Obituary of Steven P. Stechna

A few words about the man of few words By Stacy Stechna Steve Stechna had many good friends and many good times. He was an active member of the Irondequoit Fish and Game Club. He liked to Fish, “Hunt”, Boat, play cards and was always ready with a quick comeback. He was a good friend, father and husband. I would like to start by thanking him for all that he did for us. He gave us a good home, plenty to eat (even if we acted like we were perpetually starving), and a safe and stable life, even when life wasn’t stable. Steve Stechna was born on September 7th, 1940, in Rochester, NY to Joseph and Edwiga Stechna. Aside from a few years with his mother’s family in Detroit, MI, Steve spent the majority of his childgood right here in Rochester along with his sister, Martha (deceased), paternal Grandmother Mary (Bopshe), paternal Aunts and Uncles Katherine, Charlie, Mike, Anne and the rest of the Stechna Family. As a youngster, he liked to fish, boat, shoot and worked as a paperboy. He learned carpentry, roofing and plumbing from his father. I wish I knew more about his childhood but he didn’t chat much about it. One thing I know, when I backed Sheri’s beloved car into his beloved truck, was that his father told him (when he crashed the family car) that you had to get back on the horse. So, that day, he did as his father did for him. He sprained his hand and further dented his truck by hitting it instead of me and put me back in the drivers seat to take my friend home. He learned a lot from his father. Steve met Sandra Buckler in 1959; and they were married in March of 1964. A short two years later, he joined the Army and was sent to sweltering Fort Knox for basic training but, not before conceiving, my sister, Sheri. Steve sweated through basic training and OSC, while Sandy lived in the apartment above her mother-in-law on Meigs street in the city of Rochester. The war caused the absence of many fathers-to-be; and Steven was 1 of 10 such fathers in his OCS class. Many of you know my father wins raffles and pools, so it wouldn’t surprise you to know that he won the pool to be allowed to go home for the birth of his child. Sheri, a long skinny perpetually hungry child, was born on September 29, 1966 and Steve got to be there. Training done, Sandy and Sheri went to live on base like so many other officer’s families. Little did they know what they were getting into—the base I mean. Those of you who know her wouldn’t say that Sandy is what you would call a conventional officer’s wife, but she did her best. She donned her white gloves and pretty dresses and went to parties and the PX. They made many high-ranking friends, which probably helped, because life with the Stechna’s is always interesting. Mom would get pulled over for speeding, Spookie (the family dog) would get loose and bring back lawn ornaments, and Second Lieutenant Stechna was responsible for it all. Shortly, Steve made First Lieutenant and moved his family to Fort Aberdeen, MD to train new recruits to shoot rifles. He was an excellent marksman, a Stechna family trait. I remember seeing dimes that haad been thrown in the air and shot dead center. He was loved and revered by many of his trainees. It’s funny I can’t really see him screaming his head off at a recruit, but I am sure he did it. I see him as a generally happy-go-lucky guy that took on a grumpy obstinate façade as he aged. I do think the regimented life of the Army might have been something he would’ve liked and if there hadn’t been a war on and a family, my father would have liked to be a career officer. In 1969 the family, now done with army life, came back to Rochester. Steve worked at a cannery and worked retail at Sears while attending night school at RIT. A second child, Me, was born on December 4, 1970. I was a perfect angel, plump and quiet. He graduated with a MS in Statistics and started working at Fasco and then Stomberg-Carlson. They bought a house on Demalie St. where many life long friends were met. The year 1975 brought about the big and final move. Steve and Sandy packed up the kids and moved out of the city to the suburbs. Dublin Rd. was the last road of civilization in the then small town of Penfield. Their new house faced a cornfield and there were no streetlights. Here both old and new friends would join for swimming and summer parties. Our house was always filled with people and the door was always open. We used to say that if a car was coming down the street it was coming to our house. Steve spent 23 happy years at Xerox and was lucky to retire at the age of 62. After a brief period of adjustment, he settled into retirement and took up the saying, “No grass grows under these tires.” He spent hours in his truck scoping out the landscape looking for deer and turkey and picking up corn. He fished, “hunted”, and participated in IFG club activities. In recent years, as he slowed down, he enjoyed watching the military channel. Thank you, Stacy Amanda Stechna