Stephen Jon Newman

Stephen Jon Newman, much beloved and respected, died peacefully at his home in Spring Valley on Monday after a brief and brutal bout with the Big C. Surrounded by loved-ones in his last days, Steve, 77, is survived (barely) by his devoted wife of 55 years, Maris Barbara Newman, 76, with whom he shared a spooky psychic connection, and who suffered endless anxiety over his constant chain-sawing trees, hauling heavy objects, working six days a week, and climbing ladders until just about the end.

Steve was a spectacular father to his two sons, Mitchell Jeff Newman, 52, of Suffern, NY and Ian Blake Newhem, 49, of Los Angeles, who both attended him in his last weeks and final moments. Mitch and Ian feel blessed to have spent tons of quality time with their father in youth—at the beach on Long Island, hunting shells and sand sharks; hiking around Cold Spring with dogs, talking existential matters; and traveling across the country on many trips in the family truckster, stopping at every stream, and exploring every cave with rockhound equipment. Steve was embarrassingly proud of his sons' achievements, and never missed an opportunity to brag to anyone who would listen. It was an honor to be back all together as a family for the past few weeks, and it gave great comfort to both our parents.

Steve's love for his grandchildren surpassed all bounds: Hannah Rose Newman, 20, of Albany, and Ellanah Michelle Newman, 13, of Suffern; he marveled at his granddaughters' athleticism, as he never threw or kicked a ball in his life, preferring his status as spectator of the WWF, which he refused to acknowledge was fake. He counted his sons' spouses as his own children: In turn, Beth Gabrielle Newman of Suffern, and David S. Newhem of Hedgesville, WV considered him a second father, even though he inclined toward telling off-color jokes at inopportune times. You got used to that, just Steve being Steve.

Over the years, Steve and Maris made a habit of rescuing and variously supporting all and sundry souls: dogs; cats; raccoons; wayward children; destitute coworkers; homeless travelers; chickens; escapees from local cults; dispossessed relatives; criminals getting back on their feet; their kids' friends; and their kids, from time to time. More than once, Steve literally - not proverbially - gave the shirt off his back to help someone in need. He was the kind of guy you could call in the middle of the night for any kind of help. Schlep a shop-vac to clean up a flood? Steve's your guy. Got a coupla' hundred doors you need painted in your dilapidated factory? That's a job for Steve.

Among his greatest pleasures, Steve relished deep sea fishing; photography; scallion pancakes; Andre the Giant; amateur numismatics and ichthyology; Asian pears; rocks and gems; his wife's chicken soup and chopped liver; dirty movies; lychee nuts; science and technology; sunflower seeds and nuts of all kinds; disco; dopey dogs; National Geographic; sweet liqueur; juvenile comedies; cultural diversity; rum raisin ice cream; volunteering for United Cerebral Palsy; candy of every ilk; word games; steak au poivre; history; semi-legal botany; and lobster from the Nanuet Diner. He loved nickel-ante poker, which he took as seriously as … well, cancer.

For the past 15 years at All County Driving School of New City, Steve shepherded Rockland's kids through the thrilling and perilous adventure of learning to drive. An expert, tough but patient driver with an encyclopedic knowledge of vehicular and traffic law, he coached hundreds and hundreds - maybe thousands - of students to pass their tests and gain their freedom. He specialized in students with learning disabilities, and became much sought-after by students on the autism spectrum and their parents. He also got so good at recognizing the accents of foreign students that he could not only identify their countries, but often the regions of their birth. If a teenager did not slam into your car today on Rockland's roads, there's a good chance you can thank Steve Newman for that.

Before his post-"retirement" foray into driving instruction, Steve worked for decades around the northeast and south as a purchasing manager, mostly in the construction industry. He was proud to have played a critical role in rehabilitation projects as diverse as the Brooklyn Bridge, the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, and Shea Stadium. Early in his career, he worked for a contractor on aspects of the Apollo Lunar Lander; mid-career, he worked at a pioneering resources recycling concern, a corrugated carton machine building enterprise, and an aerospace turbine manufacturing plant; late in his career, he purchased for pharmaceutical clean rooms, and a spent uranium contractor (hmm …). Both Mitch and Ian worked with him in the summers of their youth, where he provided a model for mastery, honor, and fun in the workplace. He always flirted with the women at the office, and they always flirted back. But he was 100 percent devoted to Maris from the time they met at 14 (She thought he was a "drip" at first, but eventually became smitten).

Steve attended Brooklyn Technical High School, Queensborough Community College, University of Michigan, and Long Island University, CW Post College, where he studied Engineering, Philosophy, and Computer Science (back in the punch-card days!). Like his father, a photographic inventor, there were few technical challenges Steve couldn't solve. In 1975, over the course of a year, he built a first-generation digital TV, complete with remote control, a marvel for the neighborhood kids in Smithtown, Long Island. His friends from Long Island remained lifelong comrades. He also fashioned many of Mitch and Ian's childhood toys, using tools he'd inherited from his grandfather.

He served proudly stateside in the US Army Reserves during Vietnam, where he worked for a special unit of the Graves Registration detail, honoring the remains of fallen soldiers. He nearly lost his life twice at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, but almost never spoke of his grim duties during the war; instead, he described the Army as the best years of his life (and, oh, how his sons came to understand the military discipline he loved so much!). He made Mitch and Ian, among other things, rake the woods; uncover stones beneath the grass, then replace the divots; pick up microscopic bits of paper from around the property; ensure no vegetation touched the roof, and no crabapple stayed on the ground more than an hour; and keep their voluminous toys perfectly arranged—every Matchbox car parallel parked, every Monopoly play piece in its housing. It sucked at the time, but they grew to appreciate all he taught them about order and discipline. In his later years, especially after the birth of his granddaughters, all that OCD stuff went out the window. He became a complete mush.

Steve is predeceased by his mother, Helene Newman; his father, Irving Newman; and his only brother, Michael Newman, all of whom he expects to see "on some other plane."

Memorial contributions may be made to United Hospice of Rockland.

Funeral Services will be held on Sunday, October 21, 2018, at 11AM at Hellman Memorial Chapels, 15 State Street, Spring Valley NY (845) 356-8600. Interment will follow at Mount Moriah Cemetery, 685 Fairview Ave., Fairview NJ / 201-943-6163.