there. She worked an odd job here or there to help make ends meet. One of the odd jobs I remember her having was as a laundromat attendant. I visited her there a couple of times and remembered being proud of her for running the laundromat. Mostly, I remember her during this period in a depressed state confined to her favorite chair in the living room reading magazines while smoking cigarettes and drinking Pepsi.

We didn’t do much together as a family. My stepfather worked two jobs as long as I can remember to provide for us. Mother and my stepfather were poor money managers and it seemed we were constantly in debt. One example of poor money management was our grocery purchases. While living on the near east side of town in Indianapolis, Indiana, on English Avenue, the majority of our grocery shopping occurred across the street from us at a ma-&-pa owned neighborhood convenience store. This meant we paid more for our daily needs than if we shopped at one of the major supermarkets.

Mother didn’t drive so on the rare occasion when we went anywhere as a family it was when my stepfather was off work and then it would be primarily to visit family. One memory of a family excursion sticks in my mind and was a testament to our constant lack of funds. The four of us went to a drive-in movie theater. Kids were free, so for my brother Floyd and me, there was no charge but adults were charged admission. My stepfather and mother worked it out where she would hide in the trunk of the car to get in without paying. Once we were inside the drive-in and settled, my stepfather removed mother from the car’s trunk.

My brother and I performed most of the household chores. We didn’t receive a weekly allowance so we either earned money on our own outside of home or asked Mother for money. Mother’s canned response would be to ask if all of our chores were done. It seemed she would inevitably find just one more task for us on such occasions. As my stepfather was working so much my mother became the disciplinarian. Her method was to warn my brother and me and then provide the ultimate threat of wait until your father gets home. My stepfather, being exhausted most of the time, didn’t take any time to determine whether what Mother said was true or not. If Mother said we were guilty of any offense my stepfather took the belt to us without hesitation. My brother Floyd and I received strict corporal punishment.

For the most part, my brother and I were on our own for meal preparation, which meant cereal for breakfast the majority of the time and sandwiches for lunch if we were home. We weren’t home for lunch much. On a typical day to avoid household chores, my brother and I would rise before Mother and leave the house for the day. We’d roust up neighborhood friends for baseball or sporting events at the park. One dinner memory is a pot of beans being made and kept on the stove for a week or so, which we helped ourselves to.

Mother was happiest when she was with my aunt Helen, her closest friend. Aunt Helen was married to one of stepfather’s brothers, George. My mother was normally with aunt Helen on the rare occasion that she’d go out. Aunt Helen drove, providing transportation for her and Mother.

Mother and my stepfather subsequently had two daughters in life. Marjie (named after my grandmother) was born in 1958 and Becky in 1964, providing me with two half-sisters from my mother’s side of the family. By second-hand accounts, this second family worked well initially, with my Mother and stepfather even attending church on a regular basis. However, a few years down the road saw them fall into similar life patterns that Floyd and I experienced minus the corporal punishment and level of household chore responsibility that my brother and I had.

During the period that Mother and my stepfather were raising their second family, I was deep into a hotel management career, causing me to move with my own family on numerous occasions. The geographical location of my family during the mid-sixties through the early eighties prevented a close relationship with my parents, meaning I didn’t get to experience the growth and development of my two half-sisters, and my parents didn’t have the opportunity to be close grandparents to my children.

Sometime in the 1970s, Mother and Father moved to Hawaii with the promise of a home to be given to them by my uncle Jack. For unknown reasons, the home exchange didn’t take place. Mother and my stepfather stayed in Hawaii until my stepfather passed away in 1980. Mother moved back to Indiana sometime after my grandmother’s passing in 1981.

When she returned from Hawaii, Mother lived primarily with my youngest sister Becky and her family on Arsenal Street in Indianapolis. Eventually, she was moved to an assisted living facility in relatively close proximity to Becky. Mother was diabetic and didn’t watch her health closely, which eventually led to more health problems for her. I was living in Chicago at the time as a single parent after going through a divorce from my second wife.

I was dating Sandie Sinck then, who would eventually (blessed that she waited for me) become my third wife. Sandie would accompany me on some Indiana trips to visit relatives on my side of the family. I tried to see Mother when visiting Indiana. Mother liked Chinese food and on one such visit in November of 1996 we brought her some Chinese food for lunch from one of her favorite Chinese restaurants. We stayed with my stepbrother Floyd and his family on that visit and early the following Sunday morning, on November 3, we received a telephone call informing us that mother had passed away from congestive heart failure. To this day, I’m grateful to God that we were in Indianapolis and saw her the day before she passed.

Left: Dorothy Jean Young’s High School Photo.

Center: Dorothy Jean Young and Paul James Thayer.

Right: Mother with her one-year-old son Stephen.

My Dad

Full disclosure—Most of what follows regarding my bio-dad is from secondary sources. My bio-dad left my mother before my first birthday and wasn’t really a part of my life during my formative years.

My dad, Paul James Thayer (nick-named PJ) was born in 1926 and died in 1993. His dad’s name was Francis Thayer and his mom’s name was Mary. My dad had three siblings, a sister named Marian, a brother named Charles, and another brother named Francis after his dad. Probably he and his siblings weren’t shown love, affection, or security reassurance during their childhoods. Apparently, alcoholism ran rampant in the family. Several of the Thayer children’s uncles were serious alcoholics.

According to Betty Bartlett (Buses), my stepmother, my dad’s second wife, his childhood environment probably fueled his actions as an adult. He had only a tenth-grade education, having gone to grade school’s Mc Kinley Elementary School 39 and to Arsenal Technical High School in Indianapolis through his sophomore year. While it’s believed that his sister Marian is still living, his brother Francis was killed at Luzon in World War II and his brother Charles committed suicide.

Paul Thayer joined the Navy when he was eligible. He met my mother Dorothy Young shortly after joining the Navy, sometime in 1945, and after a very short courtship they were married. I was their first and only child born July 18, 1946. My dad met his second wife sometime during 1946 and they married on February 22, 1947, a mere two months after his official divorce from my mother. My stepmother described him as handsome, likable, very clean, neat, and smart. They were married for ten years and eleven months although as his second wife states he wasn’t home enough for them to talk much. He broke a lot of hearts.

His short education coupled with early-sustained instability habits limited his employment options. After the Navy, he started work in a factory, which was short-lived, and held job after job with numerous unemployment periods in between. He had two daughters from his second marriage, Sheryl Thayer, born on June 3, 1947, and Sharon Thayer, born on July 5, 1949, providing me with two half-sisters from my dad’s side of the family.

He was in prison on at least one occasion when he was caught stealing money from one of my half-sister’s schools. In today’s world, he would probably have been diagnosed as bi-polar. His Veterans Administration documents revealed that he was neurotic and chemically dependent. His best friend, Bud Burleson, described him as being plagued by demons.

During my second marriage, my family and I visited him when we could in Indianapolis. He didn’t go out much at that juncture of his life and actually lived like a hermit, going out only for necessities. We did get him out on one of our Indianapolis treks. I secured tickets to an Indiana Pacers basketball game and encouraged him to go. I remember the two of us, along with my brother Floyd and brother-in-law Joe, had a grand time that evening. My bio dad was found dead by one of my half-sisters during the sixty-seventh year of his life, sitting up in a chair in his living room with the blinds drawn.

Paul Thayer and Me.

Sister Sheryl, her daughter Denise, Sister Sharon, Step-Mom Betty.

My Uncle

My uncle, John Sandy Young, was born on January 8, 1929, in Indiana and passed away on July 19, 1990, in Hawaii, at the age of sixty-one from metastatic carcinoma (cancer). He was named after his bio-father, Sandy Young, who’d passed away while my uncle was a toddler.

It’s not an understatement to say that my uncle turned my life around. He was a lifeline for me as a teenager, not realizing the wrong road I was traveling. He was living and working in Phoenix, Arizona, when I first lived with him. Following runaway incidents, numerous all-night adventures without my parents’ knowledge of my whereabouts, a stolen car incident, and other infractions, my mother had just enough of my shenanigans.

For her health, marriage, and her peace of mind, she convinced my uncle to let me live with him and do my sophomore year of high school in Arizona. This worked out well enough that my uncle also offered to take me in during my senior year of high school when he had later moved to Hawaii. He offered a waiting plane ticket for me in Los Angeles from Los Angles to Hawaii with the stipulations that I first make it to Los Angeles and then later work for him once in Hawaii to pay back the cost of the ticket.

My uncle went from high school to the Army before completing college. At twenty-two years of age on leave from the Army, he was driving home in bad weather and skidded on the road, ending up veering off the road into a creek with his vehicle turned upside down. The accident resulted in permanent paralysis to him from the waist down. I lived with him for two years and knew him for forty years and never once heard him complain of his handicap. He never let his handicap prevent him from enjoying life. Whether it was swimming without the use of his legs or playing ping-pong against the unhandicapped, he gave it his all preferring that his friends and the public didn’t pity him for his handicap.

The earliest memory I have of my uncle Jack was when I was around twelve years old. He had my stepbrother and I visit him and his wife in Chi­cago. My aunt was the most beautiful woman I had known to that point. Their accommodations were modest but gave me the impression of riches. They showed my stepbrother and me a wonderful time during the visit, which was for several days. My aunt took my stepbrother and me to see the Chicago White Sox play the Baltimore Orioles. To this day, I like the Chicago White Sox. They also took us to the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry, where a captured German submarine was and still is an exhibit. Who would know that some twenty-five years later I would be living in Chicago?

My uncle and aunt’s Arizona home was a modern three-bedroom, two-bath, and two-car garage house but it had seemed like a castle to me. They had an outdoor built-in swimming pool, which, due to the weather, could be swum in nearly all year-round, day or night. Their automobile was a later model convertible and I was impressed not only with the car but also the fact that they rarely had to put the top up. Their car was modified, so my uncle could drive it hands only using a stick lever by the steering column.

Following in the footsteps of his mother, he became an architect. His Arizona home had an office that he worked out of. Trying to emulate my uncle, I thought of becoming an architect for a brief period and unsuccessfully attempted mechanical drawing classes in high school. My uncle and aunt entertained regularly, always including me in their dinners and get-togethers. Several of their friends they knew from college were handicapped. My uncle went to Purdue University and for its accessibility features transferred to the University of Illinois at Urbana Champaign where he graduated. The University of Illinois at Urbana Champaign is one of the most accessible college campuses in the world.

He was a life model to me and after a few months into my new living arrangement, I realized that there was so much more in life than I had been exposed to. Witnessing his success in spite of his handicap modeled to me a better lifestyle. His drive and passion for life encouraged me to reach higher in life.

My uncle was always improving himself. He was a Bridge Life-Master early on and participated in Bridge tournaments all around the United States for bridge Master Points. He taught me the game and playing with him I won a Master Point. While living with him in Phoenix, I was able to earn some money by going with him and working at local Bridge Tournaments. He also belonged to a national organization called Toastmasters. They met regularly and were required to prepare and give a speech once a month. He loved his mother, my grandmother, and made sure she was taken care of after his stepfather passed away. Years after the passing of his stepfather, he moved his mother from Indiana to Hawaii to be closer to him.

He wasn’t particularly close to his sister, my mother, but was obviously close enough to take me in on two separate occasions. To this day, I remember an evening with him, which made a lasting impression. We were in Phoenix and it was later in the evening when we just started conversing about life and my troubles. We talked most of that night and not only did I feel listened to but also extremely valued as an individual as in my mind at that time I was the most important person to him.

On another occasion, we were traveling between Arizona and Indiana and he let me drive for long distances at a time even though I didn’t have my driver’s license. I never once doubted the trust and confidence he had in me, which made me believe in myself even more.

After his divorce from Sandy, he moved from Arizona to Hawaii. I felt bad for him that he was losing our beautiful aunt and often wondered why. He never divulged the reasoning but I subsequently learned that my aunt was seeing another gentleman and became pregnant by him.

This led me to hypothesize that my aunt wanted a child or children of her own, which my uncle, due to his handicap, was unable to provide. His move to Hawaii was accelerated by the gift he got from one of his friends, which was a TV station on the island of Maui. At the time, his friend, Cecil Heftel, owned the island-wide KGMB TV affiliate. My uncle worked the station for a few years while designing and building his dream home on the Big Island of Hawaii. These were exciting times in Hawaii, as the state had just recently become the fiftieth state of the union.

Shortly after moving to Hawaii, my uncle remarried. His second wife, Joanne, had two sons from a previous marriage. Joanne, Steve, and David were part of the household when I joined them for my senior year of high school. While retaining the life-experiences learned in Arizona, this visit didn’t go as well. My uncle and new wife, for reasons unbeknownst to me, were not getting along. This coupled with the antics of a hormone-raging sixteen-year-old (me) who still had a few exploits up his sleeve, like drag-racing their automobile late at night, led to my uncle suggesting that I quit high school in favor of joining the army. This led to a disagreement between us, and I subsequently lived with others to finish my high school education.

Shortly thereafter, my uncle and new aunt were divorced and my uncle took on a totally different persona. He grew a beard, wore flowery clothes, smoked marijuana, and had lots of late-teens, early twenties’ individuals in and out of his home. Through this tumultuous period of his life, he became a strong advocate in the state for handicap rights, leading a Maui chapter, working tirelessly while gaining new, warranted accessibly rights for the handicapped in the state of Hawaii.

While we didn’t share the same values for a period then, the life-lessons my uncle provided and modeled during the time we were together in Arizona have stuck with me for a lifetime. My uncle gave me a second chance in life and for that I’ll always be grateful.

Left: Uncle Jack with Grandmother Strobel before his accident.

Center: Aunt Sandy.

Right: Aunt Sandy and Uncle Jack with their German Shepard.

My Stepfather

My stepfather, Forest Harlen Evans, was born in Jasonville, Indiana, on July 12, 1923, to Arthur and Beulah Evans. He died at the early age of fifty-seven on Maui, Hawaii, on September 18, 1980. He came from a large family, having four brothers and eight sisters. I believe that coming from such a large family and being one of the older sons inhibited his education. Not sure how far my stepfather went in school but later in our lives my stepbrother and I learned that he couldn’t read or write as an adult. On the rare occasion that he would read to us, we learned that he was actually telling us a story while pretending to read.

He was a single parent for a short time as he gained full custody of my stepbrother following an incident where his wife left my stepbrother alone as a baby for a period. He married my mother on October 21, 1949, in Indianapolis, Indiana. Thus, my stepbrother Floyd was one-and-one-half years old and I was three when his father married my Mother. It may have been somewhat a marriage of convenience as both Mother and stepfather were single parents at the time. My stepfather adopted me in April of 1951.

During my middle and high school years, I remember my stepfather being a hard worker. He held down two jobs most of the time. His longest and main employment stint was with Ford Motor Company. He worked on the assembly line at the factory a few miles east of us when we lived on English Avenue in Indianapolis, Indiana. One of the secondary jobs he held was at the local amusement park, running one of their two roller coasters. When my brother Floyd and I could make it out to the amusement park, my stepfather would let us ride his roller coaster for free. That was quite the treat to us.

For the thirteen years I lived under the same roof with my stepfather, I don’t remember any signs of affection between him and my Mother. I didn’t think of it at the time but later in life I realized that due to his laboring, he never had the time or energy to spend quality time with either my stepbrother or me. Thus, my brother and I didn’t learn how to hunt, fish, or camp from our father.

It was as an escape that we became adept at sports, specifically at base­ball and basketball. Sports relieved us from our unending daily household chore list. We would gather a group of neighborhood boys and play from the moment we awoke in the morning all day until dark. Floyd became quite the athlete at both the grade school and high school levels.

Father dished out punishment for infractions my mother would accuse us of. He was too tired to determine our guilt or innocence. If mother said we did something worth being punished for we knew the thick army belt with grommets was in our future as soon as he got home.

He had health issues in his late forties and early fifties, probably resulting from the extraordinary amount of work he did to provide for his family. A home offer from his brother-in-law led my stepfather, Mother, and two younger sisters to Hawaii. The home offer never materialized, but I’m convinced the Hawaii move increased his life span. From my perspective, he was happiest during those last years in Hawaii. He was more open and friendlier than at any other time of his life, which I’d experienced. Anyone knowing him during that period spoke highly of him.

Looking back, I believe that my strong work ethic came from his modeling in that regard. For that and his adopting me, I’m most appreciative.

Left: Toddler Stephen and Father.

Center: Young Sister Marjie.

Right: Young Sister Becky.

Sisters Marjie and Becky.

Chapter 2 | 1946–1955

Mother gave birth to Stephen Douglas Thayer, who weighed six-and-a-half pounds on July 18, 1946, in St. Vincent Hospital, located at 2535 N. Capitol Avenue in Indianapolis. The hospital outgrew its older facilities and in 1974, moved to 2001 West 86th Street.

Four and a half months after my birth, my mother and bio-dad divorced on December 2, 1946. I never learned specifically what caused the divorce although during the time of my birth my bio-dad was seeing other women. It was nearly three years later that Mother married my stepfather. During the divorced period, I can only surmise that Mother had an extremely difficult time. She gave birth to me before her twenty-first birthday by a man she was in love with, divorced, and faced life as a divorcee with a baby in the mid-1940s when society frowned on that type of behavior.

I learned from an older cousin, Mary Lou, much later in life that her parents nearly adopted me when I was one or two years old. Mary Lou was an only child and we nearly became brother and sister. Mary Lou’s parents, Frank and Mary Ellen Guerkie, lived on and ran a farm outside of Roachdale, Indiana. What a different lifestyle this would have presented me growing up in the country on a farm versus living in the city. This had to be a tremendously difficult decision for Mother, who decided against the adoption.

It was around this time that my soon-to-be stepbrother had a horrifying experience. Floyd Leon Evans, born on March 31, 1948, was left alone as a baby in his crib for two days. The neighbors heard insistent, constant crying coming from the apartment that he lived in with his mom and dad. He always remembered the flashing red lights from the police patrol cars coming to his home to investigate. This incident led to his father obtaining full custody of him as he was at work while his mother was supposed to be taking care of him. Instead, he