(1952-1991)
Born on June 2, 1952, to Eugene and Janice Krueger, Steven was an unsung hero, activist, and pioneer during his brief 38 years of life. While these titles were unknown to him, they are a testament to his enduring legacy.
From an early age, Steven displayed remarkable creativity. He had an exceptional ear for music, able to play the piano from memory, and sold his paintings while still in high school. His talents extended to the kitchen, where he enjoyed cooking. Though math and science weren’t his strengths, Steven excelled in language, spelling, and artistic expression. Raised in a Catholic family, Steven attended a Catholic school where he formed a lifelong friendship with Ricky. Together, they forged a deep bond that would carry them through countless adventures across the United States.
Steven’s passion for helping others emerged early. He worked as a CNA at Clearview in Juneau, Wisconsin, where he provided care to those in need. Afterward, he and Ricky embarked on their first of many moves, starting in Madison, Wisconsin, where Steven worked with children with special needs.
Over the years, Steven and Ricky moved between Wisconsin, California, and Texas. Steven’s career increasingly centered on his love for cooking, and their travels exposed him to new experiences and people. Along the way, Steven met Sally Struthers, attended memorable parties, modeled in a magazine, and, most importantly, embraced the freedom to love whom he wanted without reservation.
In 1988, while living in Houston, Texas, Steven was involved in a motor vehicle accident while riding his moped. The accident resulted in pins being placed in his leg, causing a permanent limp. This incident marked the first time Steven became aware of his HIV-positive status. That summer, he returned to Wisconsin to visit his family, an occasion that would be their last time seeing him alive. Concerned about the lack of information regarding HIV transmission, Steven urged his mother to burn the sheets he had slept on.
It is believed that Steven contracted HIV through sharing a needle with his roommate and boyfriend.
In November 1990, Steven began experiencing complications in his leg, likely linked to his HIV status. Bloodwork revealed that his condition had progressed from HIV to AIDS. The worsening leg complications led to a partial amputation below the knee. After receiving his diagnosis and undergoing the amputation, Steven called his closest sister to share the news. During the same conversation, he learned she was expecting his youngest nephew, Daniel—a bittersweet moment of joy amid his challenges.
On April 8, 1991, Steven developed a potential infection following a second surgery on his leg. A third surgery was required, but complications arose. Fully aware of the risks, Steven made the decision to become a Do Not Resuscitate (DNR) patient. When the complications proved insurmountable, his medical team honored his wishes, allowing him to pass peacefully.
Steven’s desire to help others endured even in death. He had donated his body to medical research, and immediately following his passing, his leg (from the hip down) and his lungs were used to advance research on AIDS and asthma.
At the time of his death, strict regulations prevented the transportation of AIDS patients’ bodies via commercial airlines. Steven was cremated in Houston, Texas, and his ashes were later transported to Wisconsin, where he was laid to rest.
The AIDS epidemic had officially begun on June 5, 1981, nearly a decade before Steven’s passing.
Steven was a trailblazer for his time, embracing his authentic self and living life with courage and resilience. His contributions to medical research through anatomical donations have likely played a role in advancing the fight against HIV/AIDS. Modern medicine has since achieved remarkable progress, offering longer life expectancies to those living with HIV and providing medications that significantly reduce the risk of transmission.
Steven’s memory continues to inspire his family and serves as a powerful reminder of the importance of compassion, authenticity, and the pursuit of knowledge. His life and legacy remain a beacon of hope and courage for all who hear his story.
