Birthday Blog-Mark 35

December 19 will forever be Mark’s birthday for me (and his mom). It’s a day that will always be sad now that he’s gone. It once foreshadowed Christmas for his parents. He was the best Christmas gift two young parents could have received far from their families, in Indiana, during that bitterly cold month in 1983.

I posted last year on December 19 and thought I would again this year. This one from when Mark was 31 may be my favorite birthday post. I recall a saying that Mary’s late mom used to share: “Remember the happy times.” I’m holding on to those, today.

Mark was a vegan superhero. (protesting in front of Textron’s headquarters, Providence, RI, in 2016)

December and January have become bookends to a dark period for Mary and me. It’s that “season of anniversaries” that I mention to people I know and who knew Mark. That “sad season” actually commences just prior to Thanksgiving and then, it runs through the anniversary of his death on January 21. I’m not sure that February will ever be a joyous month, either. That is how passing through the landscape of grief, loss, and mourning goes.

Mary’s family has been great. Thanksgiving this year was okay. Spending time in Maine’s western mountains helped. Then, the first weekend in December, we returned to the place where we’ve spent a weekend in early December for years (we couldn’t do it, last year) taking part in the Tarazewich Christmas gathering. I believe this tradition dates back to 2007. Along a lake in tiny village named Woodstock is a “camp” filled with countless memories of Mark. That’s where we first met (and fell in love with) his girlfriend at the time, Gabi. That was the year she’d graduated from Wheaton (Mark was a 2006 graduate). We actually met her for the first time when she stepped out of the car in front of Mary’s sister and brother-in-law’s house. I’m sure it was a bit overwhelming, but she handled it with aplomb.

Memories of Mark are fraught with triggers. I never know what might unleash another torrent of sadness and grief raining down on my head and heart.

An Easter to remember. (Providence, RI, 2009)

We raised our son to be tough and independent in spirit and he cultivated a uniquely optimistic outlook about life and even adversity. I know he didn’t get that from me: probably from Mary.

He took childhood lessons to heart and revamped the curriculum with his own values, mixed with love and compassion, filtered through a poet’s sensibility, with the zaniness of a performance artist. I miss learning new things because of him. He taught me that you’re never too old of a dog to learn new tricks. With Mark, he was always learning. He loved sharing whatever was new with those circulating in his orbit, dispensed with his characteristic gentleness and yes, that wacky humor that at times would make his grumpy dad even grumpier. I’d gladly have him come up behind me and pat me on the head tomorrow, and I wouldn’t complain at all.

Mary and I launched the Mark Baumer Sustainability Fund to honor our wonderful son, the love of our lives. It’s now a 501(c)3 foundation that will live on to honor Mark, and help cultivate traits that were part of his philosophy of life—especially love, kindness, and taking a direct and personal responsibility in building a more gentle and humane world—one that honors and respects all people.

If you knew Mark and want to honor him on his birthday, then think about making a contribution to the Mark Baumer Sustainability Fund.

These are the things we’re about:

A mission-driven nonprofit.

Birthday blog-34

[Note: I spent much of the weekend thinking and writing about the bond Mark and I shared around writing. We certainly bonded around sports and simply from spending time together when he was in his formative stage. But that doesn’t always guarantee a closeness later in life.

The driver who hit and killed Mark robbed his parents of many things. She robbed me of my only son, and a relationship I’ll never replace. She also took the brightest of personalities, one with passion (and compassion) from a world sorely in need of people like him.

As difficult as 2017 has been, one of the things that keep us going is knowing that Mark had a passion for Earth, other people (and bringing them together), and of course, writing. We founded the Mark Baumer Sustainability Fund earlier this year. We’re happy to announce that we are now a 501(c)3 nonprofit. We also have a brand new website that just went live. Check it out. Also, today would be a great day to remember Mark by making a contribution to the fund. It’s now tax-deductible and a great end-of-year gift to give for a cause that will support causes and organizations that cultivate traits that were part of Mark’s philosophy of life—love, kindness, and working towards building a better and more equitable world for all people.-jb]

 

Birthday Blog, Thirty-four (34)

 

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Developing any craft requires diligence, attention to it, and maybe more than anything else—a dogged determination in cultivating it—regardless of how many people flock to your doorstep. I think this an apt application for both writing and music, too.

I’m not a musician, but I’ve had a passion for various kinds of rock-rooted musicology dating back nearly 50 years. I know a thing or two about it, and what I don’t know experientially, I’ve gleaned from a longstanding tradition of reading what once was known as “rock journalism.” While no longer as prevalent as it once was given the demise of print, there are still outlets where this genre of writing resides.

Since we’re on the topic of writing, I think I can weigh-in on this with definite ink stains on my hands, or perhaps better, a worn keyboard on my laptop. It was 2001—I had read Stephen King’s On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. Afterwards, I decided not to be some occasional dabbler. I set a goal—I wanted to get published. Following King’s prescription, I got up early before work and wrote something every day. After a year of doing this, I got an essay published in Casco Bay Weekly just like King said would happen. I’d really become a writer. Continue reading

Turning 31

Mark is 31-years-old today. It’s sounds clichéd to say it, but it feels like only “yesterday” that I was driving Mary to the hospital like countless other nervous fathers-to-be before. We were living in Indiana at the time, 1,500 miles from family and familiar surroundings. To a then 21-year-old dad-in-waiting, this was terrifying. It was also one of my high-water life experiences

Young Jim and Mark

Mark at 18 months (I think).

I enjoyed being his dad. I still do. Continue reading

Time Marches On

One year ago, to the weekend, I was feted as the “author in residence” at Kennebec Fruit Company in Lisbon Falls. Members of Moxie Nation know it simply as “The Moxie Store.” That book signing for Moxie: Maine In A Bottle, took place on May 5, 2012; it doesn’t seem like it was one year ago, but it was.

Yesterday, my sister and I pulled off a surprise 80th birthday party for our father, Herman the German. The location was another Lisbon Falls landmark, The Slovak Social Club, on Avery Street.

My sister and I with our parents, Helen and Herman.

My sister and I with our parents, Helen and Herman.

There’s a saying that “time waits for no man,” and it doesn’t play gender favorites, either. The seconds, minutes, and hours of life continue ticking away and then, the clock ticks no more. Continue reading

Health Matters

There’s this debate about whether or not health care is a fundamental right for Americans. The divide, like with most issues, seems to come down to ideology.

I was reminded again this weekend that this issue has been debated for the entirety of my lifetime, and another 30 years prior to my birth. It’s affected me personally and our family, especially relative to the birth of our son and now, seeing him transition into adulthood. Continue reading