Steve Bettis

I'm sitting, alone, at a table Goodman Coffee at Warehouse Row on a grey and rainy day in downtown Chattanooga, trying and failing to understand a world in which a perfect healthy 55-year old man can die of Covid-19 in less than two weeks. 

Steve Bettis was my fraternity brother (Kappa Sigma) at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville, when we were in school in the mid-1980's.  Beyond that, he was a husband, a father, a leader, a sports fan, and a friend.  

Steve and I didn't run in the same circles the last several years, in part because like so many of my college friends, he had children way before I did.  Still, I kept up with him through his annual golf trips with my law partner Mark, and friend, T.B., our participation in the Shortycorp football pool, and a network of mutual friends.  

College is such an emotionally intense memorable period of life.  At least, it was for me.  So many moments stand out for me, almost all of which involve my fraternity brothers.  Parties, intramural sports, road trips, football games, class, playing basketball or shooting pool at the fraternity house, or just sitting around, wasting time, and talking.  College seemed to last forever and, yet, it was over in a minute.  My memories of those years - 1984 to 1988 - survive and amazingly, Steve Bettis appears in almost all of them.

In my life, I don't think I've ever known anyone as enthusiastic and fun-loving as Steve.  As I write this, I can hear Steve laughing - a kind of roar that originated deep inside him and erupted like a volcano.  I can see him grinning, clapping me on the back, and grabbing me in a bear hug so hard it hurt.  Yelling my college nickname, one only he continued to use, 35 years later.  

"Butthead!"  And me, smiling sheepishly, hugging him back, and silently marveling at his outsized personality, genuine kindness, and friendliness, all wrapped up in one bone crushing bear hug. 

Steve was a force of nature.  A category five hurricane.  When he shined his light on you - and his light always, always shined brightly - you felt a reassuring warmth that made you happy to be alive.  

To know Steve, even in passing, was to love him and to be loved.  That was part of his gift, I think.  He had a heart the size of Texas and the singular ability to love others unabashedly and, in return to accept others' love.  

To me, Steve was indestructible.  A rock.  The heart and soul of my group of guys in our fraternity in the time we were there and later, as well.  For his family, Vivian, and his children Owen and Olivia - to lose him to Covid-19 is beyond tragic.  It's unfathomable.  

The memorial service today at the Baylor School in Chattanooga was pitch perfect but so very, very sad.  Watching my brother, Steve Short and Mike Dixon, eulogize Steve, broke my heart.  I feel numb.  We all feel numb.

Rest In Peace, Steve Bettis.  

AEKDB.