Robert Marker as a young man playing in the back yerd with his sickle. Oh Ma I'm just playing grim reaper a little.
Look out death there is a new reaper in town!
This picture was taken at the old Santa Monica homestead. In this picture you can find myself(Jack Marker) holding my little cousin Jacob Marker. Holding Jakes feet is his father, my uncle Gary Marker. And at Garys Knees is his daughter, Sydney Marker. Standing next to me is my father Robert Marker and next to him is his mother, my grandmother "Toni" Marker. Three generations of the Marker tribe. This pic is a few years old Sydney is about 13 now and Jake is about 10.
This is a picture that was taken on christmas 2002. In this pic. (from left to right) there is my mother Holly Shutta. Her sister my aunt, Laurel Hand who was visiting from Texas. Laurels son Asher Jenny. My father Robert Marker and my fiance Barrie Waldman. This was the last time that I saw my dad.
My family used to have a dog named pumpkin. We did not name her we got her in front of the pound from a man that said he could not take her with him when he moved. Pumpkin was a mutt she was a cross between a greyhound and a german shepard. These pictures show Me and My sister Holly in one and me and our Dad(Robert Marker) in the other. This was a halloween joke, obviously. We all loved Pumpkin. We got pumkin when I was 4 and she died when I was 12. This picture was from the time we spent living in Florida I think I was 8 or 9. In either 1986 or 87.
This is a Picture of my father Robert RX Lee Marker and his father, my grandfather Alfred St. Elmo Marker. They are standing on the second level in the backyard of the house in Santa Monica, where Robert was raised. Robert and his brother Gary were born and raised in Santa Monica. I(Jack Marker) was also born in Santa Monica, but I was raised all over the place. The house in Santa Monica was a safe place I could always go back to the home that was eternal. About six and a half years ago my grand mother died and about a year later we sold the house. I still drive by it when I am in Santa Monica and remember the home where my father grew up, where I grew up some of the time. I haven't been able to go by the house since my father (Robert Marker) was murdered.
My Grandfather Alfred Marker died peacfully in his sleep in his bed at home, in Santa Monica. I wish that we could have kept that house, I miss it.