Steven Ray “Steve” Parratt was born in Clinton, Missouri to Harry Frank and Nellie Agnes (Houk) Parratt on August 30, 1953. He was the third son born into a family of four children—Orville (Keesler), Frank, Steve, and Norma. Steve was preceded in death by both parents, Harry Frank and Nellie Agnes (Houk) Parratt, a brother, Orville Keesler, and a granddaughter, Leslie Jean Hunter. He is survived by his only child, daughter, Jennifer Strong and husband, Stephen, of Fairhope, Alabama. Grandchildren, Steven Guynn (Fairhope, Alabama), Kendra (Strong) Wachner, husband Wesley of Virginia Beach, Virginia and Makayla (Strong) Johnson, husband Alex of Independence, Missouri, and two great-grandchildren, Emerson Sheek of Clinton and Kinsley Wachner of Virginia Beach, Virginia.
Steve lost his mother at the tender age of four and was raised by his father, Harry, and his paternal grandmother, Edna (McNutt) Parratt. Steve often shared a core memory with his daughter, Jenny, of when he was four and was missing his mama after she went to the hospital to deliver her last baby, Norma. He asked Harry “Dad, when’s Mom coming home?” Steve shared that his father was shaving at the time and had to set his razor down, gather himself and gently explain to his inquisitive boy, “Son, your Mama has gone to Heaven, and she ain’t ever coming back home.” Nellie had just passed a few hours earlier after delivering Norma Jean. This affected all of the children’s lives drastically and placed a void in their hearts that was unfillable. This was a tragedy that was handled by Harry’s village—his mother, Edna, and his aunt Edith. Steve frequently reminisced with Jenny at what life was like living in a two-bedroom bungalow on Green Street with 3 siblings, a grandmother, and father, wherein many weekends and summers also included his cousins staying over—Sandy (Nance) and Robert Neal Scrogham, Beatrice (Parratt) Bilbruck and Tracia (Parratt) Weakley. He liked to tell stories of when they were nearly whipped to death by Grandma Edna for being ornery; riding bikes, playing games, fishing, hunting—especially with his Dad. Steve idolized his father Harry stating “he was a man above most men, they don’t make them like him anymore.” He frequently remembered playing baseball and football and how he loved sports, but hated school. Steve had many good buddies that would come over after school and play pool with him and his brother, Frank. When he was 16, Steve met Diane “Dee-Dee” Claypool in high school at the local skating rink and they fast became sweethearts. Steve and Dee-Dee liked to cruise the square and just plain be together; unfortunately, like many relationships in the teenage years, a son was conceived, born and placed for adoption in 1971. The two were soon separated by heartbreak at not being allowed to marry and all that that brings two young people who are in love. Steve directly went into the Marine Corps upon graduation and proudly served his country from 1971—1975. This was an accomplishment he was rightfully proud of, but like most Vietnam-era soldiers, he sacrificed his peace in the name of freedom. He was never the same and daily battled those demons ever so courageously—terms such as “PTSD” did not exist back then, but this one proud, act of service ultimately cost him his marriage and his peace of mind. Anyone who knew and loved Steve knew this about him and just accepted this was just “the way he is. He was as sweet as Santa, but came with a temper that could erupt at any given moment.” Steve and Diane reunited in 1975—were married in Clinton, Missouri and moved to San Diego/Orange County, California to complete the rest of his service to the beloved corps. To this union one daughter was born the day after his birthday in 1976, Jennifer “Jenny” (Parratt) Strong. Steve and Diane loved each other very much and their daughter, even more. However, that union struggled and survived for only eight years, but they frequently came together to successfully co-parent and co-grandparent over the years. Steve never remarried.
Steve received an honorable discharge from the Marine Corps, joined the Local 20 Roofer’s Union and retired after 30 years. Besides his years in the military, Steve lived most of his life in Clinton, Missouri and moved to Lowry City, Missouri country around 24 years ago. He preferred a quiet, secluded life, but enjoyed the rare visitor and spending his time with his local friends, especially his best friend, Jerry Bonner, who he referred to as “my brother from another mother.”
In 1980, Steve was invited to the Assembly of God Church in Clinton, Missouri. There, he accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior and was instrumental in the formation of his daughter’s faith journey, as well. Jenny and Steve constantly talked of the grace of Christ and how without the love of God, nothing is possible. Jenny looked forward to her daily talks with her Dad on the way home from work where he would ask how the patients were all doing, she would tell him, he would remember things about his childhood, share memories, and she always looked forward to her Dad’s sayings. Amongst her favorite were, “I’m not a complete dummy, don’t let the clothes fool you,” “Beam me up Scotty, there’s no form of intelligent life around here...followed by "Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doooooooo (Jenny knows how this one goes, you’ll have to have her demonstrate).” One of his best attributes was being able to help you laugh even when life was hard, “life is tough, but you’re tougher, you’re my kid after all” he would frequently say. Jenny appreciated his wit/humor oftentimes especially when he would state the obvious in life and follow it up with pause and then say “WRITE THAT DOWN.” Some good examples are “Coffee is hot, don’t spill it in your lap (pause)…. write that down” or “never fry bacon naked (pause)…. write that down.” His humor and wit were endless. Steve was a very intelligent and well-read man; frequently would read up to 2-3 books per day. He especially loved novels by James Patterson, Stephen King, and Patricia Cornwell, among others. However, his favorite book, by far, was The Bible. He had read it from front to back multiple times in his life. He would say “my favorite parts are the words in red, they are the most important (pause)…write that down.” He hadn’t owned a television in years. He listened to his beloved Cardinals and Chiefs on the radio, all his favorite music and most of his news came from the radio and the newspaper. Jenny, her husband Steve, and the grandbabies all got a BIG treat to go see his favorite rock and roll hero of all time, Bob Seger, in his last farewell tour, 3 rows back from the stage. It was important to Steve to be able to experience that with his daughter and the whole family. No matter the cost, he made it happen. Watching Steve sing, sway, and yes, even cry to his favorite Seger tunes was a spiritual experience. Steve was young again for just a few hours and his eyes were like that of a little boy watching his favorite star. He loved the simple things in life…a good pot of coffee, bacon and eggs every morning, conversation with a beloved friend or his daughter, a good book, hummingbirds, blowing his and everyone else’s leaves when he was physically able, and most of all…a good, cold beer.
Other hobbies included hunting, fishing, and learning to live off the land. Jenny remembers her Dad frequently bringing home whatever was in season as a little girl—rabbits, squirrels, deer, turkey and her dad cleaning and processing it all himself. She used to get into trouble for getting into his truck and picking up the animals/touching them by her mother, “put down that squirrel down, you’re gonna get sick!” Steve would tell Jenny “it’s okay baby, it’s the only time you can hold them and they won’t bite you.” He frequently took Jenny fishing, where he taught her how to bait her own hook and clean her own fish. He would load up, throw in a Bob Seger eight track and sing the entire way to and from the excursion. As a little girl, Jenny thought her Daddy looked and sang exactly like Mr. Seger and frequently asked him, “Daddy, are you really Bob Seger?” He would laugh and tease her “Maybe…but don’t tell your mom.” That was all Jenny had to hear; everyone got the news at school and in church, “My Dad isn’t really Steve, he’s Bob Seger, but don’t tell my Mom.” Fishing was special for them; so, he tried to branch out and take the child deer hunting once, but right before he dropped a big doe Jenny had a change of heart and screamed, “Don’t shoot her, Dad, she might be a mother!” He loved to tell that story; Bambi’s mom was saved by the bleeding heart of a child. Arrowhead hunting was probably one of his most favorite hunts of all time, though. Over his lifetime, he had discovered close to 5 thousand arrowheads—walking the creek in his free time was a form of therapy for him. His children and grandchildren will have these artifacts for years to come and pass down, thanks to his care and diligence.
Ten months ago, Steve was preceded in death by his oldest granddaughter, “Leslie Jean” Hunter. It literally broke his heart. Not a night would go by the daily phone conversations didn’t end with this heartache and the painful memory of holding his crying baby while they were burying his baby’s baby. It tore him to pieces—he would say “I was there when she was born and it feels wrong to be burying her, I’m supposed to go first. I miss her so terribly.” It was his deepest wish to be able to hug Leslie Jean again one day, as well as his father, and meet his Lord and Savior “soon, but not too soon.” This is where he would add that he may have another 10 to 12 years to be able to watch his grandson and namesake, Steven Michael, graduate from lineman school in Georgia, maybe one day get married, his beloved step granddaughters, Kendra and Makayla continue to grow their families, and spoiling his great grandbabies; Steve was good at that. Many a child in our family, including his ex-wife’s daughter, would receive a multitude of toys and their first motorized vehicles from Grampa Steve; he was virtually Santa to the grandbabies and anyone who touched his heart. His daughter was settled and happily married in Fairhope, Alabama and he was continuing to think about quite possibly joining Stephen and Jenny in the Bay House and getting his own Bay Boat to captain, he just had to “do something with all this stuff.”
However, he never made it to Fairhope physically, and Jenny will have to experience it with him only in spirit.
Steve was incredibly generous and didn’t like a fuss made about it. A story that was shared was a neighbor of his and his wife had a horrible car accident. Somehow a generous amount of money made it to this family, and they learned where it came from and never forgot what that helped them be able to do. Steve didn’t do it for the recognition, it’s just who he was. If he could help, especially if children were involved, he did. He had a soft spot for the elderly, children, and animals, especially if they weren’t being fed or cared for properly. He never claimed to be perfect, and in fact, would say “I have a lot to be sorry for, but I know Jesus loves me, died on that cross for me, forgives me, and will one day welcome me home.” He placed all his trust in that; Christ alone. In closing, Steve was a complicated man who loved a simple life, his country, the Marine Corps, and the Lord Jesus Christ with all of his heart (pause) …write that down. Semper Fi, Marine.
Arrangements have been entrusted to Vansant-Mills Funeral Home in Clinton, Missouri.