Steven Glober

Today, we gather to remember and honor my brother, Steven Glober.

Steven had a strong personality—anyone who knew him knows exactly what I mean. He had obvious convictions, especially when it came to politics, and he wasn’t afraid to stand by what he believed. You always knew where Steven stood. And whether you agreed with him or not, you respected that about him. He was real, he was honest, and he was never anything less than himself.

But Steven was more than just strong opinions. He had a deep love for life in his own way. He loved music— especially Grateful Dead. That kind of music says something about a person... it’s thoughtful, a little unconventional, and full of soul. That was Steven.

He loved books, ideas, and learning. He was curious about the world—and even beyond it. He had a fascination with space, with NASA, and with astronomy. There was something about the bigger picture of the universe that spoke to him.

Steven was also a Navy man, and that part of his life mattered deeply. After his accident and his disability, he didn’t just turn inward—he turned outward. He became involved with Disabled American Veterans, helping others who had gone through their own struggles. That says a lot about who he was at his core. He understood hardship, and he chose to use that understanding to give back.

About 27 years ago, Steven found a place that became a true home for him—Casa Di Roma in Oakland Park Florida. He was happy there. He got along well with the management and his neighbors, and he found a sense of comfort and community. That meant a lot, and it’s something our family is grateful he had.

He also loved movies—another way he connected to stories, ideas, and imagination.

And when I think about Steven, I don’t just think about all those things—I think about us as kids. Playing in the backyard with Tonka toys, digging around in the flower bed, just being young and not knowing how important those moments would become. Those are the memories that stay with you. Simple, ordinary days that turn out to mean everything.

Steven was part of a family that meant a great deal to him. He was the son of Herbert and Muriel, and the brother of Barbra and me, Howard. Those relationships are lifelong —they shape who we are, and they stay with us always.

That’s the thing about a life—it’s made up of all these pieces. The strong opinions, the passions, the service, the struggles, the small moments. And Steven’s life had all of that. It mattered. Thank you so much for being here. My last thought is something that I’ve realized in just the last few years. Love never dies.