Daniel's Memorial

From Joe Kindel

Joe Kindel

Dan and I became friends 43 years ago, Dan becoming my best friend. I learned of Dan’s varied life beyond his fame as a New Mexico psychologist. One of his early jobs was as a dock worker in I believe Long Beach. He exhibited his practical smarts when he was asked to join the union. He became a dedicated union man when he saw the beatings co-workers took for not joining. Later on he undertook a noted Ph.D thesis at Baylor. During this time he spent some required service in the Air National Guard. I won’t say what he said, but it was a bad time. After his Ph.d, he practiced in Los Alamos, very successfully. While devoted to his practice, he also carried out several business interests. He had a rental car business in Santa Fe, owned Radio Shacks in Los Alamos and had several real estate investments. He offered that all of this investment worked because of his very smart and dedicated wife Lynne.

Lynne Steele

Justin Steele

Ken Steele

Donny Wiles

Carolyn Kindel

From Laurel Evje-Karn

I was 7 or 8. We were walking back to the car, after going out, and his phone started playing music out of nowhere. He said it was playing it for me.

Laurel Evje-Karn

From Nova Evje-Brady

“I have so many! One is when we visited San Marcos, Grandad pushed Laurel and I around the river in inner tubes.”

Nova Evje-Brady

From Nova Evje-Brady:

From Amy Evje

I have many fond memories of my dad from when I was growing up. He was a steady, loving presence always. He helped me weather the storms of being a sensitive middle child, with very big feelings. All accounts point to him being a bit of a pushover with me, to the point of probably spoiling me a bit. There is a story about a toy store tantrum, and a desired stuffed animal, and a triumphant little Amy with tear-streaked face walking out of the toy store with that stuffed animal, my dad walking behind me.

I found his guidance particularly bolstering as I came into adulthood. My junior year of college, when I did a study abroad program in Paris, my dad and I exchanged letters weekly. His were written on his psychologist office stationery - yellow cream, with his name printed at the top. He offered insights, advice, and so much encouragement and praise during my year in France. He reminded me of the benefits in “stretching” myself, and he told me in every letter how proud he was of me.

Amy

Evje

When I had kids, his guidance in parenting was invaluable. I called him many times for advice on sleep training, biting, tantrums, you name it, and always happily gave it, and made me promise to “follow up” to let him know how it went.

I am grateful to my dad also for loving my mom so much and so well. He admired her greatly, and that was a wonderful example of marital love to be raised with. When he discovered something she liked (robes, perfume, jeans), he would buy her multiples of that thing for Christmas or birthdays. And on special occasions, one card wasn’t enough, so he would buy her 2 or 3. They were in love for more than 50 years, and that is a thing of beauty.

He was an incredibly devoted and intensely loving dad. I miss you and love you, Dad. Thank you for 46 years of your care and support, and for loving my kids and my husband with your whole heart.

From Lynne Steele

The 4 of us hunkered down in the showers at the corner of our road to catch a glimpse of Lance Armstrong & we did see him fly by!

The 4 of us Getting ready for a Giants Game!

Your folks came all the way from San Leandro for our wedding ceremony we had in our yard. It was also our 20th anniversary, and what a blessing for us to share it with your folks.

Veronica

I'll always remember your Dad as a gentle & kind man, always there if you needed to talk or just sit. He had a funny side, which we all enjoyed and shared many laughs.

From Taylor

When I'm in that space with Laurel and now with Nova too, I can still hear him saying that, quietly, without the insistence or demand that words would be, just making it clear by playing the game. I'll always hear that from him, and I'll always need to hear it and be grateful for it.

. I was coming out of a stretch of living in which that experience of being trusted to come to the right action, to understand myself and the people around me, had been fairly uncommon whether coming from others or myself. I like to think of Dan, seeing me rebuilding myself to be a good partner to Amy and a good, caring and loving adult and later parent to Laurel, and deciding that what I needed was the unconditional, quiet but insistent affirmation that I had it in myself to do exactly that and do it well.

The nearest it ever got to Dan teaching me were the moments like the library game. As I watched, the seriousness of what I was seeing and what it meant for me became more and more clear. "Most of the time," Dan's responses to the game told me, "you're going to be at least a step and often many steps behind her. Most of the time, the game will be opaque and any question of you being the teacher, the expert, the long-lived experienced guide, is going to be beside the point. You will need to hold the game open, and hold yourself open, enough to accommodate her active, insistent, exploratory not-knowing. She will make it up as she goes along and that will be the full reality you live in, and the game you play.

Every move in the game will be her moment to discover something, and her learning will outpace yours. She will know more than you because every move in play, every revision to the game, will be her knowledge first, and only then a gift to you. Be patient, smile, be kind, get used to the feeling of 'stepping into an elevator shaft' (as Coltrane memorably described the moment-to-moment experience of playing with Thelonious Monk) as a kind of euphoria to balance the fear and vertigo of it. It's serious work, and the sensation of falling through it will never really disappear, but you'll learn to find the great, giving depths of fun in it, too. And in that, you'll find yourself and you'll be the parent you needed to be all along anyway."

I remember a day visiting Dan and Lynne at their Half Moon Bay place -- which places it fairly early for Amy and me, most likely before we were married, and maybe even before our engagement. Laurel was with us, and Dan was playing with her on the enclosed back porch. She had found or been given one of those old manual-slide credit card machines, and had the keyboard of Dan's computer and a stack of books next to it. The game was library: Dan was supposed to check out books, which Laurel would record by some combination of sliding the credit card reader and hitting keys on the keyboard, before setting a schedule for Dan to keep and then return the books.

The thing about the game was that it was more or less impossible to play correctly. Every time Dan would learn the correct order and procedure for being a good library patron, Laurel would announce the unscheduled closure of the library, or the need to check a book back in that had just been checked out, or the unavailability of a book that was sitting in plain view at the top of the stack. Dan played generously and happily along, learning a new set of rules for each action, in a world where rules didn't serve as a stable framework to guide actions, but where actions unmade and remade rules improvisationally, as a test by the rule maker of just how much world-making power her decisions could have. Every move in the game was a new game, every action a new world, a command to imagine along with Laurel whatever she could imagine.

At the time, I was already starting to think about the fairly sudden certainty that I would need to become some kind of adult for this child whom I had come to love along with her mother. I think it was early enough that I wasn't yet sure whether that meant being a dad, or a good "Mom's friend," or something not yet named, but I knew I had a lot to learn. The thing about Dan's role in this was that it was always steady and calm and confident -- and always quiet. I can't remember Dan ever looking at me struggling along trying to learn this new and incredibly important work and telling me what I was doing right or wrong, what I might need to learn, what wealth of family or professional experience he might have to share. His confidence in me was a tremendous gift, the unstated assurance that I would figure this all out and had what that task of trial and error would demand.

Taylor

From Janice Christofferson

I have many wonderful memories of being with Dan and family throughout the years, especially at Thanksgiving and the annual Chimayo gathering at Easter. In looking for photos I am reminded of all the good times we shared. Dan was so proud of all of his children and grandchildren, but at the heart of this circle was the

love he shared with Lynne. It is almost impossible to come up with remembrances that don't include her at his side.

Even toward the end of Dan's life, when no one would have expected him to be social, he was still making his visitors feel welcome.

It was my privilege to have had Dan in my life. Dan even helped me come up with ways to cross paths with my future husband, Tom! If Tom were still alive, he would have whole-heartedly joined in with this tribute. As a fellow San Diego State alum, counselor, and SD Padres fan, he and Dan shared so much in common. He valued his friendship greatly.

Dan was known as being thoughtful, generous, responsible, kind, and loving. However, the first word I thought of to describe him was 'funny'. His dry wit made me laugh every time I saw him. He loved to pretend that he was included in our girls' get-aways, wondering

if he was bringing the right clothes, or saying he could meet us at a particular place. He never gave up hope that someday we would include him. He also liked to be silly with our guys. The fashion show of vintage hats taken at our home in Fredericksburg is one of my favorite photos. There are some New Year's Eve classics too!

The second word I would choose is 'caring'. Dan would inquire as to how someone was doing, not in just an offhand way, but because he was genuinely concerned. If his advice was sought in any way, he would take the time to consider his comments. However, his valued opinion was never offered unless the situation was appropriate.

A third word would be 'welcoming'. Dan and Lynne were always gracious hosts. During the infamous 2000 fire, they opened their home in Santa Fe to shelter many of us fleeing 'the hill'.

Through the years I enjoyed many lively conversations in their home, usually filled with laughter, news of family, politics, and retelling the same stories (we all liked to hear) of times shared.

Janice Christofferson

From Mike Wiles (dictated by Lynne)

We were on a road-trip in the same car with Dad driving and Mike in the front seat. Mike was always pointing at things with his arm heading towards Dads face. Oh my, when Mike spotted a wild turkey by the side of the road he started gobbling loudly and the turkey gobbled back! I’m surprised Dad didn’t make Mike get out and walk. He was sooo loud.

Once driving in San Francisco over the bridge Dad stuffed Kleenex in his ears, big pieces …. Everyone we passed could see he had Kleenex in his ears because Mike was so loud! Drove around SF like that.

Mike

Wiles

From Mariana Steele

I have so many great memories with Dan as he was like a father to me. Dan and Lynne have taught me so much about family, marriage and parenting. I remember meeting Dan in 2004 and feeling immediately welcomed and thinking it was so amazing he was so kind to everyone and a great father to his kids. He was emotionally available and his presence was always positive.

I also will always remember the time he was able to spend with Ollie. I wish it was longer but I am glad Dan was able to meet, hug, sing to and be there for Ollie in his first few months of life. I wish they had longer time together in this world, but Justin and I will tell all about Grandad Dan to Ollie throughout his life.

Mariana Steele

From Jose Alejandro and Rafael

Dan was always kind and affectionate with everyone

Jose Alejandro and Rafael

From Jose Alejandro and Rafael

I will always cherish the summer I visited the Steeles in White Rock while helping out at Radio Shack. I learned so many life lessons from Dan, Lynne & family and even JD and Rhonda. I don't believe I ever sold a Tandy computer, but was heavily involved in daily sales of important Radio Shack components, many of which are now considered collectors items.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading and re-reading Uncle Dan's book sharing stories from his clinical experience. Story after story was so enthralling and eye-opening into the daily life of a shrink. (Likely helped me know I could never handle doing a similar job on a daily basis!).

And most importantly, my favorite conversation with Uncle Dan was when I was preparing to become a parent and expressed concerns about balance in life while parenting. Dan's response was simple yet profound: "Don't worry, you'll do fine". Four kids later, I trust I succeeded but I'm so thankful for his neverending encouragement.

Jason Steele

From Arwen Steele

At the top of the 50 dollar bill is written "Uncle Danny 2023 !" Uncle Danny will always have a special place in my heart! I love him more than life and I hope one day I'll see him again. And as we keep him in our hearts I want you ALL to remember these words and keep them with you whenever you miss him: "Those we love don't go away. They walk beside us every day, unseen, unheard, but always near. So loved, so missed, so very dear."

I only had met him a couple of times but those couple times were moments I'd never ever forget! When we saw him over spring break, I was worried to see him, but as I walked in, his smile meant everything to me -- all worry washed away as I hugged him. I remember him giving my brother and I an ice cream sandwich that night. He told us that if we were lucky, there would be 50 dollars inside it. Lucky enough there was, but it was from him! It was so meaningful to me I started to cry, realizing it wasn't the money that was special, it was him and how he had given it to me! I still have the 50 dollars today, because once I spend it I won't get it back.

Arwen Steele