StephMemorial: The handtruck

When Stephanie & I lived in Kansas City circa 2001, we bought two air conditioners when we couldn't afford even one. We were new to the city, and it was 105° outside, maybe hotter inside.

Steph found money in the budget for one air conditioner, for the bedroom, so we could possibly sleep. She found it at a sale price, and since we didn't have a car, our plan was to bus to the store, buy the air conditioner, and then call a cab to get it home.

Steph being Steph, she had a better idea. In a different aisle of the same store, she found a handtruck we couldn't afford either, but we bought both the a/c and the handtruck.

We got the a/c home by rolling it down the sidewalk, onto a bus (she sweet-talked the driver, and he used the wheelchair lift to get the a/c onto and off the bus), down another half-mile of sidewalk, up the stairs, and into our apartment, hoping it wasn't broken from all the bumps and rattles on the way.

We wired it into the window, turned it on, and… whoosh, it worked gloriously. We sat our sweaty selves in front of the cool blasting air, and in an hour or so the bedroom was livable.

In two hours we knew we had to do it again the next day, if we wanted to watch TV without melting. So we went into debt buying a second air conditioner for the apartment's living room.

We used those air conditioners all summer, every summer for our three years in KC. Brought them with us when we moved to Madison, but never used them again, since our apartment here has built-in a/c.

The handtruck, though, comes in handy all the time. We've used it at least once every month since buying it, and now I'm using it all day every day, packing. Yesterday that same handtruck bounced those same air conditioners up the stairs, and into the room I've set aside for stuff Goodwill will come and take away.

Maybe it doesn't seem like rocket science, but buying a handtruck was an idea that never occurred to me, and probably never would've. Like every smart thing we ever did (maybe including this move to Seattle) it was her idea.

Thanks for the handtruck, Steph, among a million other memories and moments and smiles and brilliant ideas, and everything else.

Welcome to StephMemorial

Stephanie Webb was my wife, my closest friend, my angel. We were together from 1997 until 2018, and for all that time we were head-over-heels in love. She was the best thing that ever happened to me, or ever will.

Who was Stephanie? She was complicated, and sometimes difficult. She was brilliant but insecure, eloquent but introverted, strong-willed but soft-spoken, tough as titanium but always vulnerable, a dreamer but utterly down-to-earth. Sometimes she was deeper than the Marianas Trench, and other times so silly you'd be giggling for hours.

She wasn't famous, and she was never arrested or made headlines. She worked ordinary office jobs, but after hours and on the weekend she was adventurous — oh, the places we've been (though always on a budget). She developed major medical problems toward the end, but other than a few dark days she generally kept an optimistic outlook. She was 26 when we met, and 48 when she died.

This domain was created to post her obituary on-line, so old friends who'd been out of touch could Google her name and know that she'd passed away. After writing the obituary, though, there was more to be said. And then, more still.

I don't want to forget any of the moments we spent together, the things we did, or the promises we made, kept, and broke — but I'm old and sometimes forgetful, and it's not likely that my memory will improve with age. So I'm writing it. Almost all of it. I reckon that's going to take the rest of my life.

I can't tell you everything about Stephanie, of course. As well as I knew her, there must be many stories she never told me, and many stories she told me that I've forgotten. There are also, of course, some stories that I'm not going to share.

She didn't often speak about her childhood, her adolescence, her first years of adulthood, and her answers when I asked were usually brief. She got the recipe for Stephanie exactly right, that's for sure — but I wasn't there while she was creating herself, day by day and bit by bit, so my focus will be on the time we had together.

It was delightful and never dull spending those years with her, and it's my hope to convey some small smidgen of the joy of Stephanie. Of course, her spirit can't be captured and posted on-line, and there's no doubt that I'm going to fail. But I am going to try.

I am under no illusion that this site will be popular. That's not the point. When I write about Stephanie it's like spending more time with her, or re-spending old times with her, and that's the best thing left in my life.

My name is Doug, and I'm (still and always) Stephanie's husband. If you knew her, or have something to say about the website, or if you've spotted a typo, you can reach me via the form below.