For the Love of Stephen

The Story of a Boy Who Was Never Broken

De: Stuart D. Jones PhD, Temple Grandin - foreword

Narrado por: Stuart D. Jones PhD

In 1954, Steve Jones entered the world fragile and premature, quickly labeled “broken” by doctors and dismissed by society. But his parents refused the prevailing wisdom of the time. They chose to keep him home, to raise him with dignity, and to believe in his worth.

For the Love of Stephen: The Story of a Boy Who Was Never Broken is the intimate, heartfelt memoir of a brother who witnessed firsthand the struggles and triumphs of a life lived on the margins of society. Through vivid storytelling, Dr. Stuart D. Jones traces Steve’s journey: his battles with exclusion, his breakthroughs in education, his humor and resilience, his friendships and love, and the tragedy that ended his life too soon.

By turns satirical, humorous, and deeply moving, this book illuminates both the progress made and the injustices that remain in how we treat people with intellectual and developmental disabilities.

Above all, it is a tribute to Steve himself—a man who was never broken, who lived with joy and dignity, and who continues to inspire through the story left behind.

©2025 Stuart D. Jones, Ph.D. (P)2025 Stuart D. Jones, Ph.D.

More Than a Memoir: Seeing, Loving, Including

This is a beautifully written, deeply human book and a clear 5-star read for me.

*For the Love of Stephen* is told in a voice that is unmistakably Stuart Jones: thoughtful, warm, quietly funny, and grounded in both scholarship and faith. His background as a PhD and former minister comes through in the way research, history, and reflection are woven into Stephen’s life story, yet never in a way that feels academic or inaccessible. Despite the depth of knowledge behind it, this memoir is remarkably easy to read, even for those without a background in neurological or developmental disabilities.

What resonated with me most was how fully Stephen (Steven) is presented as human. Not inspirational in a simplified or sanitized sense, but complex, emotional, funny, frustrated, loving, and deeply relational. I especially appreciated the author’s willingness to address the often-avoided truth that people with intellectual and developmental disabilities are sexual beings who long for connection, intimacy, and love. That honesty matters.

I’ll be honest: as an atheist, I was initially put off by the book’s strong Christian presence. However, as I continued reading, something meaningful shifted. Even when belief systems don’t align, the core message did. The book reminds us that science and systems can only take us so far, and that our most human instincts—love, care, advocacy, and responsibility for one another—are just as essential. That message deeply aligned with my own values.

Having grown up abroad in Europe and living with my own neurological disabilities, I found myself wishing for more international perspectives on intellectual disability. Countries such as the Netherlands, New Zealand, Canada, and parts of Europe are often recognized for stronger inclusion, public acceptance, and rights-based frameworks, which led me to wonder what the U.S. could learn from these models. One particularly powerful example is the Hidden Disabilities Sunflower Lanyard, used internationally as a voluntary way to signal non-visible disabilities and the need for understanding or support. It has become a lifeline for many when navigating public transportation, especially international air travel, offering tailored support through long lines, access to handicap lanes to reduce anxiety and overstimulation, and more compassionate interactions with staff from security to boarding.

From a more academic perspective—and speaking to my inner geek—I also wished for deeper historical context around IQ. Its roots in craniology and phrenology, the influence of Henry H. Goddard and early 20th-century classification systems, and the lasting harm those frameworks caused could have added further depth. I also would have appreciated clearer distinctions between Intellectual Disability and other neurological conditions, such as learning disabilities and motor disorders, which also fall under neurological disabilities in the DSM-5-TR. These critiques come from engagement, not disappointment; I wanted more because the book held my attention so completely.

At its heart, this is a love story. A sibling memoir that does not look away from injustice, does not shy away from discomfort, and refuses to reduce Stephen to a symbol. It asks readers to see people fully and to love them fiercely.

I’m grateful this story exists.