From Dignity Memorial
Steve Brown passed away on February 26, 2025, just shy of his 80th birthday, in Boulder, Colorado—a place he loved and called home for most of his adult life. Though his passing was unexpected, it was peaceful, and he was surrounded by family.
Born on March 11, 1945, in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, Steve was the eldest son of Jim and Julia Brown and a loving brother to his sister, Debbie. Steve attended Catholic school before studying at Villanova University and graduating from Pennsylvania State University in 1969, setting the stage for a life defined by adventure, humor, and an insatiable curiosity about the world and the people in it.
Post a Tribute to Steve Brown
Tributes
We had fun with Triple Gem, if anyone remembers that operation 🤣❤️
Big Life, Big Mind, Big Steve Brown
Back in the early days of Boulder sangha, there were two Steve Browns. Everyone called them Big Steve Brown and Little Steve Brown to avoid confusion. That was pretty much the extent of my knowledge of (Big) Steve Brown.
Over forty years later, we struck up a correspondence, finding ourselves in similar practice circumstances and sympatico in our tastes and opinions on many matters. He was the full-time caregiver for his mother, living away from sangha, near Atlantic City in New Jersey. He practiced Vajrayogini every day, "in an attempt to keep my mind and body operating together." I loved his relationship with the dharma. He got up at 5:30 AM to spend an hour on the morning chants and then an hour of sitting.
I always figure if you're getting up early and practicing first thing, everything must be alright, even if it often feels fucked up. It took me a while after leaving Tail for that to internalize but it finally did and I’m glad for us all. A lot of people leave Tail and the roots die and that’s too bad.
...
Today I did Jambhala and it was interesting to note the differences in the two practices. Vajra Yogini is like going to work every day and Jambhala is like the weekend.
...
The elements are the dakinis.
One winter I spent a number of weeks visiting them. During this time I got to know Steve a little bit. He was intensely interested in many things, and intensely focused and disciplined with whatever he took up. He taught me to make yogurt and hovered over me, ready to freak out if I got one part of one step wrong. His procedure to feather the powder across top of the milk and whisk it in was as exacting as a surgeon's. He had had knee surgery and could no longer run, but walked, quite quickly, every day, the broad white-sand shore of the Atlantic Ocean on one side of us, a string of mansions, casinos, beach bars and tourist traps on the other. It wasn’t easy keeping up.
Steve had a tough time in Margate. Action Man was restless, constrained to a few miles' radius of caregiving and running errands. He talked constantly about returning to Boulder and being with his children and grandchildren. He was full of ideas and plans for the future — buy two trailer homes, one to fix up and rent out; move to Cozumel; live in an RV and travel each winter. I think my visiting was a reprieve for him because he had an excuse to get out of the house. We toured the craft breweries, geocached, and frequented the gigantic supermarkets. On his birthday his wonderful sister Debbie stayed with his mother while we drove down to Cape May for a whirlwind tour of the boardwalk towns, the birdwatching lookouts, the organic farms on meandering roads through verdant woods and fields, ending at a place with a hot tub and then a rush out again to find bathing suits just as the shops were closing, each of us scoring one at different places at the last minute. For him the whole thing was a minor miracle.
After his mother died, he did get his wish to move back to Boulder and be near his daughters and grandchildren. He loved spending time with them, and was proud of his dogsitting skills when “the kids” were out of town.
So far my kids are what I’ve always needed. That never changes though I’ve looked it real hard from time to time.
Over the phone, everything with him seemed fine and "as usual," except I did notice that he was repeating himself a little more than usual, it was taking him forever to set up his shrine room, and he had stopped going to the gym. The last time I called, I got his voicemail. And then, days later, a reply message, but from his daughter, that he was in the ICU.
A regular guy and a really good one at that. I will miss his unique dharma curiosity and introspection. I will miss his quick-witted humour. I will miss Big Steve Brown.
I think my ego is losing weight...
Just a joke, you're going to have to keep up.
