05/14/2006: "Steven Fulton Swanberg"

1944 - 2006

Longtime San Juan island resident Steven Swanberg passed away at home on Friday, May 5th, 2006. Steve had been battling cancer for two years, and until recently was able to continue his walks, and visit his vineyard on Roche Harbor road, but in the last few months he was at home, with his wife Yvonne at his side, and still visiting with their friends and associates

The following eulogy was delivered by Bill Giesy at the memorial service

I am honored that Yvonne Swanberg has shared with me some thoughts and reminiscences from her three decades of marriage to Steve, and has asked me to try and relate those and some of my own to you here today.

Steve's 61 year life was, not by choice, really divided into two distinct phases, those being his healthy, vigorous first 59 years and then nearly two years of a brutal struggle against a vicious, aggressive prostate cancer. He learned much, and taught those around him much, during the second phase, but this learning came at great cost and came to it's earthly close mid day of May 5th.

But through his healthy time Steve deservedly enjoyed so many things that here today we can celebrate his life and seek consolation from the knowledge that he did indeed live it to the fullest. He possessed a very sharp and curious intellect, his athletic ability was often remarkable, he was an honest and successful businessman, he had the support of a caring family, and he had the love of a good woman.

In truth, didn't we all know that Steve marched to the beat of a different drummer? And sometimes didn't we wonder if he marched at all? He could seem so slow physically, and sometimes mentally, that he would seem lost in space and time, but all the while his keen intelligence was digesting and processing all that went on around him. He was really so smart, and at times concealed it so well, that when he did come forth with one of his incisive observations or comments he resembled a savant. It was a constant pleasurable challenge to try to even guess at what he might be thinking. His intellectual curiousity led him to read voluminously on challenging subjects such as quantum physics, higher mathematics, philosophy, and he was an avid reader of 20th century history. Steve's constant search for knowledge was one of the qualities that made him a very remarkable man.

Steve also led a very active physical life. To see him around town, moving at his usual methodical pace, you might not know that since his early success in high school sports he stayed in good shape with a consistent regimen of jogging, racquetball, bicycling and hiking. And he focused so on his nutrition, vitamins, blood pressure and health that we occasionally poked fun at his zealotry. But his health consciousness didn't prevent him from enjoying a good glass of wine, or two, a slab of prime rib, and a nice cigar.

In spite of a somewhat adversarial relationship with all things mechanical, Steve took pleasure in boats, motorcycles and airplanes.

For years he was active in the local sailing scene, first in his San Juan 28 "Corsair" and then his J-35 "Patriot". Steve was a charter member of the Friday Harbor Sailing club, he started and sponsored the Hein Bank race and competed many times in the Shaw Island Classic, Swiftsure, and many other local races. Eventually he grew weary of going nowhere slowly and he and Yvonne gave up sailing and purchased a beautiful 36 foot Tiara powerboat. Steve didn't get to cruise on the boat as much as he wanted to, but really enjoyed running crab pots from it, often with Paul Iovan and sometimes with me. Once, in the winter, Steve and I were steaming back into Roche Harbor after checking the pots, running the boat from the flying bridge. Entering the harbor he pulled the throttles back to around 2,000 RPM, letting the stern settle in the water, causing the boat to throw a tremendous wake. This is not much appreciated by other boats in the harbor, but I thought since it was his boat I would let him run it as he liked, especially if I could hide behind some of the canvas and no one could see I was aboard. He continued in, lost in space once again, as we approached a trawler at anchor, smoke coming from it's diesel stove. The trawler started blowing it's horn and the owner came out on deck, alternately making "slow down" motions with his arm and shaking his fist. Steve, of course, noticed none of this, but I told him, "the guy on that trawler must know you, he's honking and waving". Steve said "Oh", and continued on, leaving the trawler slapping back and forth in our wake. It was just another pleasant time on the water.

Steve took up motorcyle riding in the early 90's and put maybe 50,000 miles on bikes around the western states, usually with some portion of a core group consisting of me, Dave Moorhouse, Tom Starr, Bill LaPorte, Tim Judkins, Jim Funk, and Harry Thomasen. As he heard his different drummer it was often a challenge to keep track of him. He invariably went either much slower or much faster than the pack, and whether we were going to lose him at a gas stop or lunch break was always a question. We seldom planned where we might spend the night so there was a good possibility of losing him completely on the way to Tucson, Death Valley, or wherever. But like the proverbial bad penny, he would always turn up.

Steve got his pilot's license in 1991 And together with Tim Judkins purchased a Cessna 205. Steve loved flying as a passenger but never developed a passion for piloting and the inevitable equipment and weather problems that came with it. He and I made a flying trip to eastern Montana years ago, in my plane, to visit some of his old haunts and to see some property I owned there. Prior to leaving we were discussing some weather problems along our route and I proposed that if weather blocked our path we could just land at the nearest convenient town and relax and take a look around, wherever we were. Steve digested this and said, "At least we've got our drinking to fall back on". And so it turned out, late at night in a tavern in Sandpoint, Idaho.

Steve and Yvonne moved here from Spokane in 1979, coincidentally the same year that I, Dave Moorhouse, Verne Howard, Kit Moorhouse, Mary Sliger, and King and Pam Fitch arrived. Steve spent most of his business life in the insurance industry and founded the Swanberg Insurance Agency, now Swanberg/Judkins, in 1980. He remained active in the business until 2004 when he was diagnosed with cancer and the second phase of his life began.

My wife Diane and I were, in a strange sense, fortunate to share the second phase with Steve and Yvonne from the day they received Steve's diagnosis until his remains were transported from their home after he died there, peacefully, on May 5th. Steve's prognosis was never good, and though he faced it with courage and optimism he didn't get many breaks as the disease made it's relentless progression. Early on he and I were taking a drive around the island, smoking cigars and relaxing, and Steve said, with humor, "I get up in the morning and look at myself in the mirror and say to myself, ‘How in the hell did you get yourself in this mess?"

Well, he was in a Hell of a mess I sure didn't have an answer. From diagnosis through all the failed treatments the best we came up with was "Steve, you just drew the short straw". But, being Steve, he wasn't content with such a trite answer and started focusing that powerful mind on the likelihood of his death in the not too distant future and what that meant to him and the people around him. He became a teacher of life's lessons, and a good one.

His first lesson concerned what really matters in life and he stated it in his concise fashion "Friends". By friends he meant the important people in life including family and of course his best friend, his wife. While he took justified pride in being successful and productive, once his diagnosis soaked in none of the material possessions we all collect meant anything to him. He put it another interesting way. He had somehow gotten addicted to a TV show "The Apprentice" starring Donald Trump, and once in a while he would burden me with talk about how much money, how many employees, how many jets and helicopters, etc., that Trump had. About a year ago Steve asked me "If Donald Trump were in my situation, how much of his fortune might he give to get himself out of it?" Sensing Steve had the answer, I said I didn't know. Steve said "All of it".

He leaves behind the lesson that friends are the most valuable part of life here on earth and looking at the crowd gathered here today we can know that he was a very, very rich man.

Having dispensed with the importance of material possessions, Steve became focused on things spiritual and with his curious intellect, intensified a lifelong study of spiritualism and religion and the afterlife. Nothing so concentrates the mind as impending death. He studied the subject from the point of physics, mathematics, and faith. As time went by he gained peace and enjoyment from studying scripture with Leo Michael and Tom Starr and faith became his comfort.

So now Steve has made his journey down the path we all will walk, and is waiting for us. For my part, I want to see him as I did so many times at the end of a long day on the motorcycles – with a big glass of wine, a good cigar, a smile. A friend.

Thank you, Yvonne, for letting me have this privilege. Thank you all for listening, and for coming here today to celebrate the life of this good man.