It has been a week full of anxiety. The first was the entire sales organization got an e-mail for a conference call in two hours with the top leadership. I do not recall ever having a conference call with the top leadership and when it is sudden you know there is going to be a significant change.
As is often the case they gave us a high level overview but did not discuss the details. Everyone knows the devil is in the details and those conference calls would be done on a local level; ours was scheduled for the next morning. Therefore, we were all left wondering what was in store throughout the day.
In short, my boss was moved to another role and I’ll be reporting to my old boss again which is just fine! Reorganizations of entire departments are stressful for everyone because you never know if you’ll have to dust off the resume. Luckily for me this change, even though it is huge, is not a big deal for my role in the company. I’m glad that is over.
The second thing that has made this week quite stressful is that I learned through Facebook that the daughter of one of my high school classmates was life flighted to the hospital with brain swelling and bleeding. My classmate has asked for prayers and is giving updates on Facebook. I think as far as uses of Facebook go this is probably one of the best. Her entire family is going through something nobody has to go through and they need support. Facebook has the power to reach the maximum amount of friends and thus a broad array of both prayer and support.
Unfortunately at this stage it seems things are not going well and this has put me in such a low and sad place for her, her family and daughter. Losing a child in my opinion is worse than losing anyone else and is something nobody should ever have to go through. So they’ve been on my mind since early yesterday and for one who does not believe in ‘prayer’ per se I’m praying for that little one and to see a recovery at this stage would make me reconsider my current beliefs.
Macy did not make it. This has to be one of the saddest things I’ve ever experienced and it is very hard to stop thinking about. Life is so precious, so fragile and at times slips away so easily. Unfortunately it takes moments like this to wake us up from our stupor and realize how great of a gift life is. To see the updates on Facebook was absolutely heart wrenching and many people like myself who had never even met Macy were absolutely devastated when we learned she wouldn’t pull through. Hell, I was out with my friends having drinks and I actually cried thinking about this! I don’t remember the last time I cried and I’ve seen plenty of death.
Anyway, it was asked that everyone light a candle for Macy and post it with the hashtag #candlesformacy. So that is exactly what I did: I went to the trail right next to Rockaway Beach where there is an outcropping with a meditation labyrinth and one often sees memorials. I wanted my candle to be there and to look out over the ocean and pray in my own way for Macy and her family.
It is 6:31 AM. I just opened the door and for the first time in a while heard the Robin’s singing their morning songs and memories of my job at Raymond Memorial and Wilson Road Golf Courses – where I did maintenance – came flooding back to me.
This happens every time I heard them in the early morning. I had to awake an the ungodly hour of 4:00 AM and before I had my driver’s license would walk in the dark to the maintenance barn on the golf course. I’ll always remember the robins because they were so loud at that time and I wondered how they could be so cheerful at such an hour.
The weather in the summer in Columbus, Ohio is usually hot and muggy. At 4:00 AM the weather is not yet hot, but not cool either and the humidity not unbearable. I would put on my maintenance t-shirt, shorts and heavy work boots then proceed on my twenty minute journey along the sidewalk of the neighborhood, cut through a yard then over a seemingly infinite amount of golf course to get to work. Everyone in Golfview woods would be sleeping and it seemed I was the only one in the world who was awake. I’d pass the houses of my friends and imagine them sleeping wishing I could trade places with them. The grass of the golf course was wet with dew and on occasion a few drops would spring up and hit my bare legs as my work boots disturbed the light covering it had made.
When I first joined I was given the worst jobs and the worst thing to do at that hour was to be sent out to weed eat around every single tree on the entire course. The beautiful music from the robins abruptly ended and the cool, morning smell polluted by exhaust from the diabolical machine in my hands. It was not pleasant.
The following summer I was afforded the privilege of cutting the greens which meant I could ride on a machine. Being a young guy I had no concern for my hearing and would turn up the music so loud that it would mask the engine noise. I’d pull up to a green, and with a loud thud the cutter and buckets would drop while the familiar whir of the blades cut a beautiful path through the green covered with dew which created a brilliant green stripe, eventually covering the entire green. The final step was to do a circle around and I remember once I briefly fell asleep and cut a good part of the fringe off, awakening when the cutters made an awful sound since I had driven them into a length of grass they were not intended to cut.
Another job that was required first thing in the morning was to cut new holes in the green as the many feet had trampled the area of the previous day’s hole. For this job you’d take the hole cutter, a bucket of sand and get on a run down maintenance cart. Arriving at the green you’d take the hole cutter, the bucket, cut a new hole and use it to replace the previous day’s hole, using the sand to balance out the height if the depths didn’t match. The idea occurred to me one morning to make things a little challenging for the golfers and so I placed the holes on the most challenging sloped of the green. Perhaps this was out of spite, seeing as most golfers were rude to the maintenance staff – especially when they didn’t yell “fore” if their ball landed close to us.
One time we were sent to paint the water tank green on the 10th hole and were constantly in the line of fire from golfer’s drives off the 10th tee. Almost nobody yelled “fore.” Now, we had a new recruit -John – who was a pretty large gentleman who played football at a smaller Ohio college. My colleague Jerry, a middle aged guy with a light complexion and red hair and beard pulled up to us, and while we weren’t looking took a golf ball from his cart and threw it as hard as he could at the water tank. Not hearing “fore” John was extremely startled and started yelling at the golfers on the 10th tee. Jerry found this extremely funny and laughed for a good 5 minutes.
Speaking of the 10th tee, the maintenance barn was right next to it and pulling out on our machines we would have to look up at the tee and wait for the golfers to tee off. Well, one time Willie, a very gruff, yet gentle soul of about 40 years old who looked like he just stepped out of Soul Train with his jheri curled locks was waiting for golfers to tee off when one of them hit an incredibly bad shot. The ball struck the unfortunate Willie squarely in the teeth. I didn’t see this happen but saw Willie with Aaron – the big boss – upstairs in his “office” filling out medical forms from the state. Willie was tough but it was easy to see he was in incredible amounts of pain.
One of the reasons I was often extremely tired in the morning was that I would return home about 2:30 PM only to be awakened by my friends – who were unemployed – arriving at 4:00 PM to wake me up and take me out. These excursions were often to the dollar movie theater where we’d stay out until about 1:00 AM. Seeing as I had to awake at 4:00 AM I became pretty sleep deprived after a week or so of this routine. One morning, when I was watering the greens I actually heard voices in the silent morning. They sounded like faint mumbles coming from the ruffling of the grass – fantom whisperings speaking directly to me. This sleep deprivation is one of the reasons I fell asleep on the green cutter in the incident I mentioned above and also caused me to arrive – once I had my license and car – mistakenly at 2:00 AM. In a daze, I had awoken, got dressed and drove to the course only to find the gates to the maintenance area still closed and locked. I looked down at my clock and saw the time which amazed me. I slept for the next two hours in my car.
I get an acute sense of the passage of time when I think back on these memories and those I worked with, quite a few of whom have passed away.
Frank – Frank was about 65 years old when he worked there. He walked with a slight, determined bounce and his favorite saying was “Do what?” with an emphasis on the what. I never liked country music but he did and when he sang Chattanooga Choo Choo I decided at that moment that the song wasn’t half bad. Frank was usually found on the tractors cutting fairways or rough. I was sad to hear that Frank had passed away many years ago and I believe he never would have taken retirement. He loved that golf course too much.
Willie – As I mentioned above Willie stepped directly out of soul train and always had jheri curls which would absolutely be dripping with Soul Glow over which he wore a red jazz cap from Wendy’s. Willie was one of the kindest guys I’ve ever met and drove a hallucinogenic kidnapper van with one small, round, black window. His van had some sort of painting on it which I cannot remember. He always called me “Matty-Matt” as his son’s name was Matt as well and I enjoyed working with him the best. It is a rare opportunity for a young white kid who attends a blue collar Catholic school to get life advice from a middle aged black guy who didn’t attend college. His advice and stories were of the kind I’d never heard before and left me fascinated and always asking more questions. Nobody has any idea where Willie is these days and he has disappeared existing now only as a very fond memory of my youth. I loved Willie for his gentle nature and hope he is happy, singing his 70s disco music somewhere beautiful.
Darryl – Was a middle aged black guy who you’d probably run from if you saw him in a dark alley at night. There was no soul glow in sight on Darryl and he had a hearty and boisterous laugh that would make anybody smile. Darryl wasn’t much of a talker but would open up if you engaged him or asked him direct questions. I remember trying to sound tough telling him about some of our shenanigans to which he replied “Aw, stay away from all of that shit.” Coming from a tough guy like Darryl, his advice hit home and I realized that shenanigans are best avoided, even for tough guys. Darryl also has passed away from what I believe were diabetes. Once it is my turn to cross the threshold I hope to sit with Darryl for some more advice.
Dan – Dan was a young twenty something and a complete hippie. He actually drove a VW bus, listened only to The Grateful Dead but was a hell of a golfer. This was proven when he could easily hit a green with a five wood and did so on many occasion. It was rumored that he had actually beaten Tiger Woods before Tiger hit the tour out in California. Unfortunately for Dan he turned to drugs and The Dead and spent all his free time following them around the country. At work, news reached us one day that Jerry Garcia had died and Dan was in shambles not recovering for weeks. He walked around in a gloom, no more laugh that resembled air trying to escape from his body. Dan eventually quit and I can only assume he is singing a tune on his beat up guitar to honor Jerry in that field of flowers where all hippies visit at least once in their life.
Brad – Brad was the son of Bill – a senior maintenance man. I say “was” because I was extremely saddened to learn that Brad has also passed away. I learned this last year on a trip back home while playing Wilson Road Golf Course in the early morning. I saw Bill and he did not recognize me. I mentioned Brad’s name to which the old man’s eyes quickly became moist and he said, “You knew Brad?” It was then I learned he passed away and I was too afraid to ask further questions as I didn’t want to hurt the old man. Sometimes I wonder if I made a mistake and I should have asked more questions, to let him know that his son is not forgotten, had great friends and is remembered fondly. But I could not. Brad’s death shocks me the most because he was my age and I kept in touch with him until 2004 even finding this e-mail in this very blog where I keep record of my life. Whenever I’m walking along the fairway in the cool of the early morning and almost alone except for the maintenance people I speak directly to Brad wondering if in some way he is not present at that moment somewhere among the whispering of the cat tails of the lake which sway in a cool, gentle breeze. I admonish him for being reckless with his life and although I do not know how he died assume it was doing something he shouldn’t have been. It is not with anger, but instead with sadness, and with a heavy sign try to expel the weight I feel for a buddy, someone my age dying so young. “Brad, you idiot, what did you go and do?” This is followed by memories of him flying up and down the slopes of the mounds on the John Deer grass cutter taming overgrowth like a boss. In that early morning I try to sense his presence even if it is only an overlay of memories I try to transpose over the quiet morning course.
As much as I enjoy catching up with old friends when I’m home, I enjoy playing Wilson Road – a short, beginner, nine hole course alone. There aren’t many who would get up before sunrise anyway, I must always see the sunrise when I play. It is a very spiritual experience where I can vividly remember my high school days, and the memories are so strong that I can feel as I felt back in high school which is exhilarating. (I’ll write another post on the adventures of Golfview Woods, the neighborhood next to the golf course one of these days.) The intensity of these feelings no longer exist in the 38 year old version of me. But in that quiet morning, alone on the golf course I remember old crushes which forever occupied my mind and how excited I’d get at the prospect of even being near one. I remember how grand it was to be playing golf with friends on this very course and how optimistic, happy and excited we were about the future. When young, the future is a wide open opportunity that we cannot stop rushing towards. Everything is possible as soon we’ll be released from the confines of a life structured by adults. Simple things, like receiving a new Sega game hold more joy then than winning millions of dollars would be in your 30s. Speaking to a crush, or even the prospect of seeing one soon, created a euphoria that has become heavily sedated over years of life experiences.
The sunrise on Wilson Road Golf course on a cool morning is timeless; it connects all past, present and future and draws those souls who have played the course to its brilliant glow.
Should those who read this post decades or even centuries from now wish to speak to me when I’m long gone, come to the course and as the sun rises over the trees on that first hole, tell me what you have to say. I’ll be riding the gentle breeze that creates slight ripples over the ponds, my voice will be among the ruffle of dead oak leaves as you try to find your ball. I’ll be there, listening to the songs of the robins; and if you listen closely, I’ll whisper your name.
We were allowed to play these courses for free on weekdays since we worked there. The problem was that we were usually too tired from the day’s work to play so it didn’t happen very often.
One day, I remember we did decide to play but I have forgotten who I was with. There was an older man who worked in the pro-shop of Raymond Memorial around 1997-1998 and he was the person working that day.
Well, he refused to help us, he told us we couldn’t play and was very cruel with his words. The reason is because he looked down on the maintenance people and and thought that we shouldn’t have the right to play the course for free.
I’ve never forgotten how mean he was and if I’m not mistaken this actually made me cry a little. I told my boss that I was going to tell Jack – who was the boss of all the public courses in the city of Columbus. Aaron saw how upset I was and told Kelly the Pro who ran the course. The next morning while I was out cutting the practice green Kelly came out and apologized to me and even gave me a hug. This did make me cry.
I still remember this event very clearly which was almost 20 years ago. What Maya Angelou says is true!
“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
That old man made me feel as though I wasn’t good enough to even be standing in ‘his proshop’. He made me feel that by being a maintenance person I was somehow lesser. I’ve never forgotten that feeling.
But I am thankful for this event as it has been part of the many experiences which have shaped how I treat others. The work one does is irrelevant next to the fact that they are a person, a human being who is experiencing this reality, this brief existence just as I am. How insignificant what we do is compared to the life experience and mystery itself!
The lesson here is to be kind to everyone. One day life in Earth will end and the work we have collectively done as human beings most likely won’t matter one bit in this infinite universe. But I have a suspicion that the feelings, emotions and thoughts we create will remain and continue, as a ripple on the pond with no edge.
As the years go by I become more and more aware that time appears to be moving much more quickly and only gaining speed. I’m glad that I realized this early on and make the effort to write down my thoughts and post my pictures. By doing this I’m keeping a record of my journey through life which I hope will be preserved for eternity; it is something that those in the future can look back upon for entertainment or even to study what life was like for a person alive from 1977-?.
Looking around it seems people walk in a daze, completing one task after another and never focusing on the moment. Each day is a gift and should be savored and appreciated. But even if we are able to slow down and appreciate that which surrounds us, our memories are not very good and although we can remember some things we’ll forget much about our own lives; it is as though we’re reading a book but towards the end only remember the chapter title and a paragraph or two. I want to remember everything and be able to read my own story. I want to feel again long gone emotions such the excitement/fear of a first day of school, a first date, getting in trouble, graduating, or a new love.
At 38 years old many of my old acquaintances seem to have forgotten the friendships we once had a decade or two ago. They have turned into something different and this something different, these formal, reserved, adults appear to have a faulty memories. I’ve learned that friendships, just like most things in life, degrade without constant care and attention.
I’ve heard the saying that if you only have two or three good friends in life you’ve done very well. I never really believed this quote but now think I understand what it means. The destroyer of everything, time, also eats at friendships until there is nothing but an outline, a husk of what once was. Many of my old friends are now more foreign to me than acquaintances I’ve only met once after coming to San Francisco.
There are those however, just a couple of dots in the mosaic of a lifetime of friendships, that remain bright and that time is having difficulty wearing down. Those are my true friends and I’m very grateful to have met them. But even these true friends do not actively reach out very often. I find that the catch up letters, the phone calls and such no longer happen. With social media we are able to passively keep in touch with minimal effort. Unfortunately doing it this way is like a splash of water on the face when I was hoping to dive into the deep end, to really feel the chilly water completely and exhilaration it brings with such a rapid temperature change. But perhaps it is not the technology but simply that people get old, they forget and become very different people with each additional life experience.
I did not really set out to make this post about recording my own life. Instead I meant for it as a way to remember a few others. At 38 years, the number of old acquaintances passing away is starting to increase and is serving as a very stark reminder that life is just a blink, a very short transfer-station on an eternal train ride whose immensity and grandeur cannot be comprehended on this Podunk stop. For most of my life I had only one friend pass away. Then in my early thirties learned there were two others.
It was put out of my mind until the death of my childhood neighbor which I wrote about here. His death really hit me hard even though I hadn’t seen him in almost a decade. Then I return to Ohio this past May and learn of two more!
So, I’d just like to remember them here as a tribute, a way to send leave an eternal message on the internet, that they are not forgotten and even though we hadn’t spoken in almost two decades I enjoyed meeting them and hope they are well wherever they are.
1. Brad Stischok– I worked with Brad at my high school summer job doing maintenance for a golf course. Returning home I saw his Dad who still works there, said hi and inquired about Brad. It was then that I learned he had passed away in 2006 which left me speechless. I was so shocked and unsure of what to say next that even though I wanted to know more and let him know how much I enjoyed working with Brad I did not want to cause him any further distress or pain so just offered my condolences and left it at that.
So Brad, I cannot believe you are gone. I knew you briefly and frankly want to call you a BIG dufus for going and dying at such an early age. I don’t know how you passed and maybe never will but I still want to smack you on the head for going and doing that. People miss you; you were a great guy and I won’t forget the fun we had working together.
Obituary: STISCHOK William Bradley “Brad” Stischok, age 30, of Columbus, passed away unexpectedly Sunday, January 1, 2006. He was a Sales Representative for Hill Distributing, a 1999 graduate of The Ohio State University. Brad was an avid Buckeye fan and loved to golf. He was Vice President of Colony Hill III Recreation Association and a member of Xenos Christian Fellowship Church. Preceded in death by his daughter Kiersten Lynn, grandparents George Manicho and Matt and Bertha Stischok, uncle Ray Stischok. Survived by his wife, Chrissy; children, Jacob and Makayla; parents, Bill and Marilyn Stischok; sister, Kim (Michael) Graham; grandmother, Midge Tiberi; mother- and father-in-law, Sandy and Chuck Tincher; sisters-in-law, Missy (Guy) Grinstead and Stephanie (Bob) Murgatroyd; life-long friend, Kenny Gardner; numerous aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, cousins and dear friends. Friends may visit on Wednesday, January 4, 2006 from 4-8 p.m. at the SPENCE-MILLER FUNERAL HOME, 2697 Columbus St., Grove City, where funeral will be held 10 a.m Thursday. Pastor John Cleary will be officiating. Interment Sunset Cemetery. In lieu of flowers, family request donations for Jacob and Makayla’s college education fund, c/o National City Bank.
2. Erik Falasca – Erik, I worked with you at the Grandview library in the audio/visual section when I was in college; I’m sure you’ll remember me if you think back and concentrate. We once had a discussion with Greg that there is no way one should prefer to watch a sports game than have sex. Greg told us that once a man turns 30 his priorities change. We’ll I’m now 38 and I think that opinion is just as insane if not more-so as I did when I was 18. Vita and Karen were are other two co-workers but they didn’t participate in that discussion I’m quite sure. It was during that time period when the library first got Windows 95 computers, we thought they were completely awesome.
I learned you had passed visiting Trinity school when I read the plaque on the new pavilion near the entrance which to my utter shock had your name. I wonder what it was that took you away at such a young age and regret that you are gone. You were always a great person, upbeat, happy, positive and just a pleasure to be around. If death were fair, he would do well to take the sour, nasty people first instead of people like you. It might be terrible to say that but so what, it’s true.
Falasca Erik A. “Stavros” Falasca, age 37, passed away on Saturday, September 14, 2013 at his residence with his family at his side. Erik graduated from Grandview Heights High School, The Ohio State University and Emporia State. A dedicated employee of E-Tech Ohio, he was a member of the Knights of Columbus and St. Christopher Parish. He is preceded in death by his grandparents Giovanna and Carmine Mosca and Rosa and Sabatino Falasca and his aunt Silvia Valerio. He is survived by his wife, Oana; daughter, Calina Maria; parents, Armando and Elva Falasca; sisters, Mia (Brian) Gentile and Tina (Tom) Kistner; nephews, Roman and Nathaniel; niece, Giovanna; aunts, Rita (Vincent) DiSante and Mirella Duffey; uncle, Mario (Clara) Mosca; many cousins and friends. Friends may call SUNDAY (today) September 15, 2013 from 5-8 p.m. at the JOHN QUINT TREBONI FUNERAL HOME, 1177 W. Fifth Avenue. Funeral Mass 10 a.m., MONDAY, September 16, 2013 at Our Lady of Victory Catholic Church, 1559 Roxbury Road, Columbus. In lieu of flowers, friends who wish may contribute in memory of Erik to Trinity School, 1440 Grandview Avenue, Columbus, OH 43212 or Catholic Charities Our Daily Bread, 725 The Fallsway, Baltimore, MD 21202. Condolences may be sent viawww.johnquint.com
Tonight it is with a very heavy heart that I write this post. I just received word from my hometown that my old neighbor, the young boy I knew while I was growing up, passed away much too soon.
It is moments like these that violently jolt us awake from the slumber brought on by daily monotonous routine.
Tomorrow the sun will still rise, people will still go to work, but the world will not be the same, and never will be again. There is one more whose light has been extinguished and now only exists in memory.
I wanted to write a post to serve as a memorial for Bobby Junior, known to me as simply Bobby J. This is for that little kid who would always be so happy when I found the time to play with him, for the kid who laughed hysterically when I taught him the word “butt-pirate.” It is for a kid who had a tough time in life and never seemed to find firm footing.
Bobby J, it has been almost 20 years since we last met and tonight I wish I would have reached out just once to say hello. I still have your name on AOL IM, that old messaging service that nobody uses anymore, and always wondered why your name continued to be there year after year. I tried to send you the picture below through AOL a few months ago but for some reason it didn’t work. I thought I had plenty of time to try again.
Tonight your mother and brother weigh heavily in my thoughts. This is going to be very hard on them. I know you had a pretty rough adult life and can only hope that you have now found peace.
I hope that when I too leave this world we can sit again on the chimney and I can teach you another silly insult like “butt-pirate,” that your parents will get slightly upset with me for doing. I’ll try to learn some new, equally entertaining insults to share with you before I get there.
I’m thinking of you tonight buddy. I feel a profound sadness that seeps into my very soul. With your death a piece of my own childhood has died as well.
PUBLICATION: Columbus Dispatch, The (OH)
DATE: May 3, 2007
EDITION: Home Final
RHODESMary Elizabeth Rhodes, 81, of Columbus, formerly of Bellaire, Ohio and Greeneville, Tennessee, died Monday, April 30, 2007, at Riverside Methodist Hospital. Born May 10, 1925, in Afton, Tennessee, the daughter of the late Daniel (Buck) and Grace Smith McCoy. She was a member of St. Christopher Roman Catholic Church in Columbus. Mary loved baseball and hockey, especially the Columbus Clippers and the Columbus Blue Jackets. She especially enjoyed being a teacher’s aide at Trinity Catholic Preschool at St. Margaret of Cortona Parish in Columbus, where she was affectionately known as Grandma Mary. She also enjoyed working in her garden. In addition to her parents, she was preceded in death by her husband, Paul W. Rhodes on June 27, 1989, two sons, John Paul Rhodes on April 25, 1985 and Stephen Michael Rhodes on December 23, 1950, one brother, Roy McCoy and four sisters, Hazel Roberts, Mabelle Kinnick, Arma Nell Southerland and Agnes Harmon. Surviving are four children, Patricia Ann (Bob) Miller of Wickliffe, Ohio, Charles L. (Michelle) Rhodes of Bellaire, Ohio, Lester C. (Pat) Rhodes of Bridgeport, Ohio and Sharon M. (Mike) Curtin of Columbus, Ohio; one sister, Pauline Solomon of Greeneville, Tennessee; three half sisters, Gay Mitchell and Reba Green, both of Knoxville, Tennessee, and Barbara Roe of Johnson City, Tennessee; three half-brothers, Glenn McCoy and Charles McCoy, both of Knoxville, Tennessee, and Walter McCoy of Telford, Tennessee. Also seven grandchildren, Vince, Tammy, Matt, Christy, Jesse, John and Margot and several great-grandchildren and a special niece and friend, Phyllis (Gary) Jones of Greeneville, Tennessee. Family and friends will be received at the BAUKNECHT-ALTMEYER FUNERAL HOMES & CREMATORY, 441 37th Street, Bellaire, Ohio, on Thursday, May 3, 2007, from 4 to 8 p.m. Funeral liturgy with Mass will be celebrated on Friday at 9:30 a.m. at St. John Catholic Church in Bellaire, Ohio, with Msgr. Gene W. Mullett, the Celebrant. Interment in the Holly Memorial Gardens at Pleasant Grove, Ohio. Vigil services will be held at the funeral home on Thursday at 4:15 p.m. Memorial contributions may be made to Trinity Catholic Elementary School Scholarship Fund, 1381 Ida Avenue, Columbus, Ohio 43212. Share your thoughts and memories with Mary‘s family at www.altmeyer.com.