I was 21 when I first started working for the Dantzkers. Over the next several years I would live with, travel and eventually become an honorary Dantzker. Steve was the first adult male I had ever spent any time around, and I can recall when I first started nannying for them wondering if he was typical of most fathers and husbands. 15 years later I know the answer is a simple no.
I had a little concern about Steve at first. Steve didn’t exactly ignore me; it was more that he was in his own world. What were all those papers he was shuffling about constantly? What in the world was he listening to on those headphones? And most importantly why the hell did he only dress in pastel shirts? After a couple of days my trepidation was gone, I understood the meaning of all of it.
The papers were half of my job. Jackie wanted them out of the dining room and in Steve’s office, so ring-around-the-papers was my daily task. I would bring them upstairs, Steve would bring them down, the second he left the house I would bring them up again, when he returned home, down they would come again. He was incredibly good natured about it all.
As far as his earphones, what wasn’t he listening to? From what I could tell he had “read” every book known to man.
The shirts- ok, this is still a mystery to me- color blindness perhaps?
But the real essence of Steve happened on the first day when out of nowhere he pulled off his earphones, opened the fridge and offered me some of what he was snacking on. “Megan, have you had this cheese before? It’s wonderful.”
This turned out to be the essence of Steve- incredibly generous. Need a ride to the SF airport on Friday during rush hour? Steve wouldn’t bat an eye before saying yes. Want to borrow his brand new Audi for a spin, no problem. Steve and Jackie’s generosity both emotional and financial changed my life. In Steve’s case I’ve never met someone who gave so easily without expecting anything in return. Everyone around Steve benefited from his giving nature.
One of the true joys of working for the Dantzkers in those early years was learning how functional a truly abnormal family could be. Jackie stayed up all night playing scrabble or crossword puzzles and slept in til unreasonable hours. Steve got up early, packed the kids lunches and then started on his daily paper shuffle routine. Both insisted the mess in the house was due to the other (I know the truth, they were both very messy!) The house was cluttered and chaotic, filled with a ton of the friend’s kids at all times. Yet ironically it was always peaceful, a place that everyone, including myself, felt comfortable being themselves.
Over the years I watched Steve go through many phases. One of my favorites was the Simpsons stage where he meticulously recorded and labeled on VHS every episode made. I think at exactly the date in time he finished, the full set came out on DVD!
He loved watching these shows with his kids and quickly the Dantzker home became the popular hang out. I don’t care how many parenting books tell you to limit your children’s television. Steve spent more quality time, time he and his children truly enjoyed, watching television and movies. It was the common language that bridged the generation gap. He was the coolest dad in town. Not only would he let you watch TV, he would watch it with you! And nobody can say it was a detriment to his children, we all know the Dantzker children’s success rate is at an all time high.
To see a father love to spend time with his family is a beautiful thing. And Steve enjoyed every moment he spent with them. He was endlessly proud of his children, and lived through each of them. Whenever they could everyone sat down together at diner and volleyed ideas back and forth at each other. He was delighted by Alicia’s intelligence and playfulness, so proud of Nicky going to medical school and in awe that he turned out to be the clean Dantzker, and when Lizzy was little he adored at how sweet she was and as she got older, basked in her dry humor. His love for Jackie was obvious, every morning he dutifully delivered her gruel and paper, and he never stopped noticing how beautiful she looked decked out for work. He was proud of his family and accepted each of them for who they were.
Regrettably, death is often a clarifying moment, when one realizes how much of an impact someone has had on our lives, and just how important their presence has been to us. This is certainly true of Steve.
I miss Steve a lot. I loved him for all his weird and gentle ways, for the mischievous sparkle in his eye when he was telling you a funny anecdote. For how generously he gave anything he could. For how much he impacted my life, and for how much I didn’t realize it until he was gone.
Reading all these wonderful stories of how many people’s lives Steve touched; it breaks my heart that he won’t be around any more to fill his family and friends life with his intelligence and unusual antics. I will always remember and be grateful for his impact on my life.
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