Published by

K Mark Schofer

On the banks of the Chesapeake Bay sits a small town called Phoebus. There was a restaurant there called Fullers where one could hang out and “Eat Dirt Cheap”. It was the quintessential dive bar with killer Oyster sandwiches and the best dippy eggs south of The Mason Dixon line. There lived a peculiar group of smarmy men and women who shared the most macabre of jobs. They were paid to attend and participate lavishly at funerals. Phoebus was a traditional town, in a nontraditional place. Diehard locals believed that a funeral should be a gala celebration of a life well lived. Even if it was not. It was all about appearance with little regard to what comes next. This is despite the fact, that the some of the nearly departed preferred a drab dull affair. For reasons not known to many, It was their mission to ensure that the departed were sent off in the most vibrant and memorable way possible.

Hello,

I’m Mark

His friends observe Mark seems wired a little differently. Perhaps it’s more likely that noticing little things often missed by others is a relic of a quieter, simpler time. He has a way with words, which he refuses to let be hindered by sub-par typing skills. People have great stories to tell if you sit and listen.

A belief dear to Mark is that there is certain beauty in the world. You simply have to look for it.