I put together a book of pictures of Steve and some of his writings and recipes for our family. I thought that I would post my introduction on his website especially after the wonderful memorial party where so many of his friends were there to say goodbye to this unique person.
With love, Joan
"It still seems so unreal that Steve is not here with us. I think that it will always be that way. I think that we were all singularly struck with how many friends--good friends!--that Steve had. In speaking to them and reading some of the comments posted on his website, there were three things that everyone always spoke about. He had an outsized amazing laugh that immediately made everyone around him want to laugh with him. He had an outsized and amazing ability to enjoy life whether by dancing a raucous polka, eating a delicious meal fixed either by himself or by others (Yummmmm), making beautiful pottery or any of the many other things that made Steve's life unique. And he was a very good friend whether you knew him as a son, brother, husband, relative or acquaintance. He truly took care of those that he felt were in need no matter the circumstances even though someone looking at him that didn't know him would think that he was the one in need! In putting this book of pictures and recipes together, I often found myself giggling in remembering some of his escapades. Was there ever a time that he didn't wear sandals and tee shirts even in the dead of winter? Was there ever anyone who could change his appearance so radically as some of the pictures will attest to? Was there ever anyone who was less materialistic and able to live his life on his own terms than Steve? In selecting the pictures, I decided to make the book "expandable" so that if you find others you want to add (and if you do, please share!) it can easily be done. In selecting the recipes, I chose the ones with the most grease stains thinking that they were the ones he made the most although I know for a fact that he didn't often follow a recipe. He was a unique cook who had the real sense of what goes good with what. I will always remember his rice and lentil casseroles, his chocolate mousse and his many beautiful cakes. He was a fearless cook who never was afraid to try any recipe because it looked too hard or complicated. I think he lived his life that way too. he tried everything and sometimes to the detriment of his health but always with a sense of adventure. I know we will always remember Steve and be recounting Steve stories at every gathering so that in this way he will always be with us. He has left us with a lot of memories. He will be missed by all of us but he has left us a legacy of love."
I first met Steve - 'Stevie' to me then - when he was about 13. His picture from that time, probably the one for his bar mitzvah, remains sacred to me.
One night, Stevie tried to make me laugh by seeing how many grapes he could stuff into his mouth. He laughed and laughed and laughed - the youthful version of his now famous laugh - a laugh like no other. I laughed and laughed and laughed with him. A moment in time. I fell in love with him then, and forever after.
Steve lived his life with an accepting, open heart and mind. He befriended everyone and exhibited an unfailing loyalty. I will miss him beyond all possible measure. With love, Margaret
Hi dear Family-
I just wanted to tell you I had the most moving dream about Uncle Stevie two nights ago.
We were all at his house, just hanging out when he sort of materialized out of thin air. He looked young and healthy and completely and totally at peace. There was not one thing that seemed unfinished or unpleasant for him. I recall he was wearing a shirt with something written on it. It was sort of his personal logo or statement about himself. The sad thing is, I can't remember what it said! At one point in the dream, Steve, Marty, Nevo and I were sitting in a room talking about what it was like to be "dead." Steve said, "That math equation, Parsvo's Line?, I know the answer now." And then he turned to Nevo and said, "And you will someday too." (for whatever it's worth, "parsvo" means revolved in Sanskrit.)
In the dream, I had all these questions for him about what it was like to pass through to death, but I held back from asking. It was so obvious that all that was kind of irrelevant to Steve now. After hanging with us for a while, it was time for him to go. He got out this black parachute and told us to stand back, there would be a big blast. Then he slowly started to levitate up in the air. And then I was out in a big field that looked like Bobe and Zeda's backyard magnified by 1,000. All of these men, women and children started coming down in parachutes. The adult's parachutes were white and the kids were blue. They had all been hiking in the mountains and had died in some kind of accident. They were convening on the backyard/field. Even though it was mentally sad that all these people had died, in the dream it all seemed utterly peaceful and serene.
And that was the biggest thing I took away from this dream. When I woke and thought of Steve, and even now as I write this, I have a feeling of lightness and fulfillment, of what it would be like to walk through life without feeling any resistance from the air around you, no inner conflict, no unfinished and nagging tasks, just love with no particular attachment, no roles to play or things to do for anyone or anything.
I hope that my dream had shards of truth for Steve and for all of us, and if so, I send a thanks to Uncle Stevie for his visit.
Looking forward to seeing all of you next month.
xx Karen
Dear Steve,
This is as good a time as any to tell you how much my heart aches when I know I will not get to visit on Southern any more. I can still hear your laugh ringing like church bells in the most sacred of places (where you are now).
Tim's dream was sooooo cool... the Goat and Cinthy and Steve... it seems so real.
When I first heard Steve was no longer here I could find no sadness, no fear in my heart but I was ticked off and "serves me right" because I should have visited more often than just the meditation nights.... Then he swirled in my mind, as happens often, but today I am crying like a baby. My wife looks at me in wonder; it seems like all the pent up love I felt for Steve finally came rushing out. FINALLY I want to send All My Love to Steve's sister, whom I met when she came in from NY. And to Cinthy, Steve's Soul Sister.
Steve was probably one of the "very few" people that I have ever met who could take on God in a one-on-one laughing contest (goat participating). His favorite guru (get this) was a "kid" when he first met him, and that was the funniest thing we laughed about. Of course Steve was free, truly free with respect to his knowledge of the Real God Who We Are. His spiritual maturity, is (still is) way past most people's understanding. He was a Giant among Men and he Humbly Served Humanity out of the bowls he made with his own Sacred Hands and Blessed Are Those that drink and eat and give toasts to life out of those Throes.
God bless you "Steve you are"... and if I ever I learn to astral-travel then I want to check out that Goat.
Love Van
Steve gave me a visit in a dream.
I had a dream about 2 or 3 weeks ago that I was working at a festival in one of my parking lots in Columbus.
On the parking lot was an old gas station garage that I used as a maintenance facility. With all the activity of
parking cars, Steve and Cynthy (whom I have never met) walked up to me with a goat pulling a cart. Steve asked
if he could water the goat because it was hot. I lead him inside the garage where it was cool and the floor was covered
with straw. I petted and hugged the goat and he was hot and sweaty. I asked Steve how it was working out with the goat
pulling the cart and Steve said it was working out just great. Steve then unhitched the goat from the cart and leashed
him and the goat pulled Steve into the crowd. Next thing I was doing was talking to a group of construction workers around
a water tank and one of the workers told me he saw Steve. I told him that I saw him also and the construction guy told
me that it was impossible to see Steve because he had passed. I told him that we were not in a dream and that Steve
came by to visit with his goat. Then my dream moved on...
I consider that my final visit with Steve. Tim Chavez,
Columbus, Ohio,
3/5/2010
from Barbara
I found one last poem my Mom saved that Steve wrote when he was eleven. It's entitled "Fear". The boy could write! I wish I could scan it in (the pencil is way too light.) as his handwriting at that age was so reflective of his clarity, openness, creativity and willingness to share his emotions.
And, Steve, as a grown man knowing he was going to die, had no fear of his own death. He loved the life he had led, to the very end. Certainly he was sad to be leaving those he loved, but fear was not a part of his process. I believe the eleven-year-old fear he's expressing in the poem is probably more akin to his being busted for breaking the neighbor's window when he threw a rock at it! ;)
Fear
Your mind is in superstitious fear,
And your eye sheds a fearful tear.
Your mind is in its wild flight.
But it is a useless plight.
Wild. ghostly figures in the night,
Dancing, dancing before your eyes.
Weird are their desperate cries.
And a cold chill runs up your spine,
As you fall into this foaming brine.
As you hide your face in fear,
Your death seems so near.
Oh so near.
I have been sleepless waiting for this news. A peace to know that he does
not have to suffer any more but a huge void in my heart. I am sorry I
didn't have a chance to say goodbye - but now he knows that I love him and
hold his memory close. You are certainly right - I never met a more
honest and unique person. He saved my life at a time when I had lost
myself and I will always be grateful.
Love, Ruth
Barbara,
My mom forwarded your email to me and has been keeping me posted on Steve's
status. I am so sorry to hear of his passing.,
I have nothing but fond memories of Steve growing up, and I have been
putting in a good word for him in shul since he got sick. Your words about
him were wonderful and made me wish I had known him better.,
Please accept my condolences to you and the rest of Steve's family. Lisa and
I are thinking of you and wish we could be there to comfort you. Hamakom yenachem - May God grant comfort and consolation to the Goldman
family and to all who grieve.
Love, Dave (Harris)
Tijeras Art Market -- October 01, 2007 -- Steve Goldman demonstrates how to use a kick wheel at the Tijeras Open-Air Arts Market at Just Imagine Gallery & Coffeehouse in New Mexico.
2008 Tijeras Art Market
Years ago, after our mother died, I somehow became the recipient of multiple and disorganized boxes chock-full of pictures, letters and portfolios of various and sundry written works. Last week, in a half-hearted attempt to sort out the boxed items, I came across a treasure trove of poems written by Steve when he was just a kid. His expressive vocabulary is remarkable.
Mom had lovingly kept them and I am moved by how they demonstrate the constancy of his profoundly lovely sensitivity, sense of humor and heart and soul. Seeing his round and distict handwriting (which didn't change too much in his adult years!) was a beautiful experience for me.
Enjoy another peek at the uniqueness that was and always will be...Steve.
Grateful for this wonderful find and so thrilled to share ta few of them with you, word for word as Steve wrote them, Barbara (Steve's sister in Santa Fe)
Loneliness
What is loneliness?
It is a dark fog that slowly surrounds you
And then devours you.
It is a feeling of the presence of loved ones who are not there.
It is a feeling of darkness and strangeness.
When the fog comes apart and the sun breaks through...it is your loved ones coming home.
(age 9 )
Sadness
Sadness is a slave driver
Chaining you to a wall.
When this happens to you,
There's no hope at all...
For companionshipship you may crave,
But no! You are time's endless slave.
But there is hope! As in Pandora's box,
Happiness will break the monotonous rhythm
Of time's rusty locks.
(age 9)
Happiness
It has a gay feeling.
As free as a bird in flight.
There's no limit to its abundance.
Take it as you will.
There's more left, there's always more still.
It was put there as hope in Pandora's box,
It breaks the monotonous ous rhythm of time's rusty locks.
(age 9)
Ghost Town
It is old, with creaky windows,
With cobwebs all around.
It gives a creepy feeling,
I get chills head to ground.
It has a blacksmith shop
With an anvil rusted away.
This used to be a bustling city
With carriages bright and gay.
(age 9)
Love
Love has been the life of man and woman
Since the beginning of time.
From Adam and Eve to now.
And so shall it be forever,
Love is an everlasting thing.
(age 9)
Mountains
High and majestic, in rustic beauty they lay—
Their dancing clouds standing on the mountains say,
Their splendor seen for miles, their beauty a gift for all.
No thing with such beauty as the mountains great and tall.
They reach to God's kingdom, no gift as great as they,
Yes, the mountins great and tall,
I think the mountains are the greatest gift of all.
(Mom wrote: "I found this in Steve's notebook. He said he was looking out the window in study hall when he had nothing to do and just wrote it. (Incidentally, he brought up all his grades this period). Anyhow, I thought it was so good that I am copying it and sending it to you")
Ode to Vacation
Send your wretched, torture wearied mass to me
To lay in the shade of the weeping willow tree.
Just as I have yearned to be free...but no! The teacher has given to me
The supposed opportunity to learn.
But in the summer, my books will I burn.
The teacher has tortured us with her scheming ways,
And I had to go this year for a full 180 days.
Mr. McDonald guards the doors
So that we can not race upon the floors.
The principal isn't nice, with his eyes like blue ice,
And raises the paddle so long and slim
And brings it down on an unfortunate "him".
So in the summer, I shall rest, for I think it best
Not to go on a learning quest!
(age 11)
A little video of Steve
We all took our cue from Steve during his last days with us. This
little video was taken soon after he had returned home from the
hospital after having yet another week or so of chemo. He didn't
feel much like eating anything himself, but wanted to cook for the
people who were dropping by to see how he was doing. Steve embraced
life and he loved his friends and family. He showed such grace and
good humor in the face of pain and dwindling odds. I'll always be
inspired by his ever- brave and open heart. Steve's
brother, Marty
Barbara
Please know that our thoughts and prayers are with you and the Goldman family during this time of loss. While I did not have a great deal of interaction with Steve during the times that our collective time on this earth, the times I did cross paths with Steve were always memorable. I vividly remember him coming to your parents home in his baby blue VW bug when I was there with my father on any given Sunday for schnapps, tennis, and kibitzing. Ally and I still have the beautiful bowl that he made for us for our wedding. It is and has been proudly displayed amongst our most precious things. He told me one time that we should use it for food and cooking, but we have not been able to bring ourselves to do it. I also remember Steve's wonderful smile and his beautiful eyes. What a gift he was to the world.
Love -- Michael, Ally, Jonah, Solomon, and Raechel Harris
Sent from Karen Ginsburg on the death of her Uncle Steve:
Dear Friends,
My beloved Uncle Steve, my mother's youngest brother, passed away today. He turned 58 two days ago. His vibrant life was cut short by acute myelogenous leukemia.
He was a bright, irreverent, iconoclast. A hippie to the core, who made beautiful pottery, grew his own pot, and lived with the least attachment to material possessions of anyone I know. He danced a rollicking polka to any kind of music that was playing, believed whole heartedly in extra-terrestrials, and he laughed, with a crazy, melodious trill, to just about anything life threw at him.
If in the next few days you think to laugh wickedly and with abandon, dance a polka, get stoned or act totally non-judgmentally towards your fellow humans and animals, think of my dear, sweet Uncle as you do so.
The world has lost a true original. love, Karen
From Karen Ginsburg, Steve's sister Joan's daughter:
He is pictured at left meeting for the first time, my daughter, and his
niece, Alexa, while undergoing his first round of chemotherapy. Above:
Steve, Alexa and his sister Joan.
Dear Joan,
Upon hearing of the death of your dear brother, Steve, I tried to think of a meaningful way to commemorate him and his values, as well as to tie it all to you and your family members who loved him so much.
The choice seemed so natural, and was met with great enthusiasm by Larry Walker. We reached out to some more good friends. Our group includes Jeremy Abramson, Lee Karsch, Barbara Kogan, Larry Walker and I. Of course, all our spouses are part of this as well.
We came together to plant: A Garden of 100 Trees as An Eternal Living Memory
of Stephen Goldman.
It is our way of honoring your dear brother's legacy.
Larry and I hope to be able to personally present the special memorial plaque to you and Sam when you are back in town.
Warm regards and love,
Mona
E-mail to Cynthy:
You never met me, I am a guy called Freddie the Crust. I lived with Steve on Southern shortly after my discharge from the navy in 1973. I met him originally in 1969, though I didn't know it at the time, Steve would become a great friend. I always enjoyed his friendship and his great sense of humor. I am very sorry for your (and our) loss, but remember, he will always be in his friends memory. Always.
...Freddie...
Cynthy,
I just read in the paper that Steve has passed away. I am so sorry that he was taken so soon in his life. I will always have wonderful memories of when we spent so much time together when we were very young and lived across the street from each other. I remember when we decided to dig some tunnels on his property and had gone quite a ways down in the ground and started to go under Washington street. We had candles dug into the side of the dirt tunnel so we could see. It all ended when Si came home from work & caught us and got upset because he thought the tunnel would collapse and trap us in there. He of course was right and we covered it up immediately with Si watching us to make sure it was done before he left the site. Just one memory of many that I have when thinking of Steve (it was Stevie back then & I was Billy). Steve was a great guy and he will be missed greatly!
Bill Chreist
Dear Cynthy,
David and I are so very sorry to hear of Steve's passing. It was very kind of you to let us know. It must have been a great comfort to Steve to have you with him during this period and we can't imagine how you were able to cope.
David met Steve and his friend Tim Chavez (then also a potter) in San Miguel de Allende in the early 70's. David and I moved from Toronto to Albuquerque a few years later and we all were close friends while the guys were going to UNM. These were great years. We have many fond memories of Steve. We always hoped to move back to Albuquerque and always assumed Steve would still be there in his house on Southern and we would resume our friendship. We sure miss him.
I hope we get to meet you some day. Let us know your plans for a Memorial Service and please accept our deepest sympathy. Sincerely, Judy and David Neave
View a 1-minute video of Steve Steve is shown here throwing pots on his foot-powered wheel at the Tijeras Market in 2008. Steve was a true artist who inspired us with the care, dedication and pure joy he put into his craft. Wherever we found him with his pottery, he was always the guy having the most fun. Zelda & Frank
