November 2002

From Left To Right - Myself, June Gilmore & Steve

Steven Campbell Gilmore

December 20, 1944 - October 7, 2002

In Memoriam

How does one describe the light which shone from the life and deeds of a man such as Steven Campbell Gilmore?

Steve’s mom once said to my mother, more than forty years ago, that Steve was born laughing. Throughout his life, he had a megawatt smile. He bestowed this smile upon anyone whom he met, but most especially upon toddlers, cats and dogs, elderly women, strangers, and friends. In short, while many of us enter a crowded room hoping to find one or two persons with whom to find common ground, Steve entered a group of people knowing that he would love everyone in the room.

As he grew up, Steve, with his family, moved from assignment to assignment with his father’s military career. Steve saw himself as a link in an unbroken chain of gentlemanly officers in the military. He wanted very much to attend the Air Force Academy and nearly did so; he was first alternate from the State of Oklahoma.

Steve completed high school at Oklahoma Military Academy, where he was a member of the rifle team and was selected Outstanding Cadet his senior year. Steve graduated from Texas A&M with the class of 1966, having “squeezed,” as he said in his characteristically self-deprecating humor, “four years into five.”

Steve walked on, in his freshman year, as a golfer and as a baseball player while a member of the corps of cadets. After graduation, he was commissioned a second lieutenant in the U.S. Army. His adoptive father, J.D. Gilmore, USAF, Ret., pinned his bars on his shoulders, and it was one of the proudest days of his life.

Steve’s tour of duty in Vietnam revealed the tensile strength which abounded in that wiry body. Always slow to anger, patient beyond limits, and forever optimistic, at the end of his life, when it is possible that he knew great pain, he would say, “I feel fine!”

Steve’s war record was dazzling; decorated many times over: [Bronze Star Medal, Army Commendation Medal, Good Conduct Medal [1^st award], National Defense Service Medal, Vietnam service medal, Vietnam Campaign Medal W/60 device, Vietnam Cross of Gallantry with Palm]. It was his leisure activity in Vietnam that revealed the man equally well. Most weekends he traveled to Saigon to assist a good friend in the morgue. He made it a point to be present when the remains of the many young men who perished at “Hamburger Hill” were made ready to be sent home.

After leaving the military, Steve worked in a number of industries connected to the “oil patch” and to global manufacturing. He made trips to Japan, Canada, France, and Germany while working for Schlumberger, QMS, and other companies with multinational functions.

Steve was full of love. While his physical heart may have ultimately failed him, there was no heart larger than his, nor was there anyone more full of “try.” He volunteered at Herman Memorial Hospital in Houston, in many capacities. He went Saturday nights because those were the nights when it was hard to find volunteers to sit with the dying and the elderly. He worked with Alzheimers patients and the terminally ill, and very essentially, with their families.

Steve was an incurable romantic. He loved bittersweet books and films, such as “Message in a Bottle,” and “The Bridges of Madison County.” He held a lifelong passion for military history.

His interest in music and popular culture peaked in the early to mid-sixties, with the Kingston Trio, The Back Porch Majority, and most especially “Peter, Paul, and Mary,” and Gilbert and Sullivan.

He adored bluegrass and played the banjo with joy, giving himself the smiling title of “Quicksilver.”

Steve was a patriot and loved his country. Therefore, he had no patience with war protestors nor with those who mistreated Vietnam vets. He despaired of the post-Vietnam vet stereotype of unkempt hair and beards, mail order uniforms and medals. He was a proud son of America; a proud son of Lyn Campbell, David Gilmore, June Gilmore; proud father of David Randall Gilmore, whose beautiful eyes and brilliant smile bring both joy and pain in his reflection of his father’s image. If you ever asked Steve about David, his eyes brightened and the smile broadened. “He likes to smile. He’s a happy kid.” He was a very proud basketball dad.

In the last years, Steve and his “best friend” and “best girl,” Georgie, began their career together in a “Mom and Pop” coin laundry business, which they named “Soap Opera Ventures.” They were one week from purchasing a coin car wash. Their goal was to have four businesses together and retire to Costa Rica. On the day of his death, Steve was to increase his duties as a manufacturers representative with his best guy friend, E. David Upton, president of EMA Industries.

In Steve and Georgie’s absence this week and weekend, friends and customers of the laundry have volunteered their time to keep it open while they are away. Machinists, pearl merchants, and ranchers. Steve was so loved that nobody had to ask.

Georgie asked me to say the foregoing words for her. She asked me to add, that in her brief lifetime with Steve, she has gathered many lessons. One can treat others with infinite care, kindness, and passion. Stepping away from confrontation can be a sign of tensile strength. Steve was incredibly fine in the way he treated others. He will be my example and model, a standard I can never hope to achieve nor to replace.

Goodbye, Sunshine Golf Guy, hit them all “stiff to the pin.” Say hello to George Patton. Wait for me, precious boy. Thank you for three years of joy.

Finally, bretheren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy-meditate on these things.

Philippians 4:8.

Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; bears all tings, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.

1Corinthians 13:4,7,8

To the best man I’ve ever known, Steve Gilmore. I love you, Stevie C. Georgie.

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