In memory of Dr. mark Leonard Houllif

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As kids, Mark and his sister Vicki shared a room, and it was in that little space that they would spend countless hours together, crafting lyrics to his music. It was their special bond, a way for them to connect and create something beautiful. Vicki shared a poem she wrote, capturing the deep love and admiration she had for him and his music. 

4 guitars,
Stand silently upon a wooden floor.
Been restored to originality but never like before.
An instrument cannot perform without the master's hand.
The sounds of vibrations made by strings won't ever be as grand.
The heart and soul behind the sound was swiftly swept away.
I hope that up beyond the clouds they still can hear him play!

When I first met Mark, I was just 8 years old. We were sitting together, playing a board game while dinner was being made, and I couldn’t resist, I let out a loud burp. I looked at him, waiting for his reaction. As my mom scolded me, Mark just smiled and told me to say, 'What did you expect, chimes?' Right then and there, I knew we were going to get along just fine.

As we spent more time together, he’d create these wild characters—like Yum Yum, a cannibal who would chase me around and picked me up and put me in a big pot on the stove. And Inga, the Swedish maid with a thick accent who would take care of us. And constant hours of holding me and flying me around the house like Supergirl. Those moments, those stories, are some of the sweetest memories of my childhood. He brought so much joy and laughter into my life, and I hope he knew just how big of a part he was in shaping me through childhood and into adulthood.

At my wedding, he said something to my husband that I’ll never forget: "Be very careful if you make a woman cry, because God counts her tears. The woman was made from the man’s rib, not from his feet to be walked on, not from his head to be superior, but from his side to be equal. Under his arm to be protected, and next to his heart to be loved" Words like that, filled with wisdom and love, can only come from someone who truly understands what it means to care for another. A father’s love. I just hope he knew how much of a father he was to me.

Truly one-of-a-kind. Dr. Mark Leonard Houllif was and will always be the most extraordinary person we will ever know. Not only was he our incredible uncle, he was our best friend, mentor, and guru. His kindness, compassion, generosity, intelligence, humor and wisdom are gifts that we will carry with us, always. His exceptional infuence and boundless knowledge changed so many lives for the better. As he often said. "Pave the road you travel with meaning." That is something he did every day of his life, with unwavering passion, patience, dedication and grace. Uncle Mark you are loved and missed endlessly.

Mark’s early years were full of simple, carefree joys. He first lived in the South Bronx, where he and his friends would have the best times playing in the hallway, hopping from one apartment to the next, because back then, no one ever locked their doors. It was a kind of freedom that only childhood can bring.

Later, he moved to Brooklyn and shared a room with his sister. They had this big bookshelf that divided the space, giving them both a little slice of privacy. But being the mischievous little brother he was, Mark couldn’t resist climbing to the top of that bookshelf and dropping things onto his sister’s head. Mark was also the life of the beach when he’d hang out with his sister and her friends, guitar in hand, providing the musical entertainment for everyone. He had that special way of making everything more fun with his music and his energy. As a teenager, Mark embarked on his musical journey with a heart full of dreams and a guitar in hand. He formed a local band charmingly named The Lovin’ Kind. 

Their heartfelt tunes quickly became the soundtrack to community festivals and lively parties, making them a beloved fixture in the neighborhood, and his sister along with her friends danced and supported the local rockstar. Wherever they played, they brought smiles, laughter, and unforgettable memories. 

One thing I’ll always remember about Mark was the deep love and admiration he had for his parents. He often spoke fondly of the many cherished memories he shared with them. From vibrant holiday celebrations with his immigrant grandparents who spoke Ladino, to his Greek grandfather who lived on Broome street and  lovingly cared for the synagogue across the street in Manhattan’s Lower East Side, Mark’s upbringing was rich with culture and family connection.

He reminisced about family vacations in the mountains and Saturday nights when the scent of cigars and perfume filled the air as his parents prepared for evenings of dancing. They often gathered with friends at the Brighton Beach Club, creating a tapestry of laughter and joy.

Mark’s father, a World War II hero, was a brilliant man who spoke many languages. He worked as a sewing machine mechanic in New York’s bustling garment industry before becoming a professor at the prestigious Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT). Tragically, he passed away from heart disease at the young age of 58, a loss that deeply impacted Mark. Mark often expressed his fear that he wouldn’t live past that same age, as no man in his family had.

His mother was a vibrant and active woman. She found joy in Greek dancing during Pascha weekends, played paddle tennis, and thought nothing of walking miles for shopping. Mark adored her and was always attentive to her needs, speaking often about how much he missed both his parents.

Mark’s stories of his parents painted a picture of a family rooted in love, resilience, and shared traditions, and it was clear how deeply they shaped the man he became.