Obituary for Mark Elliott Blumenfeld
Mark Elliott Blumenfeld, age 68. Devoted son of the late Jerome "Jerry" and Roslyn (Waprin) Blumenfeld; loving brother of Barry (Elissa) Blumenfeld, Beth Raymond and twin-sister Susan Blumenfeld; dear uncle of Caryn Raymond (fiancé' Brandon Tucker), Ryan Raymond, Ross Blumenfeld, Joel (Colleen) Blumenfeld and great-niece and great-nephew Eve and Owen Blumenfeld. Graveside service Thursday 10 AM at Zion Gardens Cemetery, 6758 W. Addison Street, Chicago. Family and friends who cannot attend the service can watch it on Mark's webpage on www.mitzvahfunerals.com live, or any time after the service. In lieu of flowers contributions to the Lurie Children's Hospital www.luriechildrens.org would be appreciated. Info Mitzvah Memorial Funerals, 630-MITZVAH 630-648-9824
Eulogy for Uncle Mark by Caryn Raymond
My uncle Mark was the kindest, most loving compassionate person I knew. I know he loved all of his family very deeply. Ever since I was a little girl, I always had a special relationship with my uncle. I loved spending time with him and he would drop everything for me. Whether it was going to a movie, watching a dance recital, cheering me on at a swim meet, coming to my house, or going to Nordstrom’s shoe department at Old Orchard.
I remember being 8 or 9 years old and asking for twin troll dolls one year for Chanukah and naming them Sue and Mark. My uncle Mark had a wonderful memory and could remember every detail of past events and memories. He would always tell me stories about when I was a little girl and something I did or we did together.
Although, I didn’t get to spend as much time with him the last couple of years as I would have like to, I talked to him and Sue on a regular basis and could always tell by the sound of his voice, how happy he was when I called. I can hear him say, “Sue, Caryn’s on the phone”, and his voice would light up and I could tell through the phone he had a big smile on his face.
When I talked to him about an event I was going to or a vacation coming up, he would say, “Thanks so much for the invitation but I just can’t make it there in time”.
My uncle Mark loved celebrating all the holidays. I remember him telling me about putting up some picture of me when I was young recently on the fridge or some art and craft project I made when I was in like kindergarten or 1st grade. We had a special love for his Pumpkin Pie and cherry cheesecake, which he would always make when I was in town. It’s hard to believe that we will never again be able to sit down and have a slice of pumpkin pie cheesecake together.
Mark, you were such a wonderful uncle. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better. I will miss you every day! As my uncle would say to me since I said it to him when I was little, “Don’t talk and don’t sing okay”.
Eulogy from Ross Blumenfeld
There are a lot of things I will remember about my uncle Mark. I’ll get to what I’ll remember most in a minute, but the first thing I want to mention is his memory. Mark never forgot anything, which is good because he loved to tell stories. I think every time I saw him starting 1997, he would ask me if I wanted to watch one of their home movies on VCR.
I would always turn him down, which he knew I was going to do, but I also knew that any time I saw him, he would tell me stories about things he had done as a child, things my father or Susie or Beth had done as a child that he ended up getting in trouble for, or things my brother, my cousins, or I had done as a child. I’m glad I never watched those movies because the way he could tell a story, even the ones I had heard before, was full of detail, his one-of-a-kind commentary, and matter care that no one else could provide.
Mark was the Blumenfeld curator. He knew our history as well as anyone. He took pride in it as much as anyone. His favorite stories were when we used to have family dinners. I think that made him happiest. And family didn’t just include brothers and sister, fathers and children, cousins, and spouses. It wasn’t just immediate family. It was everyone who shared the table with them.
Some nights were bigger than other nights. You could always tell how important the dinners were going to be based on the number of folding tables Mark and my papa Jerry would drudge up from the basement. Most nights were two table nights. Most Passovers warranted three table nights. But sometimes, when the stars aligned, there were four table nights. Those nights were different than all other nights.
One four table night in particular resulted in one of Mark’s favorite stories which most of us know as “the Olive Night”. If you’ve ever had dinner with Mark and Sue, you’re probably aware that they like to serve olives in little dishes. One for green, one for black. On this night, as Mark loved to tell, the green olives had, for lack of a better word, gone bad. Also, for reasons I’m still not fully aware of, Papa was in a bit of a cantankerous mood.
As the olives were passed around, people became aware of the situation. And as murmurs of the state of things trickled down to the head of the table where Papa sat, he defiantly stood up, grabbed the olives, declared, “there’s nothing wrong with these olives,” and proceeded to shove a handful into his mouth. He then bit into them and proceeded to spit the olives out all over the table. There were olives everywhere.
Mark loved his family. Mark loved his friends. The line between the two was often blurred. He loved the holidays, I Love Lucy. He loved Chicago and Evanston. He loved all of you. I know he’d be so happy you all came out to remember him today. Mark was kind. Mark was decent. Mark cared.
His door was always open, his phone was always answered. He always had time for you, he always wanted to see you. And he always had your back. And that leads me back to what I will remember most about him; he loved being an uncle.
If you’ve ever been to 607 Dodge around the holiday season, you’ve witnessed the small wonder that is the holiday house. If you don’t know what the holiday house is, it’s when Mark and Sue take ever Christmas and Hannukah ornament, toy, or candle manufactured since the Wilson administration and display it prominently inside their house.
Something that always warms my heart is that among all these decorations, among the Alvin, Simon, and Theodore decorations, is a paper Santa I made when I was in the first grade. Mark and Sue kept it proudly displayed because A) it’s really good, and B) because I made it, and that alone was reason enough to hold on to it.
I’m an uncle now. It’s one of the great joys of my life. I had a high standard set for me, but I think Mark has worn off on me a bit. Last night in fact I realized that in my apartment, the only piece of art I have is a picture my niece painted for me when she was four years old. That made me smile.
I said before that Mark was a man who remembered everything. So, in his memory, there’s two things I’d like to ask us to for him. The first is to be kind because that’s who he was and that would make him happy. The second is to remember him. Remember the stories he told. Share them with the people you love. That way, he can never be forgotten.
Thank you for being my uncle, Uncle Mark. I’ll always love you and you’ll always be with us. Your memory is a blessing.
Eulogy for Uncle Mark by Caryn Raymond
My uncle Mark was the kindest, most loving compassionate person I knew. I know he loved all of his family very deeply. Ever since I was a little girl, I always had a special relationship with my uncle. I loved spending time with him and he would drop everything for me. Whether it was going to a movie, watching a dance recital, cheering me on at a swim meet, coming to my house, or going to Nordstrom’s shoe department at Old Orchard.
I remember being 8 or 9 years old and asking for twin troll dolls one year for Chanukah and naming them Sue and Mark. My uncle Mark had a wonderful memory and could remember every detail of past events and memories. He would always tell me stories about when I was a little girl and something I did or we did together.
Although, I didn’t get to spend as much time with him the last couple of years as I would have like to, I talked to him and Sue on a regular basis and could always tell by the sound of his voice, how happy he was when I called. I can hear him say, “Sue, Caryn’s on the phone”, and his voice would light up and I could tell through the phone he had a big smile on his face.
When I talked to him about an event I was going to or a vacation coming up, he would say, “Thanks so much for the invitation but I just can’t make it there in time”.
My uncle Mark loved celebrating all the holidays. I remember him telling me about putting up some picture of me when I was young recently on the fridge or some art and craft project I made when I was in like kindergarten or 1st grade. We had a special love for his Pumpkin Pie and cherry cheesecake, which he would always make when I was in town. It’s hard to believe that we will never again be able to sit down and have a slice of pumpkin pie cheesecake together.
Mark, you were such a wonderful uncle. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better. I will miss you every day! As my uncle would say to me since I said it to him when I was little, “Don’t talk and don’t sing okay”.
Eulogy from Ross Blumenfeld
There are a lot of things I will remember about my uncle Mark. I’ll get to what I’ll remember most in a minute, but the first thing I want to mention is his memory. Mark never forgot anything, which is good because he loved to tell stories. I think every time I saw him starting 1997, he would ask me if I wanted to watch one of their home movies on VCR.
I would always turn him down, which he knew I was going to do, but I also knew that any time I saw him, he would tell me stories about things he had done as a child, things my father or Susie or Beth had done as a child that he ended up getting in trouble for, or things my brother, my cousins, or I had done as a child. I’m glad I never watched those movies because the way he could tell a story, even the ones I had heard before, was full of detail, his one-of-a-kind commentary, and matter care that no one else could provide.
Mark was the Blumenfeld curator. He knew our history as well as anyone. He took pride in it as much as anyone. His favorite stories were when we used to have family dinners. I think that made him happiest. And family didn’t just include brothers and sister, fathers and children, cousins, and spouses. It wasn’t just immediate family. It was everyone who shared the table with them.
Some nights were bigger than other nights. You could always tell how important the dinners were going to be based on the number of folding tables Mark and my papa Jerry would drudge up from the basement. Most nights were two table nights. Most Passovers warranted three table nights. But sometimes, when the stars aligned, there were four table nights. Those nights were different than all other nights.
One four table night in particular resulted in one of Mark’s favorite stories which most of us know as “the Olive Night”. If you’ve ever had dinner with Mark and Sue, you’re probably aware that they like to serve olives in little dishes. One for green, one for black. On this night, as Mark loved to tell, the green olives had, for lack of a better word, gone bad. Also, for reasons I’m still not fully aware of, Papa was in a bit of a cantankerous mood.
As the olives were passed around, people became aware of the situation. And as murmurs of the state of things trickled down to the head of the table where Papa sat, he defiantly stood up, grabbed the olives, declared, “there’s nothing wrong with these olives,” and proceeded to shove a handful into his mouth. He then bit into them and proceeded to spit the olives out all over the table. There were olives everywhere.
Mark loved his family. Mark loved his friends. The line between the two was often blurred. He loved the holidays, I Love Lucy. He loved Chicago and Evanston. He loved all of you. I know he’d be so happy you all came out to remember him today. Mark was kind. Mark was decent. Mark cared.
His door was always open, his phone was always answered. He always had time for you, he always wanted to see you. And he always had your back. And that leads me back to what I will remember most about him; he loved being an uncle.
If you’ve ever been to 607 Dodge around the holiday season, you’ve witnessed the small wonder that is the holiday house. If you don’t know what the holiday house is, it’s when Mark and Sue take ever Christmas and Hannukah ornament, toy, or candle manufactured since the Wilson administration and display it prominently inside their house.
Something that always warms my heart is that among all these decorations, among the Alvin, Simon, and Theodore decorations, is a paper Santa I made when I was in the first grade. Mark and Sue kept it proudly displayed because A) it’s really good, and B) because I made it, and that alone was reason enough to hold on to it.
I’m an uncle now. It’s one of the great joys of my life. I had a high standard set for me, but I think Mark has worn off on me a bit. Last night in fact I realized that in my apartment, the only piece of art I have is a picture my niece painted for me when she was four years old. That made me smile.
I said before that Mark was a man who remembered everything. So, in his memory, there’s two things I’d like to ask us to for him. The first is to be kind because that’s who he was and that would make him happy. The second is to remember him. Remember the stories he told. Share them with the people you love. That way, he can never be forgotten.
Thank you for being my uncle, Uncle Mark. I’ll always love you and you’ll always be with us. Your memory is a blessing.