4 of Mark's Blog posts about his childhood

In the beginning is a good place to start...
 November 17, 2017
Growing up in a large Catholic family is a good place to start in youth ministry. Being the youngest of seven in the family is icing on the cake. Growing up down the street from the evangelical Wheaton College was a bonus. Going to 12 years of Catholic school with lukewarm Catholics added to the mix. Being called a hypocrite in college was the fire.

Five boys and two girls made for wild times growing up. Having all five boys in one bedroom added to the combustion. What kind of problems could five boys cause? Ordering pizza for the next door neighbor and laughing while it is being delivered. Playing hockey in the basement and leaving dents in the ceiling. Breaking windows while playing baseball in the backyard and playing it so much that we wore out the grass. Breaking a broom while handing out 'birthday spankings'. Fighting in the backyard over fouls during a one on one basketball game.

My two sisters were not ones to put up with much shenanigans and they had our family dog Funny Face to protect them. Who names their dog Funny Face? The same people who named their other dogs: Puddles and Freckles. And, yes, Puddles did live up to its name which gave it an early trip to  'the farm'. If one of the brothers tried to even touch our oldest sister, Funny Face went into attack mode. It only made it a more challenging experience to wake her up for breakfast.

Breakfast - one of my favorite memories from my childhood. I could smell from my bed, my dad,  making the coffee, eggs and pancakes, or french toast. It got you up real quick because food didn't last long in a big family with five boys. Of course, meal times were a sacred time for our family. Everyone had their seat. I was 'assigned' sitting next to my mother. On the other side of me was one of my older brothers. We called him 'the garbage disposable'. He would eat anything! We would add things like ice, salt and pepper, just to see if he would notice. Never did! Meal time was a time of prayer, grace before and after, laughter, fellowship, and more shenanigans.

In a big family, everyone has to help with meals: setting the table, washing dishes, and cooking. Being the youngest, I had nothing to do with cooking, but cleaning or setting the table. I perfected getting out of meal chores by hiding in the bathroom. Of course, it didn't always work out. The other thing I perfected was stealing cookies out of the cookie jar. I had to hold the lid just right.

Coming from my family prepared me for all the crazy things teens could do. My family also taught me the importance of being. Being. Being together. Being there for each other. Being together in good times and bad. These are things missing in the lives of many teens.

This reminds me of a story of a big family who lived on the west side of Aurora. They lived in a big house with the grandparents. In 1996, there was a big flood. The floodwaters surrounded the house. They were all huddled in the living room and suddenly they notice that the grandfather is nowhere to be found. They look all over the house. They notice the youngest child looking out the window. They ask the child if he had seen his grandfather.  He points outside. They look outside and see the grandfather's hat floating on the water. It floated to one side of yard and turned around and floated toward the other side. The boy said "I heard grandfather say 'Come hell or high water I am getting that

lawn cut. '"       

And to Think that I saw it on Glendale Avenue
 December 03, 2017
Glendale Avenue is a quiet almost dead end type of street. You really would have to have a reason to be driving on it. It was kind of a strange area of Wheaton. The neighborhood had no direct connection to the rest of the city. The kids attended Glen Ellyn schools. We participated in the Glen Ellyn park district activities. Our address was even Glen Ellyn. Yet, we were in the city limits of Wheaton.

Glendale was a tree lined street that had hills on both ends and was only a block long. So, I really did walk to school uphill both ways!  Our simple ranch house was in the middle of the block in the valley of both hills. Thus, when it rained, we got water coming from both sides. Consequently, our yard flooded several times every summer, so did our basement.

The neighborhood streets were resurfaced in an unique way. They would spray the streets with a thick layer of tar, and then a truck, loaded with very small white stones, would spread the stones as it slowly went down the street. This leads me to one of the dumbest decisions of my childhood. My friend and I had this great idea of riding our bicycles through the tar. I am not sure why. It sounded cool. We mounted our bikes at top of the hill at the end of our street and took off. We instantly knew this was a bad idea as the tar kicked up from our tires and started spraying us. We only made it passed two houses when we decided to abandoned ship. We were already going pretty fast given the fact that we are going down a hill, so when we try to turn off the street onto a driveway, our tires slid out from underneath us. Did you know that black tar does not simply come off with a shower nor come out of clothes?  Did you know that you can slide really far on newly poured black tar? It was the summer, so we are wearing shorts. This leads me to one of the more embarrassing moments of my childhood as my mother had to help me clean the tar off my body including parts that are 'private'.  Have you ever heard of turpentine? Yep. 

Being in the middle of the block with seven kids made us the focus of neighborhood activity. In the long run it made a great training ground for a youth minister. We played every conceivable large and small group game. We had the ability to adapt the rules of the game depending on how many kids showed up. We could play baseball with one person, two people, or more. There still is a strike zone painted on the back of my family house that my brother, the garbage disposal, still owns. You used it to play baseball by yourself. On the street in front of our house, was a sewer cover (first base) and a pot hole patch (second base) that we used to play a two man game that we called 'ground ball'. We played Capture the Flag, Bloody Murder, Kick the Can, Sardines, and every sport from baseball, to football, to softball, to basketball, and to hockey (in our basement). We had special rules depending on who showed up. We had yards that we used and yards that were 'off limits'.

Another unique feature of Glendale Avenue is the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad runs behind the houses. Between the houses and the railroad is the Prairie Path. These two features added another level of activity. Some of it was illegal. Between the Prairie Path and the railroad was a fairly wide ditch which was full of weeds. On the other side of the railroad ran College Avenue. During winter, if you were good enough, you could launch a snow ball over the railroad tracks, over a line of bushes and telephone wires and hit a car traveling on College Avenue. Of course, the ditch made a perfect hidden launching pad.

I don't recommend playing around railroad tracks. Yet, as children we spent a lot of time playing on the Prairie Path and around the railroad tracks. We did the typical activity of putting stuff on the tracks, and see what happens when the train runs over it. We threw rocks at empty box cars just to hear the loud sounds. We waved at train engineers and commuter trains. Yet, we also discovered something interesting. We discovered the switch on the tracks that causes the railroad gates to be activated. The switch was a good quarter of a mile away from the College Avenue crossing which meant perfect cover. We found metal strapping from the last time they replaced the railroad ties. It was just long enough to reach across the rails and make a connection. Yes! We were able to make the gate to momentarily go down.

The most eventful experience of my childhood was provided by the railroad. One night two train engineers thought it would be a great idea to have a race to Chicago. Two fully loaded freight trains traveling at a high rate of speed and heading for the sharpest curve on the line which was just a block from my house. One locomotive jumped the tracks and hit the lead locomotive from the other train. What a mess!!! Locomotives and rail cars spewed all over the tracks, streets, prairie path, and even some crashed into an apartment complex. Then, one railroad car was a tanker filled with pneumonia gas which was punctured in the crash. It spewed gas all over our neighborhood. Consequently, our neighborhood was evacuated. I ended up spending the night at my sister's friend's house. The site smelled of pneumonia for a long time.  

Glendale Avenue was an awesome street to grow up on. It was filled with children and great places to play. I learned a lot about friendships and having creative fun. I also learned what not to do. Dumb choices and the consequences that come with them. Like the time one of my brothers sprayed painted his name on a bunch of trees in our neighborhood. Really? Your first name? Grounded!! I even had my first evangelist moment in our sandbox as I tried to convince some neighborhood kids to become Catholic. All in all, there were a lot of great people and memories that could fill many blog posts.   
   
It reminds me of a story :
A little boy was so excited because his mom told him he is getting a baby brother. He repeated that to his teacher every day, when he came to school, “I’m getting a brother.”
One day his mom allowed him to feel the baby’s kicks in her belly.
The next day he came to school and didn’t say anything to his teacher, so the teacher asked him, what happened to his brother.
He replied, “I think she ate him. "

Happy Days: Grade School

 April 13, 2018
Growing up in Glen Ellyn was happy time for me. I grew up in a great neighborhood on Glendale ave. I went to a great church and school at St Petronille. The village of Glen Ellyn with its narrow tree lined streets and cement sign posts made an ideal place to grow up. Lake Ellyn was a nice park filled with tall trees and a lake which made a great place to watch fire works. It had a solid downtown filled local business owners like my father. Stores selling everything imaginable from clothes to hardware to liquor to groceries to toys. It had a volunteer fire department made up of local men from all walks of life. You would hear the siren go off and soon cars with blue lights flashing would be speeding through the streets. Glen Ellyn was big enough that you didn't know everyone but small enough that you couldn't get away with too much without your parents finding out.

As a family, our favorite place to go out for food was Don & Angie's Restaurant. They had great thin crust pizza and Italian food. Don and Angie were great people and friends of my parents. I never or rarely saw other customers in the restaurant area. Don talked and looked like he was in the Italian mob. In the back of my head, I always wondered. Interestingly enough, in early days of Saturday Night Live, the restaurant was highlighted in one of SNL's fake commercials. One night, we went there for a late dinner after the store closed. It was Black Friday. Glen Ellyn had a Christmas Walk. It was a night where all the stores stayed open late and served cookies, finger foods and punch. My parents served spiked and regular punch. I think I had several cups of spiked punch. By the time we got to the restaurant, I was feeling light headed and sick to my stomach. I think I was a little tipsy. 

My parents store was only a couple of blocks from St Petronille School so I had to walk to the store during lunch and recess. I always thought it was a little bit of a rip off. I got less recess time, and it seemed like some of the best stories happened while I was gone. St. Petronille had a pool so we had swimming several times a week. There was all sorts of hyjinks going on while changing our clothes from towel stealing to towel snapping to giving someone a wedgy to pulling someone's swimsuit down. If you talk to Sr Bernadette, I personally did not participate! 

I remember all my teachers :
First Grade  Miss Steiger - I had a crush on her. 
Second Grade  Mrs McLaughlin
Third Grade  Mrs Fill
Fourth Grade  Mr Pularski  - He threw chalkboard erasers at people who were talking.
Fifth Grade  Mrs Ceraso
Sixth Grade  Mrs Reese
Our principals were Sr Bernadette and Sr Martian

We attended Mass every morning. The first couple of years it was in Latin. I think in third grade it was changed to English. I became an altar server in Fifth Grade. Our pastor, Msgr Luke, was pretty intimidating. I remember being really nervous the first time that I served for him. He had been the pastor for a long time. He is responsible for building most of the beautiful complex including the swimming pool which was located below the church. He liked to swim so there was stairwell from the rectory down to gym/swimming pool. The complex takes up a whole city block. I still remember the powerful liturgies with the full choir, incense, candles, vestments, and processions. I learned the majesty of God.

I started playing baseball in T-ball. I had several embarrassing moments playing baseball. First, I struck out in T-ball. What?? Yes! Second, our field for playing T ball was Forest Glen School, and it had a forest of trees beyond left field. One game, I am playing left field, and someone hit the ball into the trees. I went racing after it. I get it and twirl around. I threw the ball as hard as I could back to the infield. The ball hits a tree and ricochets back at me nearly hitting me in the face. Whew!! It was close!! Third, my parents could never come to my games because the store was always open. I road my bike to all my games. We had a game get rained out and they rescheduled the game for a Sunday afternoon. So, my parents can actually attend a game. I am playing right field and an easy fly ball is hit to me. I don't even have to move. The ball goes right over the top of my glove and hits me in the face. It was pretty embarrassing! I was actually pretty decent at playing baseball. I was on several all star teams, but it is a game of failure. It will humble you very quickly.

Because my parents owned this shoe repair shop, and it was open six days a week, I spent a lot of time hanging around the store. Of course, I would wander off and check out stuff happening around town. One of my favorite places to hang out was Mr Walker's wood working shop which was right behind my parent's store. He made all sorts of things from kitchen tables to rocking chairs to cabinets. It was fascinating and I loved the smell of freshly cut wood. He made our kitchen cabinets, and refinished our kitchen table.

Another place that I spent a lot of time hanging around was the Chicago Daily News Office which was next to Mr Walker's shop. Ted was the long time manager until the Daily News stopped publishing in 1978. I eventually had my own paper route, but until then I enjoyed helping deliver missed papers. I helped clean around the office. I also helped unload the bundles of newspapers from the truck. I love the smell of newspapers. I loved delivering them. In fact, years later while being a full time Youth Minister, I delivered newspapers for the Chicago Tribune to make extra money. I loved standing on the sidewalk and lofting the newspapers in the air while having them land on the porch. Of course, there were a few times where the paper went off course, but I never broke a window just made a bunch noise at 6 am.

Craziest story delivering newspapers happened by Wheaton College. It was about 6 am. There are apartment buildings that face each other with a courtyard in the middle. I would park my car in the street. I would run up one sidewalk dropping papers as I went. Then cross the courtyard and deliver to the next building. Then, I would run out to my car. One dark winter morning, there is a female college student walking down the sidewalk. While racing out to my car, I practically ran her over.  She thought I was attacking her. She dropped her backpack and ran away as fast as she could. I tried tell her that I was just delivering newspapers, but she just kept running. It was crazy!?!

Another place that I spent time hanging around was the pharmacy a couple doors from my parents. I had a "girl friend". Her name was Ann, and she was the lady who took care of customers. Over the years, I bought a lot of candy from her. Next to the pharmacy was a pretzel shop that made those huge salty soft pretzels. There is nothing better than a hot pretzel with mustard or cheddar cheese. Next to the pretzel shop was a candy store that sold white chocolate that was to die for. On the corner of Pennsylvania and Main street was a bakery that sold half dollar sized cookies with a drop of icing on top. They just melted in your mouth. A couple blocks up the street was Webb pharmacy with a soda fountain where you choose different flavors. Ok! Ok! Yes ! I liked to eat!

My all time favorite part of my grade school years was our family trips to Flint Michigan to visit our Herwaldt cousins. My father was a convert to the Catholic faith. His father was a German who emigrated from Russia. They lived in a Protestant German neighborhood in a western suburb of Chicago. Seven boys and one girl. Two of the brothers moved to a German neighborhood in Flint. One worked at the GM plant and one owned a shoe repair shop like my father. They were faith filled loving men who married awesome women. My cousins are fun interesting people. We always had a blast hanging with them whether we were playing touch football or Bloody Murder. We would always have these huge meals in the garage because that was the only place that could hold nineteen cousins plus adults. Or, we would have picnics at Flushing Park. Now, we have reunions every three years at Christian camps in Michigan. I find the reunions to be more like a spiritual retreat. For me, it is powerful to be around faith filled Christians. My uncle who moved to Wisconsin was a pastor. I loved listening to him preach. My cousin Fred was a Reformed Pastor. He was a thoughtful person who always was looking for more and to go deeper in his relationship with God. Several of my cousins married pastors. My Flint cousins know how to sing worship. The preaching and singing  then the discussions over food or by the fire pit were just completely inspiring. Three of my cousins and their wives have become Catholic.

The most difficult and most amazing thing that happened to me was a blockage in my urinary track. It happened slowly over time. I started having more and more pain on my right side. I, at one point, would be doubled over in pain. My mom took me to a specialist at Children Memorial Hospital in Chicago. They put me on an experimental medication that they had little hope in helping. The only alternative would be surgery. Surgery in that area is always a risk because of infection. I was only in grade school so I was pretty scared. It was a pretty humiliating experience as well. I had to go through many tests where I had to pee on command. I had to have many catheters inserted. The whole experience was painful and scary. Eventually, surgery was scheduled at the hospital in Chicago. They prepped me for surgery and put me to sleep. Before they started the surgery, they did one more test. Miraculously, the blockage was gone!! The doctors were dumbfounded. I believe God healed me. 
 
 

Faith and Family
 November 28, 2017
Growing up in a Catholic family in the 1960's &1970's was a tumultuous time. Growing up in my family was even more so. By the time the 1970's were over, both my parents had died and my life was turned upside-down. Yet, in a relatively short amount of time my parents instilled in me the foundation of faith that would be the spring board into a much deeper faith later in my life. Their devotion to God and to the church, and their moral character have been key examples to me. Their strong devotion to family was an important part of my childhood, and impacted my own devotion to my wife and children.  

My parents were pillars in our faith community. They were active members of St. Petronille Church.  My mother was in the CCW and my father worked his way up to a regional post in the Knights of Columbus. They sponsored three parish bowling teams. My mother bowled in a women's league on Tuesdays and my father bowled in a men's league on Friday night. They bowled in a couples league once a month on Saturday night. They were part of a group of people that helped create a Catholic high school in Wheaton. St. Francis High School ended up serving all seven children. They supported and knew many of the priests and missionaries at the local Maryknoll Seminary.   

After the liturgical reforms of Vatican II called for more congregational singing, my father, who didn't sing very well, volunteered to lead singing during mass. He was also a lector. Our family of nine sat near the front of church usually the second or third row on the right side. My mother expected you to participate in every aspect of mass including the singing. My brother "the garbage disposal" refused to sing each Sunday, so she would make him sing at home. Of course, with five boys in one row there was always some sort of hi-jinks going on. My father, who was on some level a prankster himself, sometimes added to the craziness. After all, this is a shoe repairman who painted the words "help me" on the soles of the shoes of a friend getting married. Thus, when he knelt down the whole church could see it!

Four out of the five brothers were altar servers. Which brother was the renegade? You guessed it! The garbage disposable! All seven children went to 12 years of Catholic school. Five children either graduated from a Catholic college or at least attended several years of Catholic college. Our family participated in all aspects of Catholic life. There wasn't a feast or special mass that our family missed. Some of my favorite memories from my childhood are the majestic liturgies that we attended: The music, incense, vestments, and lighting. The smells and bells of Catholic liturgies. It was in these moments where my faith was nurtured and an understanding of God's majesty grew.     

In the larger community, my parents impact was even more dramatic. My parents who were children of German and Irish immigrants bought a small shoe repair shop right in the middle of downtown Glen Ellyn. They eventually expanded it to include sporting goods. The idea to expand started with the selling of used ice skates. Many children who grew up in Glen Ellyn bought their first pair of skates from my family's store. People brought their shoes, luggage, purses, tents and just about any other item that could be sewn, glued or repaired to my family's store. Thus, my family was well known in the surrounding area.

My father was an amazing man who everyone loved. He was outgoing, friendly and could banter back and forth with every customer. He grew up during the Great Depression and served during World War Two. He was a humble and honorable man. He served his community in a variety of ways. For example, he donated hundreds of pairs of ice skates to the poor. When he died from a massive heart attack in the fall of 1977, our family and the community was devastated. He showed me an example of a devoted husband and father and what an honorable businessman looks like.

My mother was the matriarch of the family. Being the youngest of the family, my siblings claim I was spoiled by her. I can't help the fact that I didn't get into trouble like they did. She was the strong  willed leader of the family. She loved to garden. My love of history was nurtured by her. My love of music and theater came from her. It was because of her insistence that I finally tried out for a high school play "Hello Dolly" as she laid dying in a nursing home from brain cancer in the spring of 1979. She had a strong faith in God, and was a Pro-life advocate early on in the struggle. Of course, I not only sat beside her at the dinner table, but in church as well. Thus, she nurtured my love for Catholic liturgy. She fully participated in all aspects of the mass.

Even though they were in my life for a short time, who I am today was built on a foundation set by my parents. I am eternally grateful to them. I pray for their souls every day. I have tried to live up to their example. There is a part of my heart that will always be empty.

This reminds of a story:

Paul’s stress level was at unsurpassed levels. His wife Pat was in labor and Paul was sure it was time to head to the hospital. Breathing heavily, Paul grabbed the phone and called the doctor. “MY WIFE, SHE’S READY, SHOULD WE COME?”

The doctor tried to relax the poor fellow, “just try to relax, now tell me how much time elapses between the contractions?”

“Pat!! ” Paul screamed on the top of his lungs, “HOW MUCH TIME IN BETWEEN THE CONTRACTIONS? TEN MINUTES? OK, TEN MINUTES IN BETWEEN!”

“And is this her first child?” Questioned the doctor.

“NO, THIS IS HER HUSBAND!”