trip – the weather, my experiences in general. There was a lull in the conversation. Mother gave
me a sideways glance and simply said, “Dad?”
My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. “The Eklunds called
last night,” he began.
“Really?” I said. “I haven’t heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is.”
Dad responded quietly. “Mark was killed in Vietnam,” he said. “The funeral is tomorrow, and
his parents would like it if you could attend.”
To this day, I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark.
I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature.
All I could think at that moment was “Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if
only you would talk to me.”
The church was packed with Mark’s friends. Chuck’s sister sang “The Battle Hymn of the
Republic.” Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the
graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps.
One by one, those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.
I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as a
pallbearer came up to me. “Were you Mark’s math teacher?” he asked. I nodded as I continued
to stare at the coffin. “Mark talked about you a lot,” he said.
After the funeral, most of Mark’s former classmates headed to Chuck’s farmhouse for lunch.
Mark’s mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. “We want to show you
something, “ his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket.
“They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it.”
Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of paper that had obviously been
taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on
which I had listed all the good things each one of Mark’s classmates had said about him. “Thank
you so much for doing that,” Mark’s mother said. “As you can see, Mark treasured it.” Mark’s
classmates started to gather around us.
Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, “I still have my list. It’s in my top drawer of my desk
at home.”
Chuck’s wife said, “Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album.”
“I have mine too,” Marilyn said. “It’s in my diary.”
Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her
worn and frazzled list to the group. “I carry this with me at all times,” Vicki said without batting
an eyelash. “I think we