Not a memorial gallery. A life: funny, ordinary, ridiculous, loving, and ours.
After our first date
The postcard became a running joke.
I always wanted a postcard when Marlon went on a trip. After our first date, he couldn’t find one from New Jersey—so he improvised with a hand-drawn turbulence cartoon and a note.
“Have fun—keep smiling. That’s what I like about you.”
Later, he finally found the real thing: my “official” postcard from Jersey, suitable for framing. Sort of.
The closest thing he could find to a postcard.After one date, he was already paying attention.Eventually: an actual New Jersey postcard.“Suitable for framing. (Sort of.)”
A perfectly normal vacation stop
The Extraterrestrial Highway
We drove to Area 51 because apparently Vegas wasn’t enough. There wasn’t even a dramatic painted line—just sand, warnings, and me thinking crossing it would make a great story.
Marlon, once again, had to be the sensible one.
Marlon found the spaceship.He held up his end.I was there too—still considering the line.
Florida seemed like a good idea
Feeding the locals.
Marlon, Anne, raw chicken, and several dozen alligators. What could possibly go wrong?
Marlon volunteered to go first.I apparently saw this and moved closer.
2009 → 2019
Ten years later. Same sign. Same us.
Still framedWedding day, with ravens standing guard.The cakeApril 26, 1997. Married, fed, and officially committed to the bit.The Summit, 1997Young, smiling, and apparently surrounded by mood lighting.Different day. Same shoulder.Still home.FML. It doesn’t get easier.Getting ready for what would have been our anniversary, I found the last anniversary card he ever gave me. One card can still knock the wind out of me.Doing hard timeOur last anniversary trip. Still finding new ways to do hard time together.His turn in the chairMarriage: for better, for worse, and apparently for sentencing.Elvis, againApparently one Elvis photograph was not enough.Just a normal dayCaptain America met a Viking. Obviously.Baby flamingoNot an ostrich. Apparently, this distinction matters.Spend time with your flockThe flamingos joined us—and ignored every reasonable concept of personal space.Accepted by the flockLunch with several extremely tall opinions.Young usApparently, I was already calling dibs.Out togetherA life is also the ordinary nights.Vacation evidenceWe went places. We did ridiculous things.American Gothic: Graduation EditionWe were happier than we looked. Probably.Wanted: NewlywedsOur 1997 honeymoon—because nothing says romance like feathers, a fake pistol, and questionable frontier justice.The cat tailI wore it. He hated it. Naturally, I kept wearing it.
The stories behind the pictures
Clerks III closed the circle.
When Katt was a teenager, we let her go to the movies with her boyfriend at the time—and then snuck them into Clerks II. Pillow Pants and the donkey show were funny as hell, but not exactly appropriate for a kid on her first date. At one point Marlon turned around, and the boyfriend gave him a look and put his arm around Katt.
Marlon loved the first Clerks, so when Clerks III was released, it seemed like the appropriate time to see it. It was funny as hell. Until it wasn’t.
Dante meets his dead girlfriend in the graveyard and tells her he can’t continue without her. At the end, he dies on a ventilator. It was fiction, but it echoed far too much of what I had lived with Marlon.
