Stephanie Louise Jones Krimsier ~ September 24, 1949 – August 24, 2026
I have so many wonderful memories of my sister, Stephanie. And for that I am thankful. She wasn’t just my big sister, she was my guide through scary situations, my care giver when I wasn’t feeling well, an example for me to follow through my teens and, later, through motherhood.
My siblings and I were a foursome born from two people who were better at making babies than they were at raising them. Our parents broke up early on leaving us four, Stephanie, David, Me and Claudia to raise ourselves during our young and formative years. This created an unbreakable bond between us that exists even now.
One of my first memories is from when I was 3 and Stevie, as we siblings called her, was 7. It was the 1950s. She loved to sing songs and play with her dolls. I buried one of those dolls along with my toddler accomplice, Claudia. We searched and searched but never found the burial site. Stevie forgave us.
We sang songs and Stevie read stories out loud. She taught me how to play jacks, marbles and hopscotch. In those days Stevie loved Hershey Kisses and Bazooka Bubble Gum. She saved all the wrappers because they had comic strips inside. She enjoyed reading comics like Lil Abner and Archie.
It was then that we had a large German Shepherd named King. I was a little afraid of King, he was twice my size. When I had to go to the bathroom at night King would let out a blood chilling growl from the hallway. I’d run and wake Stevie and she’d take my hand and lead me to the bathroom. She wasn’t afraid of King because, as she put it, she raised him from a pup. I adored her for that, even though sometimes it made her mad. Stevie never stayed mad.
A few months ago, Stevie reminded me of one Halloween night that I’d forgotten . We planned our costumes for weeks and discussed the best way to navigate our little street for the most loot. Stevie almost always dressed as a Hobo with a charcoal smeared face, baggy clothes and a cloth bag tied to a stick. That year I wore a hand me down skeleton costume that was too long in the legs. I kept tripping and falling. Stevie picked me up every time. She finally got tired of that and told David and Claudia to go on their own. She took me home and it turned out I was sick. That night left me in awe of the huge sacrifice she made for me.
In the 1960s when radio stations played songs by The Platters and Sam Cooke, we’d listen and try to memorize our favorites. Momma had a collection of albums by Sarah Vaughan, Dinah Washington and Ella Fitzgerald. We spent many hours listening, memorizing and singing along. By the time the Beatles took over the air waves, Stevie had her own radio and record player in her bedroom. We’d sing and dance to the Beatles. We tried all the dance moves that we saw on American Bandstand like the twist, the jerk and the pony. But nobody could do the mash potatoes like Stevie. She crushed it.
When President Kennedy was assassinated, Stevie was 14 and came home from school crying. I didn’t understand what any of it meant so she explained it to me. And we cried together.
Her favorite things included The Beatles, Hershey bars and Clarks Teaberry gum. She entered radio contests and had an autographed photo of The Collins Twins from WQXI in Atlanta. Little did we know that Stevie would marry one of those twins.
As time passed her musical taste expanded to Bob Dylan and Donovan. Stephanie read books like Siddartha and The Prophet. Her hair grew long and she ironed it straight with an iron on an ironing board, quite the challenge. She married Tom Krimsier (AKA Tom Collins) when she was 19 and made her extra special brownies for the gathering afterwards.
She became pregnant early on with Eric and it was, for me, a great experience to watch Stevie blossom as her stomach expanded.
I visited her, Tom and baby Eric in Cedar Rapids, Iowa when I was 16 and losing my way. She glowed and told me all she ever really wanted was to be a wife, homemaker and a mother.
A few years later, she called me to say that she had found Jesus. I cried because I thought I’d lost her. I had lost many friends to the religious cults of the day. But she assured me she wasn’t joining a cult and that I hadn’t lost her. And she was right.
No matter where we were in our lives or what part of the country we lived in, we stayed in touch. I’m going to miss her Happy Holiday text messages. Her Facetime calls that she was much better at than me. And although I feel a huge hole in my heart, I am glad that her suffering has ended.
Stephanie was always one of those special people whose innate beauty, gracefulness, patience and kindness were genuine. She was just born that way.
She was predeceased by her son, Eric and leaves behind her husband of 57 years, Tom Krimsier, daughter Libby, son-in-law Jeff, grandson Gus, son Michael, daughter-in-law Blake, granddaughter Lorelai, and the remaining three of the Jones foursome.
Rest in Peace Dear Sister
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Unpublished work © 2026 Karen J Adams
