Recently I was at an early childhood conference in Anaheim, CA and was asked to build a memory from childhood using odds and ends of collage materials (similar to what we might have a child do)--we then had to share it with the person sitting nearest us. I sat quietly for a few moments, then began to build. Soon I found myself describing what I had attempted to create: I had built the garage behind the house on Brown street and described to the woman next to me--the overnights we would have up there. After dark, we would ride our bikes down Dillon St to Ford Rd -- there was a little party store--Betty's, I think.... and we would buy all kinds of penny candy and take it back to the garage and eat until we got sick--- I also remember taking a few Kent cigarettes from my mom's purse and Annie and I tried smoking them in the little playhouse on the back lot--that faced Marquette St.

There's a flood of childhood memories--all that include Annie:

playing dress-up in my basement--with my brother, Mike and Skip DeGeorgio spying on use through the "cellar" wall--they had drilled holes through the walls--

The Thanksgiving parades in downtown Detroit--Anne was always afraid we'd get lost

The acorn wars with the kids from both streets--Annie and I would always be the spies from Marquette Street--watch where the "Brown" kids hid their acorns--

making "stink bombs" in basement-- mostly for Pam Roberts--down the street

These all sound like we were "bad, little mischief-makers"-- but really we were just normal little kids growing up at a great time in a great neighborhood.

Anne and I always ended up playing whatever my brother and his friends talked us into--army, GI Joe, making forts on the empty lots across the street, baseball, .....

Our trip to Washington DC when we were 14--the airlines went on strike so we had to take a bus--we thought we were so big-- we stayed at my Aunt Ruth's apartment on Scotts Circle--we took the bus everywhere--Georgetown etc.

Teen Club--up at Saint Raphael's--lots of dances and parties--deciding who liked who and making sure we didn't like to same guy--going to Lake Kensington park-- we sure had some great times together

The day Annie called me while we were both in Lansing and asked me to meet her and Chuck at the courthouse--they were getting married--I think it was on Valentine's Day--then Anne and Jeanne and I all getting married (Annie and Chuck having the marriage blessed) all within 6 weeks during the summer of '72.

Anne was a big part of my life and I've always been sorry my children never knew her--I still have the little silver scissors she gave me when I graduated from high school--she etched my initials in them with one of Dr. Schmitt's drills. I still carry them in my purse.

Reading the old letters from Anne, I am reminded of her intelligence, wit, beauty, and how she was always ahead of her time. She never cared a whit what anyone thought of her. She was quilting, recycling and organic gardening in the early seventies, and man, could she make a pie! Looking at her pictures from high school and early college years, I see that Anna has a lot of Anne's features.

We grew up together, sharing a room and being the nemesis of each other. I always felt I was in competition with her for Mom's love, especially since Anne always needed "special care." I especially remember being resentful that we all used to have to "harvest" ragweed in the neighborhood so it wouldn't affect Anne. I never cared what anyone else got, but if Anne got something, then I'd better get it too!! I remember more than once enforcing that imaginary line down the center of the double bed!

When we were teens, everyone always thought she was older than me, which irked me to no end!! So you see, I was really always irritable about having to play second fiddle to Anne!

Anne was always a very noisy sleeper (due to hay fever and asthma) and her breathing always kept me up all hours of the night. I hated her guts!!!

Anne was the kind of guy that older men were attracted to. In high school, when she was just a freshman, I remember one incident where a date with a senior ended up with her making a break for the door and walking home!! She always had what I would call an "old spirit." Maybe this was from spending so many months up at the lighthouse in L'Anse, where she learned to make pasties, pies, and other pastries. This was a fortunate accident for our family, since Mom didn't "do" pies.

When she was about 15, she got her ears pierced. I'm sure she must have forged something that said she was 18, because this was STRICTLY against Mom's rules. As I recall, she got grounded, but I do believe Mom didn't quite believe she had actually done it, and Mom didn't quite know how to handle it. Her perfect child!!

In about her third year at MSU, she and Chuck got married at the courthouse. The purpose was to obtain a legal marriage certificate so they could qualify for married housing. Anne never told Mom she was legally married, so poor Mom spent a year or so in agony because Anne was "living in sin." Well, this is because Anne herself didn't recognize the marriage as a legal one, since it wasn't performed in the Catholic Church. I don't think Mom knew about the first marriage until after the second one was performed on Brown Street.

The first year she was married, she lived in Lansing, and we used to hold joint garage sales at her house on the main drag in Lansing. Her Japanese mother-in-law was always unloading cool stuff on her, so Anne's take for the day would be something like $300, and mine would be $50. I would work the till nonstop while she worked the crowd. She really knew how to do that!! She also had a large sign posted, "FRESH FLOWERS," and cars would screech to a halt when they saw it. The garden she had on that little city lot was a showstopper.

It was very hard to lose Anne. I spent just about the whole year and a half of her illness in denial, and had to take to my bed for a week after her death. Even now I really miss being able to call her up, or spend weekends at her and Chuck's place in Bangor. She had regretted that she hadn't had children before she died. She had her funeral planned, down to the cloth casket (cheapest). I'm sure she was upset when she found out she couldn't use a recycled one!

After Anne's death in December 1977, I promptly got pregnant and Anna was born the following October. The way Anna and I get along, I think there's definitely a little of Anne's spirit in there somewhere!

They say it never rains in Southern California, but uncle Mark was sure to warn me. Uncle Mark was Mr. Hospitality, on or off the clock, and he made me feel at home in his own home, or whichever home we happened to be in together.

When I was in college at the UofM, I'd visit Grandpa Schmitt in Garden City during the summers, and when serendipity rang, uncle Mark would be around for the weekend. I was always put to work in the yard under his kind tutelage and was impressed at his ability to travel graciously. His relaxed air stays with me to this day as I travel to inviting destinations.

When I moved to California 3 years ago, Uncle Mark rolled out the welcome mat from 300 miles away. The day I arrived, my brother John handed me a letter from Uncle Mark telling of his friend Susan, her imminent move to Illinois, and how I would do well to attend her San Jose garage sale.

I wasn't in California long before I knew that I had to fly down to see the golden state in my uncle's eyes. I took my brother John down for a labor day with Uncle Mark, with Uncle Mark giving the sunny "tur" from behind the wheel of his grand bonneville. He gave us a sample of Hollywood, and fulfilling meals with Denise & Gilbert as well as a signature pot of chili of his own devising which I can taste to this day. Uncle Mark always described my experience living in a cooperative house at UofM as: "you know, he lived in one of those communes where you only eat brown rice" but he made sure to feed me some heavy food whenever he was in the kitchen.

At the end of every visit to NoHo, Uncle Mark would take me out to the curb, pop open the trunk of his Bonneville, and have me pick through all of his shirts and belts on their way (some doing a round trip) to the second hand stores. I think of Uncle Mark every time I open the closet, as 1/3 of the shirts in there are his. For those that know my closets, that includes the work closet and the play closet. He was always encouraging my sartorial soirees, from Garden City to North Hollywood.

What impressed me most about my Uncle Mark was his penchant for the right words at the right time. He was always direct with me, and with others in my presence.

This way with words woke me up when he called to arrange our last meeting. He had called my house to invite John, Francimar, Carolyn, and I to a party in honor of his 50th birthday, and John had told him that we wouldn't be able to make it, as our parents were coming on that day from Houston. When I got the message that Uncle Mark had called I was interested in the party, but wouldn't think of jetting off while my parents were in town for a visit.

A few days went by and I received another call from Uncle Mark letting me know that I wouldn't want to miss his party, and he was pretty clear that I wouldn't miss it. I explained the business about my parents coming, but he was sure that I would figure out a way, and he detailed a couple of options for getting down to his pad. As it happened, my parents had plans to visit someone else for a day while they were with us, so Carolyn and I drove down to LA in a hurry (not so fast, you have to take detours when the hills are on fire). His party was fabulous.

My father always says the key to doing well in life is to pick good parents. My Uncle Mark did that, and went further to pick good brothers and sisters and friends and nieces and nephews.

This nephew is happy to have spent some rainy days listening to Diana Ross on a cozy couch on Camellia St in good company.

Thanks for all the goodies on Anne and Mark. I remember that little house Anne wrote about "on the main drag" I was lucky enough to be missioned (Diocesan Office) in Lansing during the years Lucy and Anne were at MSU. That little house was like a doll/play house-so tiny. Whenever I stopped in , for whatever, I had very interesting tales to share with my office cohorts. Anne always had something interesting going-and I DO remember the "vegetable stand". Some of our office personnel bought from it!

As I start, a little ancient history of our family seems to be in order.

Eileen Mary LaBranche and Francis Mathias Schmitt were married in the Post Chapel, Ft. Bragg, North Carolina on January 7, 1943. We had planned the wedding for January 6, but Eileen’s checked luggage did not arrive from Flint when she did. That was the first big event in our lives where we went to an alternate plan, now sometimes called Plan B.

As sometimes happens in a marriage, a child was born. We named him Thomas Martin. When Thomas was about 7 months old the Allies were losing the war in Europe. The United States was in a massive Military buildup and I was ordered to a new unit then forming at Ft. Bragg. The 114th US Army 1000 Bed General Hospital which had the capability of expanding to 2000 beds if the need arose. The personnel came from all over the U.S. After a short time together we departed from Ft. Dix, N.J. in a large convoy.

In the five days before we reached a safe port in Scotland our convoy was protected by Destroyer Escorts which we could see circling on the Horizon. German Submarines sunk many ships as they tried to reach European Ports. We arrived at our destination near Kidderminster, England Early in July 1944. We quickly set our hospital together and were soon treating Army personnel who had been injured in combat.

After we left Ft. Bragg, The Quartermaster Corps packed all our belongings, including a waste basket with all its contents, and shipped them to Flint. Eileen and Tom went separately by train to Flint and established their home at 609 W. 3rd Street in a small upstairs apartment above Grandpa and Grandma Gatschene, also in July 1944.

Time passed and we learned that our second child was to be born. On March 4, 1945 in Woman’s Hospital in Flint where Eileen had been a Nurse, Richard was born. And then the Doctor said, "There is another baby there." That baby is now Mary Frances Masal.

Time passed, the War in Europe ended on VE Day, May 8, 1945. I came home and was immediately given 30 days leave. During that leave, in August 1945, Japan surrendered and the war ended with VJ Day August 15, 1945. It took some time but I was discharged about September 16, 1945. That meant I was unemployed with a wife and three children.

While in the service I had read with interest about the Children’s Fund of Michigan which had been established by former Senator Cousens to provide dental care for underserved children in several counties in Michigan. They had a training center in Royal Oak which I was able to reach by Greyhound Bus from Flint. During the indoctrination period I quickly learned that their mission did not fit my mission.

me to Doctor Vogel. Dr. Vogel’s primary office was on Michigan Avenue near Livernois. 29627 Ford Road was his satellite office where he also was solo. He agreed to give me the two small rooms in the NE corner of his building, and we would share the waiting room and the lab and basement. After consulting with Eileen we decided I would locate my practice at 29627 Ford Road. We would try it for 5 years hoping we would be accepted in the community. If not, we would have to seek our fortune elsewhere. As Doctors Steiner, Procalo, Rowe and Jaynes joined Dr. Vogel they built larger quarters at the corner of Ford and Brandt. They were going to include a small office for me. I asked if I could stay where I was and use the rest of the lease. They agreed. Later I was able to buy the building and stayed there for about 45 years. The 5th year of our 5 year plan passed unnoticed. We had been accepted and never thought of leaving. That’s how we happened to live in Garden City.

Since I had no car, and new or old ones were not readily available in late 1945 and 1946, I went to Flint by bus on week ends. I had a room in "The Bomb Cellar" on Ford Road near Shodka. April 1, 1946 I saw my first patient and had patients every day after that.

Veterans received some breaks in those days. Soon we reached the top of a list for a small house in Norwayne which I could also reach by bus. We were happy to be together again at 34032 Caseville Court, Wayne, Michigan. Soon the Jeep Dealer in Garden City was able to get me a Jeep Station Wagon and we were really living again.

In 1947 Paul Michael was born. He was a cute baby and his crib occupied only a small corner of our little 2 bedroom house. In 1948 Mark Joseph joined our family. It was time for more change. Our children were getting bigger which made our little house seem smaller.

We had been looking for a house in Garden City, but now we really looked. Soon we found 5910 Lathers which was just what we needed on a large lot in a nice neighborhood close to my work. We moved later in 1948 and were very happy there. Our children went to Mrs. Sweet’s Kindergarten on Harrison Street and then to St. Raphael’s School. On Lathers Street, the children had nice playmates in the neighborhood. The adults were friendly, especially the Donners, Wycors and Smiths.

October 1957 we moved to 31211 Brown Street which has been a great place. The children have grown and left home which is a normal pattern. However, when the children come home with their children which happens on holidays this house becomes small. Normally I could do with smaller quarters, which I consider, but so far there is no great pressure to move again. We have a good neighborhood. We look out for each other¸ but we have lost too many spouses. But enough of history.

This is supposed to be about Mark who was about 9 years old when we moved to Brown Street. One of the pluses for Brown Street was that the kids could walk to school, which they did. Mark loved life on Brown Street as I think all of us did and I still do.

When we lived on Lathers, Mark sometimes rode a bike to school. Once on his way home, by the Garden City Maternity Hospital, next to the Bomb Cellar, he was hit by a car leaving the Hospital. When he reached home he made no mention of it. His mother noticed his clothes were dirty and asked why? Then he told her about it. I guess he didn’t ride his bike to school after that.

Mark had many friends at St. Raphael’s. His classmates and other friends often had get-togethers, a practice that always continued whenever he would come to town.

Mark followed his brothers Richard and Paul to U of D High School. He completed 9th grade there but then elected to go to Garden City High West which I think had just opened.

He enjoyed a better social life at West and when they later had reunions he seemed to be one of the organizers.

Mark went to Washington, D. C. soon after High School. I have been in touch with Anne Davies of South Salem, N. Y. who knew him there. She said that Mark was her first Boss.

She said she was sorry to learn through life that not all bosses were like Mark. She now works at a Travel Agency in NYC. It was through her that Mark arranged for tickets for his final trip home, and she was able to get a refund for his return ticket, which I think might have been a non-refundable ticket. He had good friends in many places in this world.

Mark loved to come to Brown Street, which he did a couple of times each year. He always brought his favorite clippers, a Felcro, and ideas to make Brown Street prettier. He planted most of the myrtle beds we now enjoy. He loved the ferns which come forth each Spring. He enjoyed sharing with Mrs. Hammer. She has so much shade that some of the plants he shared didn’t prosper.

Mark came for a visit on July 15, 1998 and planned to return August 10. He trimmed the hedges and other bushes and did the usual other seasonal things he would do around the yard. He noted that the stairs were a bit difficult for him. They had never bothered him before. I noticed his work periods were shorter, but so are mine, and I thought nothing of it. Mark used to enjoy using my Citation when he was home. When I passed it on to Crissy he was somewhat reluctant to use my car which I was willing to share with him. Early this visit we went to Lucy and Mort’s. They loaned him their Pontiac (formerly Cheryl and Philip’s). He visited his friends as usual. He made a trip to Naperville, IL for a wedding of one of his travel friends. In fact he took his tux and gave away the bride. She sent some pictures of Mark. On the return he stopped overnight with Joe and Veronica in Chicago.

The following Monday we drove to Stoney Lake, near Lake Michigan, where Lucy’s family had a cottage for the week. Mort’s parents and brother were there and some of their grandchildren the first night. Mark slept very little, if any, that night. The next day, Tuesday, he exhibited a severe shortage of breath. If he walked a few feet, he would have to sit and breathe deeply for several minutes. We communicated with his care givers in LA. About 10 PM Debbie who had followed him in LA advised us to get him to an emergency room, she thought he was having a recurrence of pneumonia. Mark needed help to get to the car. Lucy did not want me to go with her, she said she could handle it. When they got thru Admissions and into the ER an Xray was taken which showed a clear chest. However, his hemoglobin was very low, and they wished to take another blood sample. Lucy assured them that it could be that low, like 3.3. The Doctor proceeded with his examination. Mark was lucid, had an answer to each question except one which he misunderstood. The doctor ask what his normal pulse was, and Mark said 130/80. Lucy said, "No Mark, your pulse rate." Mark answered, "Usually 72." At that time his pulse was 110. A very short time later Lucy said he sort of rolled his eyes upward and was gone, very peacefully. Lucy stayed to make necessary arrangements. This was well after midnight. The local morticians were called. Soon two well dressed men, a father and son appeared and took Mark’s body for preparation for the trip to Garden City. Santeiu’s sent two men who did not return from the round trip on a rainy day until about 10:30 PM. on Wednesday.

The family was at Santeiu’s to receive Mark’s and our many friends on Friday. All Mark’s siblings came home for his funeral as well as several of his friends from California and Illinois. James Schmitt came too as did Joe and Veronica, Paul Frederic and Carolyn, and Susie. Saturday Father Prus said a Mass for us at Santeiu’s Chapel at 10 AM. A wedding had been scheduled for St. Raphael’s. Many of us went for the burial at Holy Sepulchre Cemetery, Auntie Eve led the services there. We then gathered back at St. Raphael Activity Building where the Ladies had prepared a lunch. Richard and Pietrina had a color picture of those present on the last family newsletter. It is a very impressive group. Eileen and I, in our fondest dreams never had a vision like that.

I wish to thank all of you who are and have become a part of our family. We have had many sorrows which we would like to forget so we can get on with our lives. We have had many more happy memories.

The Family of St. Raphael Parish has offered many Masses and prayers for all of us.

I will list them as soon as I get back to Garden City and send them to Richard and Pietrina.

When we went out to L.A. to visit Veronica's Uncle Mark, we went to church and brunch with our Mark. On the way to church, Mark related a favorite story (which he told us again the last time we saw him): A Mexican couple he knew asked him to be godfather to their newborn. He was asked to fill out a form, giving dates of sacraments, etc. He said it was translated into broken English, and not too well. One question asked, "Are you a practical Catholic?" He answered YES, with much satisfaction. "That's just how I like to think of it," he told us, "Practical."

We all grieve in our own way, and I made mine that I would finally start to deliver on my promise to him to put the old family letters into a format we could all share online. I typed in all his letters back to 1973, and even though I had read them before ten years ago, have learned more about him. I noticed that he started his job in "incentive travel" when he was the same age as I am, and that coincides with when I remember seeing him more at Thanksgiving.

I thought going over all those letters would depress me, but reading his letters always cheered me up. I hope it does for you. He always had a positive attitude and an infectious enthusiasm, and I think comes through in his letters. I feel like I read him and he is still talking to me.

Mark, like many of his other siblings, liked to use odd pieces of stationary for his letters. The funniest was 11/9/77 when he typed it on the back of a 1973 Inaugural Parade flyer for Nixon and Agnew. He typed the back half of the letter right across their faces.

I won't lie and say Mark was my favorite uncle, but my relationship with him was special. Unlike Phil, Alice, Martha, Michael, Tom, Bev, and Grandma and Grandpa, who were a part of my life back farther than I can remember, I can remember when I began to know Mark well. After my second tough year of college, I spent a week on Brown Street around Father's Day before returning to Chicago for my summer job. I thought to hang out with Philip, but he was away that week. Mark and I seemed to be waking at the same time (much later than the other residents), so I just tagged along with him all week. I had a lot of fun, and got to relax, which was what I needed. As I write I realize that that was just ten years ago. At that point I had little money, and since it was summer, more time, and so it was probably the right time to spend a week with him.

We were both grateful that we got one last hour with Mark on his way back to Lucy's from a wedding out in the western suburbs here. Veronica will always remember his last words to us were to tell me that since we both work, we should get a housekeeper.

My first Thanksgiving at Brown Street (2 years ago), Mark had sent gifts to people-- he sent Joe five Christmas stockings that Mary had made for Christmas in California.

I remember having dinner at Chinois, with both our Uncle Marks & Dan, after which we went out to Santa Monica pier. He is the first person I know who can't ride a roller coaster due to a heart condition. When we went to mass at St. Delores in Tuluka Lake, he tells us that Bob Hope's wife, Delores, goes to mass here. After mass we went to breakfast, and he ordered "everything that was bad for me." At his house he went through his baby book and family pictures with us, and gave us all the "dirt" on everyone.

I loved hearing about his job at Salou-- Mia's tree, paid for by Woody; Yoko's apartment in the Dakota; Springstein's girlfriend; etc.

The last time I saw him we were sitting right where I am now writing this. He was thinner and had lost some hair, but I never thought it would be the last time I would see him. If I had any idea, I would have thrown my arms around him and told him how special he was and how much everybody loves him. But really he already knew. I feel so fortunate to have known him, even if it was for a very short time. I am so happy my family got to know him a little as well. My family was so sorry to hear the news. I told Grandpa Schmitt once before, he has such a wonderful family and everyone is so sincere and genuine, I am so proud to call myself a Schmitt. He thanked me for the flattery and told me it was all true. And although I never knew Anne or Eileen (my loss, as Auntie Ev told me, and I know it), I am very thankful for the chance to know Mark and all of the Schmitts (and Outlaws). Mark was a wonderful example for people to see how one should live life. He will be missed by many.

I agree with Auntie Ev, that God is going to have a fabulous Christmas this year.

You must remember Doris-- the wood framed antique cigarette poster ad that Mark cherished. Ha..... it doesn't seem remotely possible that its been 30 years since we were at St. Vincent de Paul Thrift Shop in Washington DC; a Saturday afternoon and we were out interior decor shopping. We probably had $14 between us, if that, and I felt that a better use of our funds would be on a nice dresser or chair. But there in the basement leaning against a wall was the lovely Doris Duke -- evidently staring at Mark, or so he claimed. So that was it. He was not to be dissuaded from having her. She will be worth a lot of money some day. So we laid out our funds and Doris came home with us. -- on foot. (he was SO convinced of her value, our bus fares paid the tax. :-) And she's been with us ever since.

This past year a show started on PBS called Antiques Roadshow. It is an hour each week from a different city in America of antique appraisers inspecting the heirlooms and trinkets of hundreds and hundreds of people who wait in line for hours for an estimate of what their treasure is worth. We are both absolutely fascinated with it. Some of the most amazing JUNK that would be worth thousands; and an occasional grand dame with her heirloom dynasty vase...... which turned out to be bad forgery. (Cheap thrills I expect, but we both loved those great moments.) Monday nights at 8:00pm , never missed it. It was Mark's plan, goal, Dream to finally once and for all PROVE Doris' worth when the Roadshow came to the LA Convention Center this fall. This past winter as we watched the show, he seemed to become more attune to the long lines of people waiting in each area of the show, art, jewelry, furniture..each one had long lines. It is a popular event. And in the past few months as we had to stop and rest on benches in the shopping mall, AND , for the FIRST time ever he wanted to be dropped off at the front entrance of the movie theatre instead of walking from the parking lot, I knew he wondered if he'd make it to take Doris for the moment of truth. :-)

So Doris and I will go alone. Oh I doubt that they'll pronounce her priceless...... but I'll bet they'll say better than #12 and bus fare.

To me, Mark was a holiday. We didn’t speak every week, or even every month, but there were certain times of the year that you knew he was coming and it would be entertaining. The time of year would usually be Thanksgiving and around his birthday. He would always call, invite himself out, and show up with the perfect gift.

At Thanksgiving he would be on his way to New York City, with a stop over in Garden City. He was the florist to the stars and other "rich people". He would often come back to Garden City with the latest in Christmas decorations and the stories of how the other half lived. He loved to spot the stars both in New York and L.A., but of course, he would always respect their privacy.

Mark would come back to Michigan right around his birthday, which was also the time of year that my peonies bloom, I can still see him taking a dozen white peonies, cutting them and placing them in a vase, and say, "Viola! $150.00 arrangement in New York City!". The year that Mark was diagnosed he didn’t come home for his birthday, so we sent him peonies via UPS Next Day Air. Mark was going out of town on the day they were shipped, but they lasted until he came home, and he enjoyed them for about a week after that.

Mark always enjoyed gardening and when he was in town, he was the plant delivery guy, bringing me some of Bev’s Sweet Woodruff, and then taking plants from my place to swap with Bev, or to take up to Lucy’s, or to take back to Dad’s house. He would help with placement, the old point to a spot and Amy plants, and when we were done, we would congratulate ourselves and he would always say, "And, it was in the budget!". Anything free was, "in the budget," and I will use that expression for the rest of my life.

Greg is my soul mate, but Mark was my teammate.

At Mark’s funeral I asked if I could take the vase from Mark’s friends in California. I dried all the flowers I could and the rest went into a potpourri basket with the rest of his funeral flowers. The vase is perfect for peonies in June, and I plan to use it for that purpose every year in celebration of his birth.

A wise man once told my husband and I, on our wedding day, to enjoy the holidays. He told us there would be a lot of regular days in between, and to take care of those also, but then enjoy the holidays. I have watched my wedding video many times, and each time that message has a different meaning. We have enjoyed the regular days, and our holidays are so special. We never thanked that wise old man for his remarks, but will now. Thanks, Dad. Mark was a holiday to me, and one that I don’t want to give up, but must .

Mark was my little brother growing up. Our childhood days were spent on Lathers, making our way home from kindergarten through the semirural areas of Garden City (long gone). We were in Cub and Boy Scouts together and had the same friends during those years (Terry & Larry come most readily to mind). He was always much more relaxed than the rest of us, and suffered a bit for marching to a different drummer. We rode our bikes to and from St. Raphael (2 miles from Lathers). I remember the bike crash Dad mentioned in his notes. We were riding home from school when a car pulled out of an alley between buildings and nailed him. Luckily he wasn't hurt, just surprised, and we continued home. I think it scared me more watching it happen, I don't remember him being too upset. It happened near where the mini golf is now on Ford Road. No helmets in those days.

When we went to UofD High he definitely saw the light, and it wasn't there. He needed a more social life and less of the academics. I always thought he had a pretty nice life in high school, much different than the one I had of books and athletics and those long hours of homework.

He had a series of interesting cars: an '51 Buick, the Dodge Dart Convertible, a big Thunderbird, and a neat red sports car, an Alfa Romeo (I think) that I remember riding around with him on a sunny day in the S.F. Bay area. I remember one day borrowing the Buick to go to my summer job at the Dearborn Engine Plant and forgetting that the starter was on the floor. When I got off work I had to call him and he came out with one of the brothers to correct the problem. He got mad that time. He ended up with that Bonneville which never seemed to quit and was the perfect urban assault vehicle.

I remember visiting him at his apartment in D.C. a year or so after he moved away. I was at U-M and it was the "March on Washington" during the Vietnam War. I spent the 1st night in an apartment with about two dozen people sleeping on the floor. Quite a scene. It was a relief to get out of there and spent the rest of the weekend at Marks high rise and luxo digs. It had quite a nice view, especially at night with the city lights, and a sofa.

When Mark started working in the travel industry we knew he had found his calling. He loved the travel and bossing people around. His artistic sense was very fine, and he was great at decorating, especially for Christmas. That job he had in New York was pretty neat, and we all loved to hear the stories about the celebrities homes that he decorated every year.

For the past 6 or 7 years Mark was making an annual trip to our home. I sent him a ticket and he usually came in the spring or fall. He would come for a week or so and spend some time with Pam Salvatore in Seattle as well. He was a real help with the gardening which he enjoyed and he spent a lot of time sitting on our porches enjoying the outdoors and the views. The kids would require him to play games of Candyland and Monopoly Junior and anything else they could get him to play. They got to see their Uncle Mark more than any other uncle for which I am grateful now.

We are all missing Mark now but he lives on in our hearts and memories as one wonderful human being who knew how to be with people, and make them laugh.