Memories of Uncle Mark
I also remember on another occasion, stealing Bazooka gum from a dresser in a bedroom where Ellen and Mark slept. The massive quantities of Bazooka on that bureau were too tempting to resist. The problem with Bazooka is the fact that after about 5 chews, it loses its flavor. So even though I *promised* myself each piece was the last one, every few minutes I would go back for another, and another. I don't know if Mark noticed the large amount that was missing from his stash – if he did he never said anything.
There are many other snapshots of Mark I have in my head from growing up, mostly located at that great house in Schaghticoke. There are many visions of a grumpy-ass Mark getting up to speed with the first cigarette and coffee of the day, country music on the radio. There is the Polo Brindisi – that was Mark's favorite wine, I think in the late 1980s, and one time my parents made a special trip to the liquor store to get several bottles, because he couldn't find it in the Albany area any more. Mark was definitely in touch with his "inner child" although you might not have known it to look at him. In addition to the Bazooka gum he had various and asundered toys at his house – the one I remember in particular was the battery-operated Pac Man game.
Growing up, many things about Mark's life before he was with Ellen were alluded to – a troubled childhood, service in Vietnam as an EMT/Paramedic, crazy brothers, estranged children; but we knew Mark as he was at that moment. We knew him as the guy that worked on his house and trained Shutzhunden. The guy that grew increasingly fascinated with computers and technology as it began to catch on in the 1990s and 2000's. The guy that worked hard – plugging away at a variety of jobs over the years. Most of all, he was the guy that loved my Aunt and stayed with her for the long haul. I will never be quite sure if it was Ellen that brought stability to Mark's life, or vice-versa. Maybe a little of both?
There are a few memories as I got older…. One was when I went to a fencing competition in Poughkeepsie and my friend Kevin and I spent the night at Ellen and Mark's house in Colonie. Their friend Butch and his wife were over, and we had a great talk and it was the first time I had hung out with my Aunt and Uncle without my parents being there. Mark, with his trucking history, gave us terrific directions to Poughkeepsie – I can't remember which side of the river that city is on, but he knew whether it was taking the Taconic or the Northway that required you to drive over a bridge to get there.
Mark and Ellen "rescued" me from many lonely times in my late 20's and early 30's, especially when I was alone in Springfield Mass. Mark never had a problem with me crashing at their place for holidays like Independence Day and Thanksgiving. Mark always had stories, sometimes complaints, but he was always welcoming and always willing to take me in. Of course, how could I forget the coffee – ohh, the coffee. Probably the one thing Mark and I had most in common as adults was an abiding love of the delicious and satisfying roasted bean brew. For both of us, it was a beverage of choice throughout the day – not just for breakfast!
I am sure neither Ellen nor Mark had no idea how important those times spent with them as an adult were to me; nor do they know how much I have missed them since they moved to Arizona. It saddens me that if I am ever able to visit – Uncle Mark will not be a part of my trip. My heart is breaking that I am unable to be in Tuscon at this time of celebrating Mark's life and grieving his passing. Ellen, I wish you courage and strength in the coming months, and may your heart dwell on the happiest memories of your beloved husband, and my "totally badass" uncle.