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Mark Vincent Schneider, 67, passed away September 24, 2026, in Waters, Michigan, reads his obituary. Includes a stirring poem, as I would call it, by longtime friend, Asher Sigler.
Since my youngest brother died last week, Thursday, 24 Sep 2026, I wanted to share with my family a few of the best memories I had with him as we grew up on Colonial Drive in Inkster, Michigan. These focus on his love for music and the outdoors. His Obituary can be found on the Gaylord Community Funeral Home web site here.
-- John Schneider, September, 2026
He graduated from Cherry Hill High School in 1977 though there is no mention of his name in any of the listings, neither in the Index at the end of the publication, nor in the Senior Class photo section. The strange thing is I did find a candid shot of Mark, one that Mark's older brother Greg took of him while he practiced piano in our basement in 1976 (a probable date, Greg doesn't remember for sure.) The photo sits on page 111 in the yearbook which you can find at this link. Another mystery is who donated it to the editors of the Yearbook and how the name that was captioned under the photo read someone else's name ("Michael W. Snyder!" who's picture is on the next page showing the correct face!)
In latter 1977 Mark was invited back to Cherry Hill HS to participate in the 1977 Christmas Concert as a Special Guest Artist. He played three piano pieces, one he wrote himself. The pertinent pages of the program were donated by his sister Lynn found here.
After graduation Mark landed a job where is older brother Bill was employed: Krasity"s Medical Supply, in Dearborn (later known as KMS Medical Surgical Supply, now closed). It must have soon become apparent that Mark's dreams lay elsewhere. He studied at a few institutions studying topics in the medical field, and soon he was a full fledged Paramedic serving the Detroit metro area with an EMT crew. That's where he met Asher who says Mark taught him everything he knows about the substance of the job. His eulogy poem indicates how much of an impact Mark had on his colleagues and patients.
While dedicating as much time as he could to mastering classical and jazz styles of piano, including a variety of other musical instruments such as the flute, banjo, and guitar. And master them he was able, fulfilling his main dream of musical performance, either solo or with a myriad of bands he joins or created in the Detroit area as well as in the Gaylord - Traverse City vicinity.
A special thank you to Mark's saintly neighbors, Donna Gillespie Copeland and husband Mark, as well as good friend Asher Sigler, whose devoted care for him in his last days, months and years. Their contribution to his quality of life has been immeasurable.
Mark's Facebook page is here: https://www.facebook.com/mark.schneider.374 for those who can log in to Facebook.Remembering Mark
Eulogy for Mark Vincent Schneider, by His Friend Asher
There are some people
who enter a room quietly,
and there are some
who arrive with a story.
Mark always had a story.
A story in his voice,
a story in his hands,
a story in the way his face changed
when he remembered something worth telling.
You did not simply listen to Mark.
You watched him.
You followed the hands,
the pauses,
the expressions,
the detours that somehow became
the best part of the story.
And before you knew it,
you were smiling.
Mark was not everyone's cup of tea.
He was stronger than tea.
He was coffee with an extra shot,
a little too hot,
impossible to ignore,
and somehow, once you got used to him,
you wondered how the room ever felt right
without him in it.
Because once you really knew Mark,
you saw what lived beneath the personality.
You saw his heart.
For years,
his hands lifted strangers,
carried the sick,
comforted the frightened,
and held the hands of people
who needed another human being
more than they needed another word.
He noticed the things others missed.
A towel around someone's neck
because they were cold.
An extra pillow.
A hand held a little longer.
A frightened patient treated
not like a case,
not like a number,
but like family.
Mark understood something
that cannot be taught in a classroom:
sometimes healing
is not medicine.
Sometimes healing
is simply making sure
someone does not feel alone.
And then there was the music.
The truth is,
Mark was a paramedic by profession,
but somewhere deeper,
he belonged to music.
There was no such thing
as just a piano
when Mark was nearby.
A piano in a home,
a hallway,
a restaurant,
a waiting room,
or the middle of nowhere
was apparently placed there
for one reason.
For Mark to play it.
And he did.
His hands,
the same hands that comforted patients,
became something different at the keys.
Gentle.
Certain.
Beautiful.
The room changed.
People stopped talking.
And for a moment,
whatever pain had followed them inside
had somewhere else to go.
That was Mark too.
He brought comfort
without always realizing
that he was doing it.
He lived simply,
but there was nothing simple about him.
His thoughts were deep.
His words were careful.
His personality was large.
His loyalty was larger.
And if Mark loved you,
there was never much doubt about it.
He would give you
the shirt off his back,
and probably tell you a twenty-minute story
while taking it off.
He gave without keeping score.
He helped without asking
what he would receive in return.
He loved his friends fiercely.
And somewhere inside
all that complexity,
all the opinions,
all the stories,
all the music,
was an extraordinarily gentle soul.
Now the room is quieter.
There is one less voice
telling a story.
One less pair of hands
moving through the air.
One less person
noticing the cold patient,
the uncomfortable stranger,
the lonely friend.
And somewhere,
there is a piano
that will sit untouched
a little longer than it used to.
That may be the hardest part.
Because Mark spent his life
leaving something behind.
Comfort.
Laughter.
Music.
Memories.
He spent his life
helping people through moments
they thought they could not survive.
And now, somehow,
we are the ones
trying to learn how to live
through a moment without him.
But maybe Mark left us
one last lesson.
Pay attention to the little things.
Hold someone's hand.
Give them the extra pillow.
Tell the story.
Love your friends fiercely.
And if you see a piano,
play it.
Play it loudly.
Play it beautifully.
Play it until the room changes.
Because somewhere in every note,
every laugh,
every story told with hands flying through the air,
Mark will still be there.
And those of us
who were lucky enough to know him
will still hear the music.
-- Asher Sigler, 2026
Three Memories of Mark Vincent Schneider
I want to share three of the best memories I have of youngest brother Mark Vincent Schneider, among those I’m most fond. One is of including him in attending a concert at Cobo Hall, Detroit, hearing Jethro Tull’s performance of Thick As A Brick. The second is of a backpacking trip in the Monongahela National Forest on West Virginia. The third is another backpacking trip in the Rocky Mountains.
The Concert
In early November of 1972 Mark accompanied me along with a few of my friends, all enthusiastic Tull fans, including brother Bill, to hear Jethro Tull live in Cobo Hall in Detroit. I’m sure Gary Kiester was among us, with John Neph, among others. The performance consisted of Tull's most recent release, Thick As A Brick, a ground breaking, breathtaking masterpiece, and still is to this today. In other words, we were all blown away by this work. And to see it performed live was to be a spectacular experience.
We were all sitting in our seats directly facing the stage, settling in for the appearance of the band, watching roadies setting up sound equipment. All of a sudden those stage hands kicked off the opening salvo of Thick As A Brick (TAAB as it is known to Tull enthusiasts) and to our surprise, those weren’t stage hands, they were the Jethro Tull band members! I don’t know if the audience went wild or just were just stunned by the magnificent tones of the first song, but we sat memorized for the duration of the concert.
Mark later told me that witnessing that performance was to him the catalyst to pursue a career involving live performance, a desire he attained, especially in the last few years, playing a number of venues in the Gaylord-Traverse City area. He was very proficient with the guitar, piano, and flute.
Backpack trip Number One
The trip to the Monongahela Wilderness area was my first real backpacking experience. I don't remember the exact date but it must have occurred between 1974 and 1976. Gay Kiester asked me to accompany him to a section of this exquisite forest in West Virginia and Mark was invited to join us.
Since he was born in 1959 he would have been around 16 years old. He enjoyed the beauty and simplicity of Nature. He also was a minimalist at that time, he didn't want to carry all the trappings of a normal backpack excursion, so he declined to bring a sleeping bag and tent. Instead he would sleep out in the open and rely on the dubious protection of what was then called a “space blanket” which was a silver Mylar sheet that had the appearance of those devices that are now used in cars which, placed against the windshield, should minimize heat buildup in the vehicle. He thought for sure this would give him all the comfort he would require for sleeping under the stars. His supposition would be sorely tested.
We probably parked our vehicle in Durban, West Virginia, and made the trek into the woods. The weather was marvelous, I don’t recall getting any rain. Hiking temps were fairly pleasant. We walked some miles enjoying God’s verdant creation and all that comes with getting so completely away from civilization, which was another thing Mark appreciated in those days.
The first night we setup camp Gary and I set up our tents. I rolled out my Army surplus sleeping bag and peacefully slept until the birds woke us up the next morning. Mark apparently did not endure a pleasant night’s sleep. The flimsy “space blanket” did not perform to his expectations. By the second night he had enough. While I was in my bag sleeping Mark came to my tent and asked if he could come in. He indicated that he was not going to make it another night with just this sheet over him. When we laid down to sleep I unzipped the sleeping bag and with it we both covered ourselves as best we could and managed to get the sleep we needed. I’m glad he asked for help and that I could offer some measure of relief for him. I’m sure it helped him enjoy the remaining days of our excursion.
Backpack trip Number Two
The last backpacking trip I made was in 1976 or 1977. Gary Kiester had forsaken civilization and moved out to Montana to become a “mountain man”. He became familiar with some wonderful backpacking locations and called upon his friends to come west and visit him in Helena. He also asked if we would bring his stereo speakers to complete his stereo setup. So friend and neighbor John Neph and I agreed to drive an approximately 1500 mile. 25 hour road-trip, and Mark agreed to come along to see the Rocky’s. The drive was grueling, only stopped for gas and food. John shared the driving duties with me as Mark was too young to drive being only about 17. But when we reached the middle of Montana we really found out what was meant by “the big sky country”, the scenery was spectacular and the sky felt surreal in its immensity.
The first area Gary wanted to share with us was the Bob Marshall Wilderness area. This magnificent place is located about 65 miles northwest of Helena, and Gary guided us to a trail head called Mortimer Gulch (where he would later find a place to reside in a tiny one room cabin to spend the rest of his life). The most spectacular thing that happened on this trip was being enveloped in the pristine nature and the Rocky Mountains and hiking near the so-called Chinese Wall, which is what the Continental Divide in named in the location we hiked.
During our stay with Gary in Helena, or should I say with Gary’s friends, as he was staying in a trailer owned by two others, husband and wife. But Gary had a second location to share with us, and we drove out to the northern edge of Yellowstone Park. Just inside the Montana border is Cooke City. From there the four of us hiked into bear country (didn't see any, fortunately). And we camped on the edge of Fossil Lake across from which rose the relatively majestic Mount Rosebud. (The picture below shows what we saw from our camp site.)
During our too-short stay along Fossil Lake Mark and I hiked around the water’s edge over to the two mountains with the objective of making it to the top. We accomplished this after quite an exertion. The upper half of the mountain was snow covered at the time but the weather was delightful and we didn't mind the chill at all, immersing ourselves in the majesty of the mountain peaks that surrounded us. The side of the peak that faced the lake had a smooth face and being shaded from the sun full of snow. Mark and I did not relish returning to camp by the way we came so without much hesitancy decided that body skiing down was to most efficient way to return to the lake. So we stepped off and slid down the mountainside safely reaching the bottom.
And with those exciting and refreshing times, and after a day or two of rest, we bid Gary adieu, and Mark, John Neph, and I drove back to Inkster, Michigan, with great memories to cherish. In years to come Mark would mention to me his gratefulness that he was included in these events
Fossil Lake Montana
Mark Schneider 1977 CHHS Yearbook, page 111
Searching for Mark's Senior Picture in the Cherry Hill High School yearbooks around the time he should have graduated, 1976 - 1978, resulted in nothing! I searched then for his name in the graduating classes of those years. Again, nothing! So I scrolled through the yearbooks page by page and low and behold, I found a picture in the 1977 CHHS yearbook of Mark! It was a candid shot of him at a piano, and most bizarre, the name the editors gave the picture is "Michael W. Snyder"!!! The photo is most definitely of my brother Mark Schneider; and in the list of Senior photos there is a "Michael W. Snyder" with a picture of the real Michael W. Snyder. But there is no listing for Mark Schneider in either the 1977 yearbook or the 1978. Maybe he just didn't show up during the day of the shoot. He was kind of the individualist. I'm not surprised in the year-book's name mixup, those student editors who worked on the yearbook were not paid and no doubt did their best(!)
Then after pondering this for a day or so it struck me that this was probably a picture that our brother Greg took around 1976, I had scanned his photo album in 2002. So I looked back and sure enough, there were 2 images that he took of Mark in our basement playing the old Ivers & pond piano. Asking Greg about them he couldn't recall how they would have gotten into the hands of the yearbook editors!
The CHHS webmaster, Jamie Pratt, was gracious enough to make the change in the on-line yearbook. Thanks so much, Jamie!!!
Mark Performs in the Cherry Hill High School 1977 Christmas Concert
In December 19, 1977, the year Mark graduated, he returned to his alma mater, having been invited to participate in that year's Cherry Hill High School Christmas Concert as a Special Guest Artist. Mark's sister Lynn Schneider Stevens found her copy of the concert program. Below are the pages pertinent to this site. He played three piano pieces, one he had composed.
The text on the centerfold spread reads: TONIGHT we are pleased to present pianist, Mark Schneider, a 1977 Cherry Hill graduate. Mark is currently pursuing a rigorous private study and practice, dedicating his energies to develop, through performance, a personal means of communication with his audience. His musical interpretation goes beyond conventional improvisation and that of sounds the audience has become accustomed to hear. We hope you will enjoy and tune into the creative sounds of guest artist, Mark Schneider.
"It has been the goal of an artist to transform his thoughts at a given time, into a physical, viewable form. This is done by using the device of a paint brush or perhaps that of a musical instrument. It is my goal to make thought and sound one; top let others hear my thoughts as they are channeled through my fingers and onto the keyboard."
--Mark Schneider
