In Memoriam Stephen Jenkins (1951-2023)

I recently heard that in the waning days of 2023, my dear friend Steve Jenkins passed away. He was one of my first musical mentors in high school and he was very generous with this time and talents. We remained in touch even through October 2023, when I dropped by to visit him during Dimitri’s Michigan tour. During this visit, I was heartbreakingly aware of his condition and that this would likely be the last time that I would see him, and that made it a rather emotional visit for me. I think Steve would have found it charming that I have chosen to compose a remembrance of him in a blog post, as he was so fond of writing in his own blog as a means to process everything he so voraciously devoured, but more on that later.

One of the things I’ll remember most about Steve is that he was so earnestly curious—truly, by definition, a lifelong learner. He was an insatiable reader and enjoyed books of all kinds, especially poetry — and if you were lucky, he would show you he cared by lending or gifting you with a book he had read and thought you’d enjoy. Whenever we spent time together, he would excitedly tell me about what he was reading—and I could always be sure that it was something. 

Steve gifted me some books over the years…here’s one of my favorites.

Steve was a great musician with some of the most eclectic tastes in music I have ever seen. He played marimba, guitar, organ, piano, (also trumpet, in his adolescence) and recently, a harpsichord that, as his obituary mentions, he took great care in assembling himself. He was also an avid composer and songwriter. 

One of Steve’s songs, which we played at his coffeehouse gigs.

He loved any piece of any genre that sounded good and loved sight reading new music as well as composing and improvising. He played shows of original music at the local coffeehouse while it still hosted live music and was his church’s music minister, playing on a beautiful organ whose installation he oversaw. I think he was largely misunderstood by local musicians, save for a few of us, because he didn’t really love the status quo and was not afraid to make his rejection of trivial things known. Nonetheless, if Steve cared for you, you knew it based on the generosity of his time that he’d give you. He was always really curious about my thoughts on jazz, and we didn’t always agree, but I always appreciated the fact that he challenged me to think more deeply about the music I was studying in college.

More than anything, he was authentic. You could always count on Steve to be himself at all times, and I think that he truly understood that taking little things so seriously was not really worth it. Steve’s generosity with everything he learned from his life was unmatched. He always had time for you. In all of my years having known him, especially when I was younger, he was so generous with his time. We’d spend hours drinking tea and playing together. He was always so excited to tell me about what he’d been reading or practicing and I did the same. He is someone who loved fiercely and is missed by many.

Rest peacefully, my dear friend. You are already missed so dearly.

Here’s a link to Steve’s obituary in the local paper of the town where he resided.

Rhonda Edgington, Steve Jenkins, and Jordan VanHemert. October 2023.