Tag Archives: Mary Baumer

On Not Doing Sports

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“Doing sports” was always a big thing in the Baumer household. Mark had a WIFFLE® Ball Bat in his hands not long after he learned to walk. He’d later grow into an outstanding hockey and baseball player, doing the latter sport well enough to play in college, win accolades for his accomplishments, and have a hand in leading his college mates to a spot in the Division III College World Series in 2006.

On Mark’s final walk, we communicated less about sports than at any time in our relationship. I knew he still followed the NBA to some degree. While he’d never played basketball beyond elementary school in a structured fashion, he’d become enamored by “the Association,” even joining a Golden State Warriors fan board back in the mid-2000s during his undergraduate winters at Wheaton.


[Come on! Do Sports!!]

Mark brought me back to basketball. I’d played in high school for the woeful Lisbon High Greyhounds. As one of the team’s tallest players at 6’3”, I often found my nights on the hardwood matched up against the other teams biggest and usually best, offensive player. I couldn’t jump, wasn’t particularly fast, but I did have an aggression and a “mean streak” that lent itself well to pummeling opponents who possessed greater skills. Of course, this also meant I was usually in “foul trouble,” and regularly on the wrong side of the officials. I’ll simply add that my basketball career wasn’t as distinguished as my time on the baseball diamond. There, I could “throw that speedball by you, make you look like a fool boy” as Springsteen sang in “Glory Days.”

Once Mark moved back east from California and settled in Providence, we began an annual thing together: we’d pick a team we both wanted to see the “hometown” Celtics take on and we’d order tickets and plan a rendezvous in Beantown. I think we began this sometime around 2010 when Mark joined Brown’s Literary Arts program, in pursuit of his MFA in Creative Writing. Continue reading →

Songs From the Car Seat

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I have two laptops. One that is my “travel” computer. It’s one of Lenovo’s Yoga Ideabooks, perfect for use on-the-go. It’s the very same version that thieves in Providence snatched after smashing the two side windows of Mary’s RAV4, the night before Mark’s celebration of life at Brown. My insurance money allowed me to buy another one.

On that laptop is a very long attempt at writing a review of Thursday night. I completed it on Friday afternoon after trekking to the JFK Presidential Library and Museum, as Mary and I had decided to spend an extra day in the city before boarding the train north for home, on Saturday. While she caught a catnap before we headed out to a romantic dinner in the city’s North End, I was banging out a review that I guess will never see the light of day.

It was Valentine’s and Mary and I were in Boston to see Car Seat Headrest (CSHR). Actually, I was the one who wanted to see the “next big thing” in indie rock, but being such a good sport, she decided to take me up on my offer of a second ticket and hit the rock show with me, even though she could care less about the indie music I’ve loved for forever: that’s the kind of girl that she is and has always been. I’m sure that quality is also why Mark loved his mom like he did.

Today is Sunday, three days after Thursday. We thoroughly enjoyed our time in an urban environment very different from where we live in Maine.  Amtrak’s Downeaster made this trip especially enjoyable.

Back from Boston (from the Prudential Skywalk)

Our time in the big city was fun. I think the reason we had such a good time is because we left the car back in Brunswick. Being able to experience a city without the hassle of driving in city-style traffic lessens the stress. That and not having to find parking is a plus, too. Of course, it helps to be in an urban environment that has a stellar public transportation system. I know the locals love to bash the MBTA, but for someone like us who live in a small town with minimal public transportation options, being able to embark on public rail to crisscross the landscape of a major American city was a plus, and kind of fun, too. Continue reading →

Birthday Blog-Mark 35

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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.

Writing Newsletters

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Thanksgiving’s gift of an extended respite was a welcome one. No tutoring, insurance, and only one chance to sub at a nearby high school.

I read, tag-teamed in the kitchen with my better half on some amazing plant-based meals rooted in simplicity: I had my evenings free, which has been rare since September. Thursday, we drove into Maine’s snowy western mountain region for time with Mary’s family.

Western Mountain splendor.

Grief is “a process.” The idea of grief proceeding neatly through “five stages” has been imposed upon those grieving, thanks to Elizabeth Kubler-Ross. Fifty years ago, she described a progression of emotional states experienced by terminally ill patients after receiving their diagnosis. Because of her “theory,” those who mourn are often inflicted by well-meaning people with the belief that we should be “getting over” our sadness and loss. If it were only as simplistic as passing through five stages.

I’m not going to debate the veracity of Kubler-Ross’s framework. Others have already done that. But Mary and I know better than most that grief doesn’t proceed in an orderly fashion, even if some wish it would. Grieving people will always mourn the loss of someone special and loved, like we loved Mark. Continue reading →

Anita Hill 2.0

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Today is the “big day” on Capitol Hill. Brent Kavanaugh will have to answer to and about the allegations made against him. Several women have alleged that he at best, acted in an aggressive and sexualized manner towards them. At worst, he was/is a sexual predator.

Mark Peterson photo/Courtesy of The New Yorker

Since Mark was killed, I boomerang between days and weeks where life seems like it’s returned to “normal.” I go off and do one of my various freelance activities, or I’m working on one of the one or two articles I turn and get paid for by the auto trade magazine I’ve written for since the summer of 2015. The activity allows me to push aside the pain that comes with losing someone central to my life.

Inevitably, something becomes a trigger, and I can go from “nearly normal,” to freefalling into an angry funk. When this occurs, it’s hard to want to care about anything for a day, or longer. I’m angry at the woman who hit and killed my son. I’m angry at people who seem to be so self-centered and oblivious about others and their pain. I’m sick of thinking about how I’m going to scrounge up some additional income, and a host of other emotions related to grief and loss. This week, it was something that someone who I thought had my back, said. This person once again indicated what an absolute shit they are and have been since Mark’s death upended my life and Mary’s. But it’s always about them and always has been. I must remind myself of that and breathe. Continue reading →

Don’t Dissemble

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Certain words ring true at particular times in our lives. We might be living through something, or feeling under siege, and you come across a word that elicits that Charlie Brown response from one his infamous sessions with Lucy: “That’s It!!!” he shouts, bowling Lucy over, after she offers her diagnosis to poor ole’ Chuck.

The word this week (and perhaps this month) for me is “dissemble,” as in feigning, concealing, or tamping down one’s true feelings. This is often done for some gain: personal, financial, social. The dissembler might even experience dissonance in the midst of their dissembling. Continue reading →

Gifted

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Back in 1996, Nada Surf had a major hit with their song, “Popular.” It was a take down of the fickle elements of high school popularity.

The band easily could have become just one more one-hit-wonder littering the pop-rock landscape. Their record label wanted another “Popular” and their follow-up didn’t have one. Then, like happens often, the A&R asshole at the label began imposing his total creative cluelessness on the true creatives who made up the band. This process never results in anything positive, and yet labels have been doing this kind of thing, forever. Elektra dropped the band mid-tour, while they were in Europe. So much for “developing talent,” A&R schmuck!

To Nada Surf’s credit, they persevered. This meant touring whenever they could to rebuild U.S. interest in their band, while taking on day jobs to pay the bills. Then, Let Go, their third record, and the true follow-up that they wanted to make to their debut record found a home on tiny Barsuk Records out of Seattle, Washington. The band got solid reviews and here we are, 15+ years later and Nada Surf are still going strong. Continue reading →

A Year From Now

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People love making plans. Dreaming can be fun, and looking ahead might be “the American pastime.” If not, it’s something that most of us do, like we’re guaranteed a future pregnant with certainty.

This weekend I read a story on the war that most of us have forgotten about in Afghanistan. I empathize with the soldiers and their sense that this war seems to lack a purpose or an end game. I also thought about those forced to live, waiting for a bomb to fall on their heads, or to having soldiers kick in the door under the guise of looking for “the enemy.” I’m pretty sure that for both the soldiers and the natives, planning for the future seems like a moot point. Life for them simply becomes an act of survival.

What Does the Future Hold?

I know a bit about what happens when one’s life gets flipped upside-down. One thing that goes away is the certainty (and a certain arrogance) that you actually control the ability to look out into the future. The present is affected, too. Then, there’s the tendency to hearken back to the past and the preference to “live” there. Continue reading →

A Better Pope

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I was raised Catholic. At some point, Catholic theology became irrelevant to me and my life.

Later, I got into born-again-ism. That was okay for a time. Then it wasn’t. Something about Brother (Jack) Hyles not liking blacks riding on his First Baptist Church buses.

Mary and I were 23 with a son who wasn’t quite two when I realized that moving nearly half-way across the country to follow God had been a mistake. Jack Hyles was a phony. That was part of Mark’s history, too.

I wrote a bit about my Catholic experience in a previous book of essays. The essay was called “The Altar Boy.” My family of origin didn’t really like it. What I wrote was true, though. And I really don’t give a damn what people who’ve abandoned me time-and-time again think. I didn’t then, I don’t now.

Last night, Mary and I began what will be a new chapter in our lives of grief and loss without Mark. Periodically, we’re going to get out of the house and do something a bit different during the week. Like going to see a movie.

At the movies: Pope Francis

The Eveningstar Cinema, a place where we’ve both been seeing films since it opened in 1979 has undergone a makeover. New seats, carpeting, and a digital marquee out front (not the old climb-a-ladder-to-post-a-film-announcement signage that’s been there forever) make it seem a bit more 2018 (or at least less pre-Reagan). I’m pleased that Barry’s still in the movie business. All of us film buffs are better for it, even if his demographic seems to be getting older all the time. Continue reading →

Is It Summer Yet?

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I don’t know for sure if summer arrived on Saturday. It seemed like it did. 85 and abundant sunshine felt like summer.

Officially, summer doesn’t show up on the calendar until June 21, 2 ½ weeks away. Today’s 50-degree dampness and rain makes Saturday seem like I may have dreamed it. But I know I didn’t. I was there.

The White Sands of OOB mean summer’s here!

The flowers we planted are doing well. My two trips to Laurel Hill last week to water them helped. Going to the cemetery no longer seems weird. It’s now a part of my life and Mary’s. I usually bring poems to read to Mark. On Saturday, I read Matthew Zapruder’s “Graduation Day.” It seemed fitting after being at the Hyde School graduation the week before. The young man I’ve worked with since last September graduated. Continue reading →