Stephen "Steve" Alan Lindstrom

Stephen (Steve) Alan Lindstrom, humanitarian and fierce advocate for the unhoused, dies at 79

Stephen Alan Lindstrom, 79, a humanitarian and retired health care executive who later reinvented himself as a teacher and as fierce advocate for the unhoused, died July 19, 2026, near his home in Franklin, Tennessee. His longtime partner, Georgette Arena, 62, was killed alongside him.

Steve was born on June 5, 1947, in Rockford, Illinois. In 1961, his father, Vern Lindstrom, a civil engineer, decided with his wife, Flora, to move the family to Scottsdale, Arizona. Without a house or a job waiting for them, they set out on Valentine's Day and drove straight through, chasing sunshine and new opportunities.

The family quickly settled into Arizona life. Summers brought family vacations to La Jolla, California, filled with bike rides and competitive rounds of family golf in which Steve and his mother, Flora, more often than not came out on top against his brother, Dave, and his father, Vern

He went on to the University of Arizona, where he cheered on football games, joined a fraternity, and formed lifelong friendships. In 1969, Steve joined the National Guard through an unexpected opening in Douglas, Arizona, alongside his lifelong friend Tom Nelson. He trained as a Military Police officer, a role shaped by the times — preparing to respond to both campus unrest at home and the realities of the Vietnam War abroad. His service during this chapter of his life reflected the resourcefulness and steady character that would define him throughout his years.

Steve built a long career in healthcare, beginning in insurance sales with Oliver Piltcher before rising to serve as President/CEO of PacifiCare of Arizona, Inc. He later served as a senior vice president at Healthways, where he championed the SilverSneakers program and found purpose in mentoring others in the industry. Over his career, he started many businesses, including PJ & Company, a children’s clothing line that was sold at Bloomingdale's in the 1980s. In 1995, he earned an MBA from the Thunderbird School of Global Management, and he went on to teach MBA students entrepreneurship at the University of Arizona. In his 70s, he returned to the classroom, teaching and taking courses through OLLI (Osher Lifelong Learning Institute) at Vanderbilt University. Fittingly for a lifelong learner, he also recently immersed himself in creative writing and improv comedy.

Before having children of his own, Steve was a foster parent and served as a Boy Scout leader, introducing camping and the adventure of scouting to a group of 8th grade boys who lacked access to those opportunities.

As a single father in the 1980s, Steve was one of a kind. He learned to braid hair, changed out of his suit and tie in parking lots to coach softball, and was known for his homemade chocolate chip pancakes at his daughters' sleepovers. He adored his daughters, believed fiercely in them, and never missed an opportunity to spend time with them and share how proud he was of them. He found new joy as a grandfather — creating woodworking projects, making home movies, and building trains, with heart and presence that was visible to all. He personalized the license plate on his 1990 Porsche to read "BAMPS," the name his first grandson gave him and one of his first words.

Steve survived several close brushes with mortality over the course of his life, including a serious mountain biking accident in 1992. Over the past 10 years, he battled both pancreatic and prostate cancer. He was ultimately cleared of the prostate cancer this year. Of that experience, he wrote: "I am most grateful for whatever time I have spent living the life I have been given and created. With several near-death experiences during my life, I have lived my life one day at a time."

He carried that same appetite for life into everything he did — travel, hiking, yoga, running, concerts, and playing soccer with his grandsons among them.

Steve's family was large and blended. He spent his final 11 years with his soulmate, Georgette Arena, who built her own career as a court reporter and gave her time to mentoring others and volunteering with CASA on behalf of children in foster care who had experienced abuse and neglect. Beyond his family, he devoted himself to service — working with the unhoused and in recovery communities, canvassing for causes he believed in with his daughters, engaging in political action, and fostering deep community and emotional connection with his male friends.

He often spoke of trying to live with intention. "As I move through the day, I try to see each encounter — whether with friend or stranger, human or more-than-human creation — as an opportunity to practice love," he wrote. "In living this way, I accept that I will not see the full harvest of my labor. So, I set my intention each morning: to be present, to be faithful, to be loving.”

Those who knew him remembered a man who loved life and the people he encountered, who lived with fun, curiosity, and an appetite for challenge, and who loved his family as much as his heart could provide. He had uncommon ability to connect with people. Whether talking with a CEO, a college student or an unhoused person, he offered respect, warmth and genuine interest. His grandsons, Graeme and Aaron, held a special place in his heart and adored him.

Steve is survived by his daughters, Cynthia Lindstrom Marich and Stephanie Lindstrom Herndon; his sons-in-law, Andrej and Andrew; his two grandsons, Graeme Bibolet Marich and Aaron Lindstrom Marich; his brother, David Lindstrom, and his wife, Connie; his nephew, Roger Lindstrom, and his wife, Jessica; and his niece, Beth Lindstrom.

In lieu of flowers, the family asks that memorial contributions be made to Open Table Nashville, Inc., a nonprofit organization dedicated to breaking the cycles of homelessness.