Michael Mulder’s Memorial Remarks

 

May 2, 2014

DAD’S MEMORIAL TRIBUTE TO DAVID ALLEN MULDER

The Conversation In My Head

On the drive over here today I was having this conversation in my head with David. I knew we were coming to the funeral parlor.  I also knew neither of us was too thrilled with the idea. So I said to him, look, we both know there is no way out of this. But it’s really not so bad. Everyone you love will be there: your Mom, Joanna, the family and all your friends. And we are all going to be honoring your life at this memorial service.

In my mind David said to me, “Dad, what do you mean? What is a memorial service for?” Well, D, that is a very special occasion when everyone gets together to preserve the memory of a person. Some of your family and best friends are going to share their favorite moments about you today, D . I am going to tell everyone the story of how I became your Dad. Then I am going to tell them how later in your life it happened that you and I became best friends.

Also, our friends and family have all been asking me what they can do to help. And at first I did not have any answer. Heck, I didn’t even know what I could do myself except cry. But I know what to do now, because your memory has caused us to take action. We are here today to begin to carry out that plan, which will preserve our memories of you and help others at the same time. It’s really a beautiful plan that your Mom, Joanna and I have come up with.

So that was my conversation with David on the way over here today. And what I would like you to do is join in on the conversation with me and Mr. D, as I liked to call him. When I finish in a few minutes, I am going tell you how David’s family has decided to preserve his memory, but first, let me set the stage for you.  So okay, let’s go back to the beginning.

How David Came To Be Named

Let’s start with how David came to be. No, not that part! I am talking about how he came to be named David Allen Mulder. Okay, last name Mulder: not much choice about that––pretty straightforward.But David Allen—where did that come from? He was named David after David Bransky: Susan’s mother, Ellen’s father. That brings us to his middle name ,Allen, which came from my Dad, his grandfather.David was born in Chicago at Prentice Hospital. Both of his namesakes saw him on his first day, as did many of the family members who are with us today. Date of birth was May 13, 1983. Susan and I always told David that the day he was born was the best day of our lives. That is how we felt about it then; that is how we feel about it now. David Bransky and my dad were men that put their families first, and David, as you will hear today, followed in their footsteps.

Sausage

Our friend Leslie Kittenbrink is going to share some stories about David’s early childhood days, so I am going to skip ahead and tell you about David’s favorite thing to do. I hope you saw the pictures here today of David standing at the sausage grinder with his apron on. He started helping me make sausage at about age 5 and helped me make it every year thereafter. You see, my grandfather Stillwell was a butcher, and I worked for him. He passed on the art of making sausage to me and, in turn, I passed it on to David. Making sausage was not only his favorite thing to do, but if we think about measuring his accomplishments in life, I am positive this accomplishment outweighs all of his others. How do I know that? Well it is because you can calculate it. It is a matter of record.I tried to calculate how many tons of sausage we have made over the years, and I came up with a conservative estimate of 4 tons. Yes, I really mean 4 tons of sausage (8,000 pounds: 25 years x 320 lbs average per year). What did David like about making sausage? Well, he liked to eat it, of course. But he also liked it because we made it together with family and friends. He liked every part of this family tradition that goes back to 1921, some 93 years of sausage making, with 25 of those being David’s years.  Each year, when he sampled the new batch, everyone would wait to hear his assessment, and each year D would say, “This is the best batch ever, Dad.”

Football

If you like sausage and you live in Chicago, chances are you are also going to like football. David loved football, and I won’t be the only one to mention it. But I want to tell you one story about David that made me laugh out loud when it happened. David, Joanna and I all had season tickets to Northwestern Football games with our family friends: Jim, Josh and Becca Phipps. We bought tickets under the family plan, meaning we sat in the cheap seats in the end zone. We sat there for many seasons and one day, when David was about 16, his friends Jess and Jen were sitting with us, two very cute girls. Northwestern got on a roll that day and racked up 30 points. In those days the tradition was that the cheerleaders and Wiley Cat would get down and do a pushup for each point, while the crowd would tick off the number of points as each pushup was performed. Northwestern scored again, wow, 37 points from Northwestern. We were up about 20 rows. All of a sudden David jumped up, ran down the steps to the fringe of the field, got down and whipped off 37 pushups to the count of the crowd. Jen had her camera with her and ran down to take D’s picture as he was doing the pushups. I thought it was the funniest thing I had ever seen.

Courage

I remember taking David to college with Susan and Joanna. He was such a great guy and big part of our family that we were all kind of depressed he was leaving (he wasn’t depressed–like most young men he was itching to be on his own). So we dropped him off and went on a vacation trip with Joanna and I remember the first hundred or so miles none of us said a darn thing. What we didn’t know was that David would soon begin to suffer the effects of schizophrenia.

The onset of the disease is usually in the late teens and early 20s for men. What is schizophrenia? It is a brain disorder which affects 2.5 million Americans, and 24 million people worldwide. The symptoms affect different people differently, but for David he started to hear voices. The more stress he was under the more the voices spoke.  And it was clear the disease was making life very difficult for him.

Even with the best professional help, it took a long time to diagnose what was happening to him and to treat the disease effectively. The medicine reduced some of the symptoms, but it never made the voices go away. They could come at any time—day or night—and frequently they were telling him that something awful had happened to his Mom and Dad.

This is a really terrible disease, because its onset is usually in the late teens, like it was for David, and he was able to remember how he was before it surfaced. He summed it up beautifully one day when he said to Susan, “Oh, Mom, I miss my original self.”

Though neither David nor I wished for this disease, there was one good thing that came of it. It just happened that because of it he lived with us through most of his twenties, and during that time we had so much fun together that we became best friends. It was quite an honor.  He did make progress, especially these past 4 years when he was able to have his own apartment and live independently. He was so happy and proud about that.

Joanna spoke to David’s courage the other day.  She said every day David would wake up knowing he would have to deal with these voices, but he got up every day, didn’t complain, and went about living his life the best he could. During this same time period, while the disease was affecting his thought process, he kept going to college, finished his junior year and made the dean’s list. Despite the voices, he was able to do this because he had a phenomenal memory.

David was strong. He took his medicine, which was administered through a shot from a large needle in his arm. His arm was always sore the next day, but he didn’t complain; he went to take his shot every other week. Susan spoke to the medical staff where he had been going for the past four years, and they told her through their tears how much they loved David and how they will miss him.

David had this mental illness for the last 12 years. During that time we learned through living with him and his disease just how important mental health is and how many gaps there are in the mental health system. So what can we do about that?

Please Share With Us in the Family’s Plan for David’s Legacy  

In that conversation in my head with David, I said our family had a plan for what we can do to keep David’s memory alive. Susan, Joanna and I were guided by two things. First, David loved to help people. Second, he loved Evanston. He loved the fact he graduated from ETHS, where he made so many lasting friendships, as you are about to hear.  Earlier this week we met with the Evanston Community Foundation, a group that looks to provide resources for good works aimed at helping all young people make the most of their talents and overcome the obstacles they face as they grow up. With the help of ECF we will be able to remember David by helping others while providing him with a legacy. The family has set up the David Mulder Mental Health Memorial Fund. This will be ECF’s first fund specifically aimed at improving the mental health system.  Please consider joining us in honoring David’s memory with a donation to the Evanston Community Foundation 1007 Church Street, Suite 108 Evanston, IL 60201, or online at evanstonforever.org

One of David’s friend said to me a few minutes ago that the thing he liked best about David was that he was a unifier. He introduced him to new friends he would have never had but for David bringing people from different walks of life together. We see that diversity in this room today, and on behalf of Susan, Joanna and our entire family, I thank you for all being here. We all feel your support and appreciate your love for our David throughout his lifetime.

 

 

John Milman’s Memorial Remarks

I first met David about nine years ago, as I was marring into the Mulder family. The thing that struck me about David and continue to this day, was his willingness to help anyone and offer a hand. He was also the official welcoming ambassador at any of the Mulder family parties…football games, birthdays, anniversaries, and of course sausage making. David always had a smile on his face at these gatherings and was genuinely happy to see everyone.

The other thing I loved about David, was how he loved to rib his dad. Whether it was about sports teams or the correct process of a home improvement project; and of course sausage making. Mike, it was great to see him put you through the paces–and I know you loved it too. David not only had a great heart, but he also had a big heart. He cared deeply for his family and this friends and would go above and beyond for them, as most of you in this room have experienced.

Leslie Kittenbrink’s Memorial Remarks

Did you ever fall in love with a 3 year old, who was not your own child, not even a relative?  Well I did!  His name was David, and I was  “wow”ed by his magical charm, his innocence, his contentment, his playfulness, and that smile!
He was always with his sidekick, Colin, but I saw him as though he was alone, and there just  for me, my friend, he was my buddy.
You see, we had the privilege at Sandpiper cooperative nursery, of being scheduled as helpers for the teacher. Each family had to participate.  For the 15 kids there was always the teacher and 2 adult helpers (be it a  nanny or a parent).

So we got to know these little people at the nursery school without their family members’ company.  I was drawn to David!  I came to quickly love him, and realized:  My God, I can’t wait to get to know his parents!  No big surprise, .. I loved his sister Joanna, always in her car bucket seat, as mom-Susan took the best pictures! I loved the three of them in the blink of an eye.

David’s relaxed, warm manner was always comforting to me.  Are you getting this…an adult who finds the kindness, warmth, and curiosity of David as soothing–so satisfying to me.  Oh yes, my Rachel got along great with David too!  After all, everyone did.  But it was especially nice for me when my son, 3 yrs older, enjoyed David as a friend.  They stayed friends all through life despite the fact that they lived far from each other.

As a child, David told his father what he liked about my son in his own words: Brad was fair about everything. Wouldn’t favor someone over what was right!  Im not telling you that to complement my son: …What kid would say that when he was a little tyke?  But David was a rather sophisticated, mature reasoner.  David could always read nuances and social cues.  A very high eq, for sure!

David came to Pittsburgh for a vacation for a week in 1993, so I quess he was 9ish. My Brad and Rachel and I were excited he was coming.  Even Doug. David had significant asthma, and Susan and Mike entrusted me to care for him, for the first time away from trusted relatives, with his asthma machine. I felt so honored! We all had a great week.  One of my most favorite recollections of that week was a trip to Blockbuster. We were picking out movies,  and he saw one that he brought over to me.  He said: Leslie, you must get this! It is so good!!!  It’s about a prison escape and all about hope!  First time a little kid talked me into getting an R rated movie.

To this day, Shawshank Redemption is my favorite movie!!  Thank you David.  You always had the best ideas! These past 11 years of difficulty, you managed them publicly as a pro.  You always were so positive in how you presented your  disease/ circumstances to others. “How have u been doing David?”  “I’m okay, Ive been through a rough patch, but I have a great new friend who adds a lot to my life!”

That’s how David was. Amidst his unbearable struggle, he always had his smile on and a great outlook.  Of course his parents and Jo lived the pain daily with him. His supportive family lived in him everyday, and it modeled so much to all of us.

I never heard an unkind word out of him. His cheerfulness, and the attitude he CHOSE made a huge influence on me, and I’m betting on you too! He was the finest example of that adage,
Life is  not about the cards you get, but how you play the hand you are dealt!   David you taught all of us that so very well.  I love you David Mulder!!  You will always live in my heart, and all the others’ who have been privileged to call you friend.

Mike Collins’ Memorial Remarks

My relationship with the Mulders goes back decades.  Mike, Jim Betz and I (or as David knew us Reggie, Vertlee and Geno) were the original three amigos.

The Collins family and the Mulder family grew up together.  We had Jeff and six months later Mike and Susan had David.  We had Lindsay and five months later Mike and Susan had Joanna.  Always trying to keep up!  As the old adage goes “you can’t pick your family but you can pick your friends” and we picked the Mulders.

Our son Jeff couldn’t  be here today but he shared some thoughts that capture all of our favorite memories.

As I think back about David’s life I find myself flooded with some of my best memories.  David and Joanna were like siblings to me and Lindsay growing up and I really can’t put into words how much they and their family have meant to us.

I remember how excited I used to get before going to visit David at the lake house in Miller.  The late nights we spend holed up in his downstairs room were always my favorite sleep-overs.  Somehow, though, we still found the energy to get up the next day and put on some of the greatest home run derby match-ups  the sport of beach whiffle ball has ever seen.  I still remember the epic showdowns between Cecil Collins and Ken Griffey Mulder, all pitched by hall of fame whiffle ball hurler, Vertlee (Jim) Betz.

As I am sure is true for many of us, I will also never forget how much fun I had with David during our many sausage making weekends.  He was the only one I could count on to tell me how many pounds of pork butts Mike had actually bought.  During the cutting process he would always patiently guide me through my “discard pile”, usually pointing out the small number of glands I had actually identified.  And when we were making links together, he never got on my case when I fed the meat too fast, resulting in the formation of a few “home-wreckers.”

David’s sweet and considerate nature was evident in nearly everything he did.  When my grandfather passed away last year, David was the first person to call me and see how I was doing.  Not matter how far apart we were geographically, he always made an effort to reach out and stay in touch.  David was a special person and although I will miss him terribly, I will never forget all of the kindness and great experiences he has shared with me over the years.

As we celebrate David’s life we will always remember his

 

  • Big heart;
  • Big smile;
  • Infectious enthusiasm.

 

We are all better people for having known and loved him.  This is, indeed, the ying and the yang.  David made our lives better and now with his passing will create a vacuum and a hole in our hearts. 

 

I’d like to close with a poem from Jane Kenyon which has been extremely meaningful to me in times like this:

 

LET EVENING COME

 

Let the light of late afternoon

shine through chinks in the barn, moving

up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing

as a woman takes up her needles

and her yarn.  Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned

in long grass.  Let the stars appear

and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den.

Let the wind die down.  Let the shed

go black inside.  Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch to the scoop

in the oats, to air in the lung

let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don’t

be afraid.  God does not leave us

comfortless, so let evening come.

 

 

 

 

Mark Mulder’s Memorial Remarks

Greetings;  I am Mark Mulder, David’s Uncle.  This is not an audience participation speech, but each person who has come so far has greeted you.  It helped me in my career as an elementary principal to receive a greeting from my audience,so I am asking you to say hello to me and to let David know you are here for him today.
   I want to say these words for David and for my brother Mike,my sister Susan, and my niece Joanna.
   I am more fortunate than some because every time I was with David I saw the real (original self) David, the one we all loved so much.
  You may not know …. I have a motor cycle… it’s 10 years old and in all that time I have had only 2 riders…… Jen and David….. Oh sure John drove it, but not Al, Marty, not Nikki, or Dan or Emily, or Stephanie, not Tony…….  and not Mike, Susan or Joanna !!!!
Only David
    But that afternoon with David on my back what fun we had.  He was excited, laughing, and saying “Wheeeeee!!!!” and “Whoaaaaaa!”   That ride helps me to reflect on the true David I knew.  So excited to be one with his Uncle Mark on that bike.
    These words expose the David that I knew: kind, considerate, excited (can you see it in his beautiful blue eyes?), tender, loving, caring, strong (really strong…  the arm wrestling matches, my shoulder out; the scale), caring and teasing  “Oh , come on Uncle Mark, that joke was so terrible!!!!!”  Then we spent the afternoon laughing it up.
     Ok, now I’m out of words, but I had to tell you about my nephew who we will all miss so much.

Jim Broadway’s Memorial Remarks

In his comments, Mike mentioned the words “memory” and “tradition.”  One of my fondest memories of David relates to our annual trip to the Holiday Bowl football game in San Diego, which, commencing in 1997 or so, eventually evolved into a ten year family tradition involving Mike, David, Grandpa Joe, Jeff, Joanna and me traveling from Palm Desert to San Diego in a rented van, Mike’s vehicle of choice, via a two-lane mountainous road exiting in Temecula.  The scene in the van was always the same:  Mike as driver, me riding shotgun, Grandpa Joe “holding court” in the seat behind Mike and me and David, or “D,” Jeff and Joanna occupying the rear seating area.

On Day #1, we would drive through the mountains to Temecula and then connect to the interstate and travel as far as La Jolla, where we would stop for lunch at a restaurant overlooking the Pacific Ocean and the seals basking in the sun on the rocks below the restaurant.  After lunch, we would continue on to San Diego, checking into a hotel located on the bay bordering Coronado Island.  Later that day, or the next morning, we would schedule a side trip to the San Diego Zoo, or the Wild Animal Park, or a Harbor Cruise to view the naval ships stationed in the bay or, forgetably, a trip to Legoland.  Some trips were repeated in subsequent years, although Legoland never achieved that status after the initial visit.

Day #2 would be principally focused on the football game, although none of us were die-hard fans of any of the teams which were participating.  We frequently traveled to the game via a train which stopped near our hotel, so further time in the van and taxi cabs was thankfully avoided.  After the game, which could end as late as 10:00 pm, we had dinner together.  In 1997 and 1998, the scene of those dinners was an Italian restaurant situated near Qualcomm Stadium, which, due to the fact that Joanna barfed on the table, during the meal, on consecutive annual occasions, we had to abandon in favor of a restaurant named Rainwater’s, which, ironically, was owned by a couple from Peoria.  Joanna’s mishaps, exacerbated by the fact that David and Jeff often engaged in “gas attacks” in the rear of the van en route to and from San Diego, while Joanna was wedged between them, precipitated Joanna’s withdrawal from the Holiday Bowl sojourn after 1998, and she was then able to peacefully enjoy her time with Susan, “GG” Ellen and Karen without further harassment from David and Jeff. All things considered, I thought that her boycott reflected her exercise of good judgment under the circumstances.

Day #3 essentially entailed the return trip, usually through the mountains, from San Diego to Palm Desert.  

These trips were filled with fun moments and enabled Jeff, who was eleven, and David, who was fourteen, at their commencement to forge brotherly bonds which still survive today.  And that, my friends, is my recollection of a cherished period of time which I shared with my nephew David.