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Steven Eugene Morris

My obituary…I was born. I lived. I died. On the 4th day of May 1951 I was born Steven Eugene Morris. My birth was the finality of an episode of love and of a successful operation; a C-section. From that moment forward Minnie Marie (Rhodes) & James Warren Morris were blessed with their one & their only ‘Little Boy’. I’ve seen a photograph of my Dad cradling me a s a baby in his arms. In my eyes, with some imagination, I resembled a diapered Planter’s peanut. A cute little goober. In my parent’s eyes, there was no doubt, I was the second ‘twinkling star’ in their evolving four star sibling constellation. I have lived a good life. I was thankful for my parent’s decision to purchase an 80 acre farm east of Lewistown, Illinois. I was guided not only by my loving parent’s wise judgements, but also I was surrounded by character building experiences of farm life. I couldn’t have imagined or wanted my adolescence influenced any other way. Chickens, lambs, dogs, cats, calves, goats, electric fence, lightning bugs, thistles & cockleburs taught me much….Particularly electric fence. Did you know hooking a live electric fence with a primitive wire chicken catching contraption leaves an indelible mark on an unsuspecting innocent mind? Disassembling a 4-year old’s pink wooden sand box for use as a farm fence repair project was a questionable, yet an acceptable contribution in the evolution of becoming a Farmer. I was told there would be plenty enough dirt to till….There was. I was not always grateful for an educational swat of a Butler’s Building Materials yard stick pointing me in a positive direction. I’ve not always been perfect, but I ‘pertnear’ was. I was proud to have had 12 years of perfect attendance at the Lewistown Methodist Church’s Sunday School. My friends & my family were important to me. I’ve prayed as well as thrown a few conniption fits. I’ve exhibited love and have been loved by others…And betrayed by a few. In my youth, in a fit of rage, I busted my sister Marcie’s head open with a toy piano. I hope she forgave me. I only wanted to demonstrate my keyboard prowess; I nearly severed by sister Deanna’s pointer finger with a broken glass Mason jar while priming an old cistern hand pump. I did make amends later to Deanna by painting her thumb to stop her thumb sucking desire. I slathered her ‘favorite’ thumb with a purple antiseptic veterinary medicine sued when de-horning cows. Hey, it worked! For being only 6 years old at the time, I was quite a guy! Lori escaped the wrath of my destructive unpredictability. I did not just limit harm to others. In 1970 I was electrocuted. I have been tolerated and I have not. I have failed and yet prevailed. I have consumed way too many of my Mom’s crescent yeast rolls. Some challenges I won….Some I lost miserably. After high school in 1969 I attended Spoon River College and received an Associates Degree in Civil Engineering Technology. For five years I worked for the Illinois Department of Transportation as an Engineering Technician. I then switched gears via a career change. In 1975 I put on my bibbed overhauls and became a coal miner working at CONSOL’s (Consolidation Coal Company’s) strip mining operations, first in Norris, IL and later in Pinckneyville, IL. Working for CONSOL at Norris was the best of times. Operating heavy machinery became my forté. Unfortunately the mines closed. First the Norris Mine in 1981 and then the Burning Star #2 mine followed in 1986. After a few temporary positions and a couple of years of financial despair, I began working at Nascote Industries in Nashville, IL. I retired form there in 2011 after nearly 24 mundane years of standing on concrete crafting extruded plastic automotive parts. I dabbled at composing poetry throughout my adult life…Some poems I was proud of, others not so much. After retiring I bought an iPad and started crafting true-life stories about my developing childhood on our family farm. I embellished them with humor for affect. Anyone who knew me would know humor was of an utmost importance to me. I derived great pleasure in the literary endeavor. I met Marilyn Meyer, the love of my life, at the Washee Washee Laundromat while she was washing pet bedding. You never know when Cupid with appear and ‘stick’ you with an arrow from his quiver. She never saw the arrow coming her way. She was a “keeper”. After an extended courtship and a few original heartfelt poems she grew to love and accept me for who I was. It scared me to think how I would have evolved without her by my side. My Mother was fortunate to know Marilyn. I wish my father could have met her. Marilyn survives my passing along with her family of canines and felines. My death occurred on Wednesday, October 9, 2019. I was the ripe old age of 68. My parents Marie and Jim Morris, my brother-in-law Roger Dobrick, my infant great-niece Mia, my Grandparents Rhodes and Morris and several Aunts and Uncles and friends have preceded me in death. This obituary would not be complete without acknowledging my decease canine kid Sally Anne. Her loyalty, intelligence and companionship got me through some very hard times. I loved her more than anyone could possibly know. I am survived by my sisters – Marcia Dobrick from Barre, VT and her family in Vermont; Deanna (Jack) Dowling from Hilton Head, SC and her families in Georgia; Lori (Brad) Jarvis from Canton and her families in Illinois. Also numerous cousins, aunts and uncles survive and are scattered about. My wish is for a short graveside service with family and friends. It will precede my internment. My remains will rest in eternal peace southwest and adjacent to my parent’s grave plot at White Chapel Memory Garden in rural Canton. This service will occur on Friday November 1 at White Chapel Memory Garden at 1 p.m. led by Lewistown Methodist Church Pastor Shane Smith. If you feel inclined to make a memorial donation, in lieu of flowers please consider The Juvenile Diabetes Foundation or your local no kill pet shelter. Both of these charitable entities were important to me. I want to acknowledge and thank those who participate in my burial service Good-bye everyone. Go home smiling, knowing I lived a great life. Take care of yourselves and please don’t talk about me until you are out of earshot. Recall what happened when I won the race to our first new indoor avocado green bathroom and what happened when Tiny our Shetland pony bit the electric fence. Oh; don’t forget about the bumble bees chasing me out of the outhouse. It has always been about the memories. The funnier the better. Creating memories was my reason for living! Porky Pig said it best – “That’s All Folks”.

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