Happy Easter - I win! (or maybe Mark wins)

I can't tell you the number of times I woke up in the middle of the night last night and thought about this. Mark and I had a contest for every holiday, celebration and event. The first one to say "happy..." won. So it got to the point that we would sometimes set our alarm for midnight to go off just so at 12:01 am, I could shake him awake and say "Happy Easter Mark!... I win" and he would say "Happy Easter Hunno." So... Happy Easter everyone. I am happy that Jesus sacrificed for us so we could be in the presence of the Heavenly Father... Mark is celebrating Easter the best way possible this year!! I miss you Mark Searle (and, by the way, I won again this year too because I said Happy Easter at 12:00 am on the dot!!) xoxo

move over Arnold Palmer

Mini golfing, I was surprised to find out, wasn’t just a game.  It was a skill that only few possess and those few are nuts!  Mark was excited when the weather warmed up to take me mini-golfing.  He evidently thought that everyone had the same level of anticipation as he did and was shocked when I said I had never been there.  We went somewhere in North Syracuse on a beautiful, sunny day.  Mark hopped out of the car and came around and opened the door for me.  Then he walked over to the trunk and pulled out two golf clubs in fabric sleeves.  He also put on golfing gloves!  Once again, I found myself tipping my head to the side with a look of awe and confusion over this guy.  He was really odd.  When I found out that they actually let you use THEIR golf clubs but Mark had is own, that was even more interesting.  So, we picked up our golf balls and our scorecards and away we went to play.  Mark offered to go first so he could show me the proper technique.  He set the ball down on the little rubber square with the “tees” and began a process that would carry through the entire game.  He knelt down, put his golf club out in front of him on the ground and aimed it toward the hole.  The trajectory, evidently, needed to be just right before you could swing.  Then he stood up, bent his knees like a pro, and did a “mock” swing several times.  He proceeded to put the club up close to the ball, then away, up close, then away, up close, then away.  And finally, he swung, ever so slightly.  The ball made a beeline toward the hole and missed by a couple feet.  He repeated the process again as many times as it took to get the ball to score.  Then he turned to look at me.  His face had the look of serious accomplishment.  Mine had the look of “you are certifiably insane.”  I found out that Mark was an avid golfer.  He would use any excuse throughout our married life to go.  His golf game started in mid-March and ran sometimes until December if he could find a course that was open.  We had many a “discussion” about the time he spent on the golf course over the years but without much success on my part.  I often said that if we were to divorce, it would be because of his other mistress, golf!  I remember just before Mark had his surgery in September of 2000, he was going to be home for approximately 4 weeks recovering without being able to do much activity.  The day before his surgery, I planned for the children, Mark and I to go to Buttermilk falls and have a picnic.  He chose instead to spend the day golfing, the entire day!   I was so upset with him that he took this “free” day and spent it golfing that I know I didn’t talk to him for hours after he came home.  It turned out that it was the last time Mark ever golfed again.  He spent that beautiful day doing the one thing that he loved and I looked back on my attitude many, many times over the years and thanked God that He gave Mark that day of fun with his friends.  We still have his golf clubs in the attic.  They are probably too old and heavy for anyone to use now, but they are good for getting the dog’s ball out from under the couch every once in awhile.  As his putter leans up against the closet door in his room, it reminds me of this man who never did anything without intention of finishing it well. 

You snooze, you lose!

Pizza was Mark’s major food group.  He said he could eat pizza every day for the rest of his life and he would never get tired of it.  I thought he was joking.  He wasn’t!  When he died, his phone had 65 names in the directory, 20 of them were pizza places.  One particular night, before we were engaged, we went to a movie and then to Pizza Hut at around 10:00 pm.  We had our pizza and our visit and then we went out to his car and sat before he took me home.  We laughed and laughed.  It was freezing in his non-heated car so I was under the blanket and he was in his usual short sleeve shirt without a jacket sitting next to me.  For those of you that know me, I love sleeping.  From what Emilie and Mark always tell me, it is some sort of gift to cover myself with a blanket and within seconds be sound asleep.  I guess that’s what happened in this case.  I leaned on Mark, he put his arm around me and I fell asleep.  He didn’t want to wake me up to drive me home so he sat there, and sat there, and sat there.  I slept.  Eventually, I guess, he fell asleep too.  I woke up at some point, and realized where I was.  My neck was kinked funny.  I sat up, looked at my watch and saw it said 3:40 AM!!!!  I screamed, woke Mark up and said “It’s 3:45 AM!  My parents are gonna kill me!”  (This was the age before cell phones).  So Mark quickly drove me home.  We got out of the car and started walking toward the carport.  I was scared!  We almost made it to the porch when all of a sudden the light in the carport came on.  Mark let go of my hand and turned around and RAN!!  Yes, he ran to his car faster than I had ever seen him move, not looking back once or even shouting “goodnight!”  By the time my mother opened the door, Mark was driving away at warp-speed.  My mom said, “I thought I would hurry you up a little.”  When I got in the door, I heard the onslaught of rage and worry from my poor mother (all while thinking that Mark was going to hear every last second of this when I saw him again…if I saw him again!!!)  I did, at one point, have to contain my laughter when my mother said, “it only takes 20 minutes to make a baby, you know.”  And I thought, “wow, that’s not what I heard.”  But I decided not to say that out loud.  The next day, my father told me about how his sons would never bring a girl home that late and he was not going to allow Mark to come over or date me anymore.  I apologized profusely and kept thinking about Mark getting out of all this reprimand.  I tried to explain that we just fell asleep but they didn’t seem to believe me.  A few months earlier, I was standing in the same spot trying to convince myself to go out with him on a third date, and now I was falling in love with him, begging my parents for another chance.  Anyway, it was settled that if we continued to see each other, we would have an 11:00 pm curfew.  I was 19 and Mark was 19 and he hadn’t had a curfew in his life so this was an interesting lesson for both of us.  I remember whenever we chose movies to watch, the starting and ending time was how we chose from that point on.  Mark grumbled and complained about it, but we were careful not to mess up again.  I’m not sure if I ever saw Mark run again after that, at least not with any speed.  Our future would have many more nights of him holding me while I slept, but we would just have to wait a little while longer for that.    

Mr Goodwrench

After I graduated from Powelson Business Institute in downtown Syracuse, I walked over to Niagara Mohawk put in an application for a job.  It was the first and only place I applied.  I had graduated with a 3.97 GPA in their Secretarial program and I was pretty good at typing and shorthand.  (My GPA was 4.0 before I met Mark and my mother insisted that he ruined me because my GPA went down after we met!)  I didn’t really think NiMo would hire me because the rest of the entire world wanted to work there and I knew they had many, many applications.  I dropped off my application, walked to the bus stop and took the 30-minute ride home.  When I walked in the door, my mother said, “a lady from Niagara Mohawk called and wants you to call her back.”  So, I had the job within minutes of applying.  The pay was astronomical compared to other places.  This was an incredible opportunity and I think this is when Mark and I started to talk about our future together.  Mark worked at Bresee Chevrolet as a parts runner before we were married.  He drove a pickup truck with a giant hat on it.  Must be he had a thing for hats!  The truck said “Mr. Goodwrench” on door.   His hat and his shirt said “Mr. Goodwrench” on it.  I found out later, however, Mark didn’t have one single “good wrench” skill.  He couldn’t fix anything, ever.  Once he tried to fix a leak under the sink in our house and he spent about $150 on supplies (wrenches, plumbing tape, gloves, etc.) and then proceeded to split the pipe all the way down under the sink and the floorboards.  I remember as he pulled the trap off the pipe under the sink, he saw the gunk in the trap, ran into the bathroom and got sick.  It cost us another $500 to repair the damage from the water leak under the flooring!  My dad, on the other hand, fixed virtually everything, including my Timex watch, taking it all apart, mixing a bunch of different household oils, and putting all the gears back together.  There wasn’t anything that my father considered a challenge.  And then there was Mark.  Oh my.  I mistakenly thought all men could fix things because my brothers were just like my dad.  Anyway, Mark had other good qualities, right??  He would come in his truck and pick me up and take me to lunch every time he was in the neighborhood for parts delivery.  We usually went to Arby’s or McDonalds because they were the closest to where I work.  He would play his Pink Floyd or Asia or Jethro Tull music and we would sit in the car and eat our lunch and then he would drive me back. I am trying to remember if Mark had any goals other than working at Bresee Chevrolet for the rest of his life, but I don’t think he did.  He seemed happy there and loved driving around all day.  His one arm was very dark and tanned from hanging it out of the truck.  He really seemed like everything was going fabulously.  I thought so too.  My mom and dad weren’t as thrilled about it.  Tomorrow I will tell you about a pizza hut dinner that almost kicked Mark out of our family for good!!

A boy, a girl, and a love unspoken...

Warning… this was a tough one to write…Today is one month since Mark left. One month of missing him so much that I can’t understand how a person can be so sad and still be able to function. I took a break from telling you about our past to tell you about the day Mark left. It was a Thursday, February 28, 2013. On Wednesday evening, the 27th, I left the hospital after speaking to the doctor. He told us that Mark had pancreatitis, not an infection, as they suspected. He was actually quite happy about that and said, “we can fix this, it will take time, but we can fix it.” So we went home. I called in the middle of the night and asked the nurse how Mark was doing and she said his temp had been coming down a little and his blood pressure was stable. I told her that I would wait and come in the morning instead of my usual 4:00 am time. 
When I arrived at 7:00 am, I opened the double doors to the ICU and immediately I felt a wave of darkness come at me. It was cold and dark and heavy. I looked down the hallway toward Mark’s room and saw a crowd of people assembled around his room. I could feel my heart sink and thought “this is what death must feel like.” When I got to Mark’s room, I realized that the people were standing around the room next to ours. The nurse told me that they were saying goodbye to that patient. She suggested I go in Mark’s room and close the door so we could all have privacy. Once I walked into Mark’s room, it was the oddest thing. The heaviness lifted and the darkness was gone. I held onto Mark and prayed and asked God to come into this place and shine His light. I spoke out loud that darkness cannot exist in the light and I asked God to come and bless this place. The staff was crying, the people in the hallways were crying. I was attempting to rejoice and praise. Around noon, we were told that the man passed away. One of the staff members came in and said that the man who died led an unhealthy and unholy life. I told her that I had been praying for this complete stranger and that his eyes would be open to see the Lord.” 
12:30 the doctor came in and told us that Mark’s kidneys were failing and I needed to give them permission to do dialysis. I said “no.” He had suffered long enough and complications from the infection were going to be massive for him. I was all alone. The doctors had told our children to go back home a few days earlier because Mark was going to be there for a long time. I asked if they could wait to unhook him from the respirator until the children arrived. I stayed with Mark and cried and cried and cried. I told him how much I loved him and would miss him every single day for the rest of forever. The children arrived around 4:00 pm and after we had a chance to visit with Mark, the doctor told us that they would need some time to unhook things. We waited in the waiting room. I wonder how many people have stood in that ICU waiting room to hear that same news. I was thinking that I wished the Pastors from our church weren’t out of the office earlier when I called. Just as we were standing there, at that minute, Pastor Mike came around the corner. The doctor came and said, “ok, you can come now.” We started walking toward the double doors and I thought “here we go, I am leading my children toward these doors so they can watch their dad pass away. How in the world am I going to do this?” I remembered earlier that day when the darkness was thick in the hallway. The doors opened. We started walking and oddly enough, there was only peace. The sadness was there, but it wasn’t dark, it was peaceful and light. We entered Mark’s room and he looked adorable in his hospital gown and all the tubing was removed and he looked so cute. He was resting so comfortably. He even snored a little bit and the kids and I laughed. Pastor Mike said that was the typical look he had from Mark during the church services and we all laughed. They told us it would be 3 to 12 hours before Mark took his last breath and it was only about 20 minutes. He quietly went to be with Jesus. I realized that God gave me a glimpse earlier that morning into the darkness of those who pass away without knowing God and the lightness of those that do. So, as I am typing this note, I hope that my faithful readers out there who have not made a choice to follow Jesus, will believe me when I tell you this week of Holy Week is the best time to give your sin and shame over to God. When we die, you cannot go before God with sin because God cannot be in the presence of anything but perfection. Jesus died on the cross and took our sins so that we can be made whole and approach the throne. There is eternity of light waiting for you…just ask. Please continue to pray for our family.

Hat-fishing

The weather was nice, so we went for a walk.  My parents live on the South Side of Syracuse where there are houses close together and sidewalks and a nice place to stroll for a long time.  We decided to take a hike to Webster’s Pond.  It was maybe about a mile and a half from their house.  It was a beautiful day.  Mark, as usual, wore his cowboy hat and his polyester shorts and t-shirt.  We walked and laughed and headed toward the duck pond.  Sometimes if you get there at just the right time of day, there is dried corn to feed to the ducks, but we missed that part, so we just wandered around and sat together on the bench by the water.  All of a sudden, a gust of wind came up out of nowhere and Mark’s hat flew off his head.  He tried desperately to grab it, but he didn’t move fast enough.  The hat swirled around high over our heads for a few seconds and then went out to sea!  Ha ha ha!  It landed in the middle of the duck pond about 20 or 30 feet away from us and began to sink.  I thought I was going to split from laughter.  Mark, on the other hand, looked like someone he loved was about to drown.  He ran around like a loon and finally broke a giant branch off a tree to use for a grabber.  The strength that he had in his arms to break off that giant tree limb surprised me, but I think the adrenaline was working overtime.  He stood at the edge of the water in the duck droppings and fished and fished and fished for that hat.  I sat on the bench and could barely contain myself from the laughter.  Finally, after at least 10 minutes, he was able to retrieve the felted, cream-colored hat, now covered with muck and duck poo.  I said, “I’m sorry your hat is ruined” and then unsuccessfully held back a chuckle.  Mark responded, “it’s not ruined, I can still wear it.”  So, he gently held the hat out at arm’s length while it dripped smelly brown liquid off it, and we walked back to my parent’s house.  Every once in awhile he would say “stop laughing” but he would smile at me and pull me closer.  When we arrived back home, Mark wiped off what he could with a paper towel and said he would take the hat home to clean it the rest of the way.  Much to our dismay (well, maybe Mark’s dismay), the hat didn’t live through the ordeal.  It cleaned up ok, but lost its ability to stand upright and made Mark look more like Charlie Chaplin than whatever image he was trying to portray.  He bought a different hat right away, same color, same style, but he didn’t wear it as often.  He said it didn’t fit as well.  We still have the original hat.  Our kids actually wore it a few times for costumes through the years.  Yesterday I picked it up off Mark’s shelf in his room and the years of dust had settled on it, but some of the wear and tear from Mark’s head was still visible.  It’s funny how I love that hat now…or is it the memory of the man who wore it.  I miss you unbearably Mark Searle and every single oddball thing you ever did!  

Homer enters the stage!

Dinner with his dad wouldn’t happen until after we were married.  His father (Homer) lived with Mark’s grandfather (also named Homer) in Florida when we first met.  (I am VERY glad they didn’t carry on the naming tradition!!)  At that time, Mark’s father was recovering from open-heart surgery and separated from his wife. Once when outside by the baseball field near my parent’s house, Mark and I were holding hands, strolling along, and just chatting about stuff.  I often think that when Mark became paralyzed that our times walking together was what I missed most of all.  The memories of him holding my hand and my constant teasing about his feet pointing out and my toes pointing in, left a pattern on the walkway and my heart.  I approached the subject of his father and asked if he was worried about losing him because he was so sick.  I was 19 years old and my dad was such an integral part in my life that I didn’t think I could breathe without him.  So, I wondered.  Was he devastated that his dad was having heart surgery in a hospital in a different state?  He stopped walking, looked at me and said “I have only known you for a couple months and at this point, if your dad died, I would be more devastated than if my own father died.”  If I could put into these typed words how I felt when I heard that, I would.  The shock, sadness, disbelief and overwhelming sorrow for this fabulous guy, was too much to put into words.  I don’t even remember what I said, except “Why?”  Mark told me that his dad had a problem with drinking too much.  He told of one episode growing up and what happened afterwards.  I won’t share it here, but I know the rest of our walk was silent.  Once again, I began to see what I had in my life as a gift.  Who knew that this family of mine, with the constant noise, one bathroom, one car, and one pound of pasta to feed a gaggle of people would be an astounding gift. After convincing Mark to invite his dad to our wedding, the rest of their time together was really fun for Mark.  His mom and dad got back together.  The guys went camping in the Adirondacks, joined a pitch card league, and talked endlessly about hunting and shotguns and boy stuff.  It was a fabulous time of healing and hope for all of them.  Mark’s dad passed away before any of our children were born at age 52.  I have a story or two about Homer Searle that I will be sharing eventually, but just like Mark, I learned to love his dad.  Today we ponder…what is the hidden blessing?  It’s something so mundane and so ‘normal’ and probably annoying, that you don’t even think about it day after day, but it’s the true blessing.  The next story just may be about the demise of a certain cowboy hat!  Stay tuned…

That's alota meatballs!

When his mom, called me to come into the kitchen for dinner, I noticed she had a severe rash on her face and arms. Later I found out from Mark that she had psoriasis. It was extremely painful for her and she had struggled with it since Mark was young. She was semi-pleasant as she served the spaghetti into a large blue mixing bowl with flowers on it. She filled it to the top and then began to ladle meatballs onto that with dippers and dippers full of sauce. The dinner smelled divine. I was really hungry. As she spooned the food into the bowl, she spoke something that I never, ever in my life heard spoken to another human being. She said “nine meatballs enough for you Mark?” HUH!??!! I thought I must have mis-heard her. No, I didn’t!! She said “nine meatballs enough for you?” and she counted them out, one at a time until there were nine on top of the giant bowl of spaghetti and sauce. She placed the bowl in front of Mark. “I only made 3 pounds of pasta today so I hope that’s enough.” she commented. I looked across the table and there were 3 of us; Mark, his mom and me! Whoa! I had all I could do to convince her that a meatball and a cup of spaghetti was enough for me. Then, without hesitating one smidge, she walked over to the counter and handed EACH person their own stick of butter and a loaf of Italian bread; three people, three loaves of bread!! I’m not making this stuff up. Who could! I watched while Mark and his mom broke off pieces of bread and then dipped their pieces one by one into a vat of sauce big enough to feed my family for a month! I honestly love sauce and bread so I was intrigued and mortified at the same time.

Dinner was a bit awkward. I had already made up my mind that I didn’t really like her or the house. After dinner, she went into the living room and sat down while Mark picked up the plates and did the dishes. She immediately went back to the shouting and yelling that occurred when we first came in the house. I couldn’t believe how many things she shouted at Mark to do and he just did them. It was almost comical. (I never did figure out the magic shout to get Mark to do housework.) Mark’s mom, to be honest, through our years of engagement and marriage, rubbed me the wrong way. She seemed to be able to say exactly the right words so that Mark had no choice but to go over there and do what she wanted. Years into our life together, God opened my eyes to something I was doing and it affected Mark’s relationship with his mother permanently. You see, Mark kinda-sorta liked his mom when I met him. Over the years, I found little things to criticize and I made sure he saw her flaws and her mistakes. Slowly but surely I “helped” Mark “see” his mom the way she “really was” and eventually, he only tolerated her because he had to. When she died 23 years ago, she was only 54 and Mark has barely mentioned her since. I have asked him multiple times to forgive me for turning his heart away from his mother. I realize that my husband became the man that he was because of the woman she was. Through the hard work that it took for Mark to be her son, he learned the value of a relationship and he would not have been as fabulous a husband and father, if not for her. To be fair, she was a wonderful grandmother to her grandchildren and always treated me well despite my ‘stand-offish’ manner toward her. By “pointing out” the faults of someone else, be careful that you aren’t just honing your own flaws in the process.

Foggy dinner date

He picked me up from work a little bit earlier than usual on the day we were going to meet his mom.  I would just like to mention that a few months into dating Mark, I didn’t have to take the bus home anymore.  Because I still didn’t drive, the bus was my only way of transporting.  My mom didn’t drive and my dad didn’t expect to drive us anywhere, so if we needed to go someplace, it was by bus or we walked!  So this pick-me-up for lunch and pick-me-up-to take-me-home thing was a very nice perk!  Ok, so back to the subject at hand.  I wore a blue teal dress.  I remember because it was my favorite dress I owned and I knew I looked very nice in it.  Mark jumped out of the car and came around and opened the door for me. I could tell he was excited about this and so was I.  (Later, I realize that maybe I was mistaking his excitement vibe for nervous).  We arrived at his mom’s house and it was a very tiny ranch.  The garage door was broken and the front steps were crumbling.  The paint was peeling off the siding.  It had a mixture of faux brick on the front of the house and shake-shingle siding.  There were carcasses of used lawn mowers and snowmobiles on the side of the house.  Mark opened the front door of the house for me and I stepped in first.  The house was foggy which I thought was from the steam of her cooking in the kitchen.  Mark stepped in behind me and protectively wrapped his arms around my waist.  We stood in the doorway and I could see through the tiny living room an even tinier kitchen.  Mark’s mom was in the kitchen and she looked up and swore!  She said “You weren’t supposed to be here until 4:30 and it’s barely 4:00.”  I could feel myself cower back towards Mark’s chest and he hugged me a bit tighter.  He said “Sorry, we got out of work early. Come and meet Sue.”  And she came out of the kitchen, smiled and said “very nice to meet you” and shook my hand.  I was told not to sit where there were towels on the couch because the cat had issues!  (We didn’t have animals in our house, ever, so cats with issues back then scared me, now we are the crazy animal people so it scares me even more, now, ha ha ha).   She immediately put Mark to work cutting up the bread and setting the table.  I walked around and looked at photos.  There were pictures of Mark and Gary on the wall as babies.  The photos were streaked with yellow and as the water boiled for the pasta, the yellow streaks were forming on the walls in the living room too.  The fog wasn’t from the kitchen; it was from the ashtray of burning cigarettes.  Mark didn’t seem to notice.  He continued to work while his mom shouted and seemed to be annoyed.  Mark didn’t notice that either.  He worked with her and laughed and chuckled as if her tone was playful and loving. I noticed the couch and the chairs were tattered and torn.  There was a coating of thick dust on the tables and knick-knacks.  The carpet was threadbare.  The home seemed to lack love.   How could this guy who is so attentive, protective and crazy-in-love with me develop this skill from a totally different environment than I had?  I was puzzled.  His family wasn’t loaded with money as I had imagined they were; it was exactly the opposite.  I watched the two of them work together in the kitchen with the linoleum half-gone; the countertops were sticky and dirty and stacked a foot high with cartons of cigarettes and Coke or Pepsi.  (We never drank soda either so this was a sight for sure).   It was scary and fascinating at the same time.  Mark didn’t seem phased one bit about his mom being aggravated.  It was almost as though he was comfortable with it.  Fascinating??  Stay tuned for tomorrow’s episode of “what’s for dinner!”  

meet the parents

They say opposites attract and in our case, it was true!  To mention Mark having a different upbringing than me is an understatement.  He had one brother and no cousins or aunts and uncles that lived locally.  His mom was an only child and his dad had one sister in Chicago (I think).  Not only that, but Mark lived out in the suburbs/country with very few neighbors and I am sure he didn’t know any of them.  Mark was used to being the center of attention and other than his brother, he was the “only” grandchild.  My family, on the other-hand was lively and big.  I was the middle child of 7 children.  My dad often joked that I was “number 4” because he couldn’t remember my name.  My mom and dad also had a very large family.  My father was one of 11 and my mom was one of 4.  The street we grew up on is still the same one my parents live on today.  It was loaded with kids and games of kickball, kick the can, and hide and seek, skating and basketball.  There was always something to do and someone to do it with.  My mom cooked and sewed and even made matching outfits one year when we sang together at Christmas events for the extended family.  We had a garden and walked to the store.  Every week my dad played pinochle with his siblings while we waited at my grandmother’s house for him to win!  Once a year the family travelled to Pennsylvania to visit Uncle Rocky and Aunt Mary and their 6 children.  It was a hoot.  Mark was amazed at the noise and the confusion and the loudness of my family.  We expected everyone to just walk in the door and be part of the insanity.  Mark took it all in stride and surprisingly blended in immediately.  It wasn’t as easy for me to acclimate to his family.  When the day came to meet Mark’s mother, I was expecting the same sort of environment.  I knew it wouldn’t be loud and crazy, but I visualized June Cleaver in her apron coming over to greet me with a glass of cold lemonade, cookies and a hug.  His parents were separated so I would be meeting them on different days.  I was very excited because we had been dating for a couple months and I knew this was a big step to meet the “mom.” I will tell you about that tomorrow, but let’s just say it was the first time I ever heard a woman swear.  I began to realize that my home life and the love and laughter and smoke-free environment I had was a gift.  His mom and dad loved him just the same as my parents love me, it was just a different way of doing it. And if I was going to be part of this man’s life, I had better learn to see things from an unusual perspective.  

The phone and the scheduler

Growing up, we had one phone that was attached to the wall in the kitchen.  The cord had been stretched long enough so that if you pulled it, you could sit on the top of the cellar stairs and close the door and talk.  Not too many people could hear your conversation; except maybe my mom who seemed to live in the basement doing laundry all hours of the day and night. Most of my siblings were close to my age so we were always arguing about who was going to use the one bathroom and who was going to use the one telephone. Mark, being the analytical-thinking guy under that cowboy hat, came up with a schedule for us.  Promptly, and I mean PROMPTLY, at 7:00 pm, he would call me every night.  We would have anywhere from 15-20 minutes allotted for our talking time and then someone else could use the phone.  Night after night, the phone would ring at 7:00 pm.  My brothers and sisters were already having a field day making fun of this guy.  They laughed about his car, his loud music, his clothes and that HAT (oh how I wished Mark would get rid of that hat!)  Underneath it all, everyone loved Mark and he always took the teasing in stride and never let it budge his behaviors (darn!!).  One day, my brother Bob had an idea to put a cereal bowl out on the counter with a piece of paper and a pen next to it.  He asked everyone who was interested to bet when Mark would call and throw a nickel in the bowl with their time; closest without going over, would win.  Seriously??  My family, including my parents, believe it or not, thought this was so funny and a fabulous idea.  People were writing down 6:59 pm, 7:00 pm, 7:01 pm, 7:02, 6:58, etc.  Nobody put 7:10 because they KNEW that Mark would never wait that long.  This went on for a few days before they got tired of it.  Mark was so predictable, that every night the 6:59 or the 7:00 or 7:01 person won!!  I thought it was adorable, until, of course, I realized that he is always prompt and I am always not-prompt, and he would sit in the car over the years with it running 30 or 40 minutes early while I still had to take my shower and get dressed yet!  Ha ha ha…  It was this scenario of waiting for me in the car that made that man smarter and smarter because he had lots of extra time to read.  So all of you people out there who have benefitted from Mark’s genius, you can thank me for being a procrastinator!  I miss him so much.  

I'm not cut out for this!

A few months after I met Mark, I was working part time at University hospital in the EEG department transcribing notes about their patients.  I was still attending Powelson Business Institute (which is now Bryant and Stratton) in Syracuse.  My course of study was their secretarial program, but I was mostly interested in Medical Terminology and Transcription.   I remember that I had worked only about two weeks in that department when a little baby came in for the EEG test (that measures the electrical activity of the brain).  He was probably no more than 8 months old. He was an adorable bald baby.  My eye was drawn to his misshapen head.  From the side to the back of his head there was a bulge that protruded out about an inch and was as big as an orange.  I noticed that the mom was calm as the baby fussed and screamed while the electrodes were placed on his head.  I was in the office where there was a window to see what was happening in the procedure room.  I was typing and listening to the cassette with notes from a different patient, but my heart was breaking for this fussy baby who was obviously very ill.  The overwhelming heaviness of the situation hit me hard.  I stood up and told my boss that I was going on break for a few minutes.  I walked to the elevator and pushed the button for the lobby.  I got off the elevator and walked toward the pay phone booth.  I dug for my dime in my pocket and first called my mom and told her about my day.  Then I dialed Mark’s number.  I completely lost it.  I cried and cried and cried.  I told him that I wasn’t cut out for the medical field and I have made a very big mistake thinking that I could do this job.  He said “I will be right there.”  Within 15 minutes, he was pulling up in front of the hospital.  He came around his car and wrapped his big arms around me and held me while I cried and cried.  He said “it’s alright hunno.”  He waited while I walked up to the office, told my boss that I was quitting immediately and I left.  I knew that my future would not ever again include anything medical because I just wasn’t supposed to be that distraught ever again.  Can you just hear God’s conversation with his entourage of angels as I proclaimed my future life without dealing with sickness ever again.  God knew that it was exactly what I was meant to do and the man that was nurturing me through this struggle was the exact man that God placed in my life to nurture and walk alongside over decade-long trial.  As we stood outside of a hospital holding each other,  we had no idea that the same scene would be repeated years later in many hospital rooms and procedure rooms, growing in commitment and love to each other and the Lord.

What color is that anyway?

One day Mark and I were out for a walk. I couldn’t get past the royal blue polyester shorts with the white socks and “tennis shoes” as he called them. He was wearing some crazy color shirt with reds and greens in it. I mentioned something like “wow, you sure do have a variety of colors going on today.” And he looked at me with a look that told me I crushed his very soul. I said “what’s the matter?” Deliberately and slowly he explained to me that he was color-blind. He proceeded to tell me that colors were dull and everything looked almost gray. Reds and purples were especially hard to distinguish. I was so sorry that I said something to hurt his feelings, and apologized profusely. But secretly, I was jumping for joy and relieved that his styling issues had a medical excuse! Whew!! I could now explain to people why he dressed that way and of course they would understand and have sympathy. Maybe, I thought, I could come up with some sort of “garanimals” matching system for adults and help him match clothes appropriately. I was sure we could fix this. I went home and promptly, just like every other time I heard something fascinating, told my mom and my dad and my siblings about it. I asked them to stop picking on my boyfriend because he dressed differently and explained the tragedy of him being color-blind. They were ashamed, as well they should be! About a week later, Mark was in the living room at my parents house and my mom asked him a question about being color-blind and wondered if Mark could see the colors on the trees in fall. Mark started to open his mouth to speak and then stopped. He started again and then stopped. He looked over at me and just burst out laughing. He said “how many people did you tell that to?” And I said “a lot, why?” And he said “because I’m not color-blind. I just wanted to come up with a quick excuse for my style.” I couldn’t believe it. I was completely shocked. My first thought was “so you mean to tell me you purposely dress like that and can actually tell what color you are wearing?” But I decided against saying that out loud. Instead, I said “well, I’m glad you aren’t color blind, but I sure do wonder why not.” He thought that was pretty funny. I wonder how many times we look at the colors that God gives us in the miracles of creation around us and become color-blind ourselves. How many times do we miss a color because we are preoccupied?

Gullible technology

 Mark had a variety of cars at his disposal.  I mistakenly thought his family was rich.  They had a camp in the Adirondacks (that’s a story for another day); they grew up with a camp on the St. Lawrence River and they owned a house in Cicero.  The house in Cicero, Mark told me, stored their 4-wheelers and snowmobiles (one for every member of their family).  Our family had a small 3-bedroom house with one bathroom that slept 9 people.  We had one car, a blue Chevy Impala that everyone shared. So when Mark told me he had two Dodge Challengers, a neon green one and a black one, I was impressed that I found a guy with money!  Both of those cars had metallic wide two-inch stripes going down the sides of the car, installed, of course, by Mark himself because he was evidently pretty crafty.  (ha ha ha)  Early on, during one of our first few dates, he drove his brother Gary’s Opal GT.  It was a tiny silver car with two seats.  I don’t even remember where we went or what we did that day, but I do remember it was raining.  It was one of those fine mist rains that involve turning on the wipers often.  (This was WAYYY before intermittent wiper blades were invented!)  As we were driving along, I noticed the windshield wipers every once in a while would just go across the window with no rhyme or reason, and no movement from Mark to turn them on.  I said “hey, how do those wipers do that?”  And Mark said, “there is a sensor on the windshield that can tell when there is rain on it.  When enough moisture touches the window, the wipers will go across.”  “WOW!!  That’s pretty fancy,” I exclaimed.  I talked and talked about how cool that was and couldn’t wait to tell my dad who knows everything!  How adorable was Mark for chuckling and laughing at my amazement of this technology.  It made me just like him more and more that he thought I was so cute and animated.  Scratch that.  Can you say “gullible?” I found out many months later that the wipers were operated by a foot button down on the floor!  All along Mark was the one operating the wipers.  He had discovered that his girlfriend would believe anything he said and, oh my goodness, that just opened up an entire chapter to the book… entitled “Don’t believe everything Mark Searle tells you.”    Just before Mark passed away, he came down the hallway and said “remember the Opal GT story with the sensor windshield?  (then proceeded to repeat exactly what happened again with a laugh right from his toes).  Well, they actually make that now.  I wish I patented that!”  Maybe some day I will own a car that reminds me of Mark every time it rains.  (On a side note, for years, I think of Mark every time I get caught in the rain.  Instead of complaining about the soaking wet feeling that happens when your jeans get pelted with water, I cherish the gift of nerves and muscles that work and can feel those things.  I love that my feet hit the ground as I run for cover as I thank God for these things that we somehow take for granted each day. )  

Wiper blades that twitch??

 Mark had a variety of cars at his disposal.  I mistakenly thought his family was rich.  They had a camp in the Adirondacks (that’s a story for another day); they grew up with a camp on the St. Lawrence River and they owned a house in Cicero.  The house in Cicero, Mark told me, stored their 4-wheelers and snowmobiles (one for every member of their family).  Our family had a small 3-bedroom house with one bathroom that slept 9 people.  We had one car, a blue Chevy Impala that everyone shared. So when Mark told me he had two Dodge Challengers, a neon green one and a black one, I was impressed that I found a guy with money!  Both of those cars had metallic wide two-inch stripes going down the sides of the car, installed, of course, by Mark himself because he was evidently pretty crafty.  (ha ha ha)  Early on, during one of our first few dates, he drove his brother Gary’s Opal GT.  It was a tiny silver car with two seats.  I don’t even remember where we went or what we did that day, but I do remember it was raining.  It was one of those fine mist rains that involve turning on the wipers often.  (This was WAYYY before intermittent wiper blades were invented!)  As we were driving along, I noticed the windshield wipers every once in a while would just go across the window with no rhyme or reason, and no movement from Mark to turn them on.  I said “hey, how do those wipers do that?”  And Mark said, “there is a sensor on the windshield that can tell when there is rain on it.  When enough moisture touches the window, the wipers will go across.”  “WOW!!  That’s pretty fancy,” I exclaimed.  I talked and talked about how cool that was and couldn’t wait to tell my dad who knows everything!  How adorable was Mark for chuckling and laughing at my amazement of this technology.  It made me just like him more and more that he thought I was so cute and animated.  Scratch that.  Can you say “gullible?” I found out many months later that the wipers were operated by a foot button down on the floor!  All along Mark was the one operating the wipers.  He had discovered that his girlfriend would believe anything he said and, oh my goodness, that just opened up an entire chapter to the book… entitled “Don’t believe everything Mark Searle tells you.”    Just before Mark passed away, he came down the hallway and said “remember the Opal GT story with the sensor windshield?  (then proceeded to repeat exactly what happened again with a laugh right from his toes).  Well, they actually make that now.  I wish I patented that!”  Maybe some day I will own a car that reminds me of Mark every time it rains.  (On a side note, for years, I think of Mark every time I get caught in the rain.  Instead of complaining about the soaking wet feeling that happens when your jeans get pelted with water, I cherish the gift of nerves and muscles that work and can feel those things.  I love that my feet hit the ground as I run for cover as I thank God for these things that we somehow take for granted each day. )  

We're engaged - not really, but sort of!

After he handed me the ring and took me home, I was a bit dazed.  I walked into the house.  My parents were in Arizona at the time visiting my Uncle Rocky and Aunt Mary and my favorite cousins EVER! (Debbie Fisher).  My sister Donna was "in charge."  It was late, maybe around 11:00 pm and Donna was in bed.  I went to her room, knocked on the door and went in.  The room was pitch black dark and I said "Donna, wake up...he gave me his school ring!"  She sat up, grabbed my hand and said "YOU'RE ENGAGED?, wait until I tell mom and dad."  And tell my parents she did.  The next day when they called to check in, Donna ran to the phone and said "Suzanne got engaged last night."  I was shouting from the background trying to explain but it was already too late.  I could hear my mother screaming into the phone (and not in a good, I'm-so-excited-for-her way!).  I finally had my chance to talk and I think the shock wore off of her by the time she came home three days later!  Mark was on top of the world.  If you could see a 250 pound man with duck-feet skip, he would have.  He was just all smiles.  It was flattering to be so admired and googled over (that word, googled, was not a search engine back then, but probably, Mark gave them the idea for the name because he literally did not take his eyes off of me when I was in a room... he was flat-out, over the top, googlie-eyed for me!)  The next time we went out, I joked when I told him that Donna said we were "engaged" and he said "If there was anyone in the world that I would marry at this moment, it would be you."  He reached out and took my hand and just squeezed it two times.  I squeezed his hand twice in return.  He smiled and that became our "signature hand hold."  Every walk, every movie, every ride in the car, every time he was in the doctor's office or hospital having a test, we would hold hands like that.  As his last days approached and he was in the hospital, I held his hand.  Day after day I squeezed it twice and waited for him to respond, but he slept.  I realized that he was comfortable for the first time in over 12 years.  He was not in pain anymore.  He was zonked out comfortable.  I realized that the day was here that the memories, the love, and the promise from God was what I would hold onto.  I realized that nobody could walk this heart-wrenching journey alone.  Jesus held onto me, my husband and the kids and will continue to embrace us every step of this transition.  Mark is running to His arms right now and I don't even think he has duck feet anymore!    I have lots more stories so I hope I didn't make you too sad...(I'm sad enough for all of us combined)... but for Mark, this is a happy ending. The rest of us who know Jesus are just waiting patiently to see him again.

The blind date that opened my eyes...

December 19, 1976, I met Mark Searle on a blind date.  We went to a dinner dance with Bob and Brenda Bingham-Tracy .  Mark came to the door to get me and he didn't look the way I would have imagined.  I didn't visualize myself dating someone of Mark's size and especially his fashion sense!!!!  He talked to my mom while I finished getting dressed.  He told her about his cat Tuffy eating the bulbs on the Christmas tree.  I wore a yellow dress with a high collar and a cameo pin on the neckline.  It was the same dress I wore to the prom but my mom and I shortened it.  About two months ago, Mark was having a graft done on a heel ulcer on his foot.  He was afraid.  I was holding his hand during the procedure and I said "hey Mark, try to think of something else, like what was I wearing the first time you met me."  He was wincing in pain and fear, but became quiet for a few minutes.  And then he said "it was a yellow dress with a jewelry pin, and you looked beautiful."  The doctor said "WOW! how long ago was this?" And Mark said "it was in 1976, December and I will never forget that."  ...  The doctor, who was very young said "i have no idea what my wife wore the first time I met her, so I hope nobody ever asks me that question." ...  Mark Searle, I love that you never forgot anything... especially me! 

Back to the first date in 1976. Mark walks me out to the car and Bob and Brenda Bingham-Tracy were in the front seat. Now remember, this is a blind date and I have never seen or heard of Mark before this day. Mark and I are in the back seat. We make small talk. I ask Brenda if she picked up the tickets to the dance at school (it was prepay only) and she said something like "I thought you said you got the tickets yourself." Well, I didn't. I remember we were told specifically there would be no ticket sales at the door. So, I frantically discussed this scenario with everyone in the car on the way to the dance. I couldn't figure out what I was supposed to do with this guy I was with if Bob and Brenda got to go to the dance and I was stuck with this guy alone that I didn't know. We get into the restaurant and a couple of girls from school are sitting at a table collecting tickets. I walked up and blurted out this entire scenario about how I thought my friend got the tickets but there was a miscommunication and she didn't get the tickets and would they possibly have mercy on me and my date and let us in the door. As they were discussing this possibility, the man that was "my date" that evening, pulls two tickets out of his jacket pocket and bursts out laughing. I guess Bob, Brenda and Mark Searle were all in on this joke and it was at that moment that I decided I wasn't ever going to go out with him again. :-)

The first date: The sequel: After I sufficiently embarrassed myself enough standing in line and fretting over tickets that we didn't have, but actually Mark had in his possession all along, we proceeded to find a table. I remember thinking that Mark wasn't really all that funny even though he kept chucking over his little prank. We were served dinner and everyone got the same thing. Steak and potatoes and vegetable. Mark starts poking his fork at the steak and tells me that he isn't into eating animals that are still alive and somehow makes my meal seem quite unappetizing too. (I ate it anyway. I lived in a house with 9 people and steak wasn't something we ate, ever!!). So he says he doesn't dance. Brenda and Bob were dancing and Mark and I just sat there. It was weird and I was still upset over the ticket thing. Anyway, after the dinner "dance," Brenda and I had plans to spend the night at her house. The guys walked us to the door and Brenda's mom meets us there to see how our evening was. We all stood in the doorway and laughed and talked and then Mark does it... he says IN FRONT OF EVERYONE... "I had a wonderful time tonight and I would like to take you out again next weekend." AUGH!!!! Now how am I going to get out of this?? So I said ... yes... but I didn't want to!! He made plans to take me out the following Friday...

The second date;  He told me we were going to dinner and a movie.  I can't remember what I wore but I know I dressed casual because we were just going to the movies.  Mark came down the street in his own vehicle this time (the first date was in Bob's car).  That day he drove a black Dodge Challenger.  When he turned the corner onto my parent's street, you could hear him coming.  The music was blasting so loud that we could hear him 100 yards away.  He pulled up and got out of the car with a cowboy hat and still wearing the jewelry around his neck.  He had jeans and a tshirt of some sort.  He walked with his feet turned out like a duck.  (He told me he had a football injury to a tendon and when it healed, it forced his feet to turn out...so that made it less weird I guess).   The car leaked gasoline so bad that while it sat there in the driveway there was a puddle under the car.   When I got in his car, I was unimpressed to see the entire dashboard covered with a black and red shag carpet.  He proudly told me that he did that himself!  Really??  No kidding!!  Then he showed me how the glove compartment was just a tiny seam in the carpet and it was completely disguised.  He was quite proud of that fact.  He played music really loud in the car all the way to the Pizza Hut which is where we went for dinner.  And then played more music on the way to the movies to see Clint Eastwood in The Enforcer.  It wasn't exactly "chick flick" material, but the movie was actually quite intriguing and the pizza was good.  I thought he was odd.  He kept trying to put his arm around me during the movie but I leaned quite far in the opposite direction and tried to give him the clue that this wasn't really working out.  (He was oblivious).  When he walked me to the door after our 2nd date, I had practiced in my head how I was going to let him down easy.  He said "next weekend is my birthday.  Would you like to go out with me to celebrate it?"  ..... YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME... I thought.  So I said "sure, that sounds nice." ...   will the third date be the charm??  

January 5, 1977 – Mark picked me up in his noisy, shaggy, leaky vehicle and we went out to dinner.  I dressed up and so did he.  He wore another leisure suit (who knew someone would buy more than one of those things).  He somehow thought that opening the button of his shirt past his chest was attractive and he had the Justin Beiber hairstyle, only there weren’t a lot of girls swooning over that, for sure.  We went to a restaurant called “The Vineyard” and it was the first time I had ever been to an “all you can eat buffet.”  Remember, I was raised in a family with 9 people and one pound of pasta fed all of us with just a meatball and a small salad.  This place was massive.  I still, to this day, wonder if Mark noticed my mouth gaping open during the entire meal.  We visited and we chatted and he laughed a lot.  I was starting to notice that the guy spent a lot of time laughing.  He listened while I talked randomly about my plant that I named Gregory and my family.  I talked.  He listened.  I talked some more.  He listened some more.  So after dinner, it was freezing cold in his car because it had something wrong with the heater (nothing wrong with the radio), but the heater was broken!  He had a blanket in the car that he handed me and we drove around his section of town.  We drove by where he lived and where he went to high school.  He pulled into a dead end street and there was a circle at the end of it that he stopped the car and put it in park.  I thought “Oh Fabulous, I’m gonna need to use karate.”  (which I had no idea how to use, by the way.)  He looked over at me and said “when I met you that first night, I couldn’t believe that someone like me would be able to date someone like you.  I told my friends that I expected a “3” or a “4” and I got a “10.”  I love spending time with you and I would love it if you would wear my class ring.” 

I wish I could describe my thought process at this moment.  I was thinking something like “this can’t be happening; how can I tell him no way; and awww this is kinda sweet” all at the same time.  I reached out and placed it in the palm of my hand.  It WAS the palm of my hand; it was huge!!  My ring size was a 5 and his was an 11 or something like that.  I looked at him and said “I can’t take this ring, I don’t even know your last name.”

Well, if any of you have ever seen the video of Mark laughing, that was what he did.  He threw his head back in the car and started laughing from his toes all the way up to the top of his head.  He laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.  I had no idea what was so funny because I was serious.  When he stopped laughing he said “this is why I love you already, because you are so funny.”  Then he said “it’s Searle S.E.A.R.L.E, Searle” all while he was still chuckling.   So I took the ring, because I didn’t know what else to do and put it on my finger.  He said “thank you so much, you have no idea how happy I am.”  I thought, “you have no idea how confused I am.”  And he drove me home.  Who knew that the ring on my finger was going to connect us for the next 36 years…