Michael Parker

A tribute to Michael A. Parker (November 19, 1962 – November 14, 2021) by his loving wife, Karen Vesk
Let me start by saying that I was the luckiest woman in the world. Not only was I married to my best friend for 16 years (plus dating for three and a half before that), but he was kind, compassionate, creative, generous, devoted, loving, clever, witty and funny.
In his younger days he was very athletic, and maintained his love of football through his life: playing, coaching and in later years, watching. Fairview class of 1980, he participated in track and wrestling. He was active in several bowling leagues where he had many friends. He bowled a few 300s and 299s. I barely know what that means because I’m allergic to bowling. Although he was a gentle giant, he was graceful on rollerblades. His blades didn’t have brakes, and he could do all kinds of turns and spins. He biked and skied, swam and hiked.
I’m not sure how it happened, but Mike seemed to know everyone in the world (or in Fairview, anyway). We couldn’t go to Lowes or Wegmans without running into people he knew, and he always stopped to chat. To someone like me, from a big city, this felt like some sort of sorcery.
The first time I knew that I was in love with him was back in his cat-showing days. I still lived in Toronto then, but during one of my visits here, one of his cats gave birth to a litter of kittens. I remember well, how his big hammy hands first resuscitated - then held - a newborn baby kitten. Anyone who can show that kind of gentleness and kindness is easy to fall in love with.
If you know Mike, you know that he loved all animals, but our cats and dogs in particular. The birds in our yard were also his friends, and he loved to feed and watch them.
We suspect that he wasn’t entirely human, because he often shoveled snow in freezing temperatures, wearing a tee shirt and shorts.
Mike had a very quick wit, and had a funny comeback for everything. One time when I grumbled that the vitamins he bought me said “over 50” on the bottle, he immediately quipped “that just means there are more than fifty pills in it.” He loved quirky socks, the only touch of bright colour in his mostly-black wardrobe. One Christmas, I gave him socks that had days of the week written on them. He was at work and someone asked him what day it was. Deadpan, he pulled up his pant leg and said “Friday.”
Mike loved his job as a computer technician for CVS, but wasn’t afraid to introduce humour to the workplace. Everyone took mandatory sensitivity training, that dictated that off-colour humour was inappropriate. No innuendo was allowed. One day a female colleague gave him a perfect opening for a “that’s what she said” line, and he pretended to puff up as though his head was going to explode because he wasn’t allowed to say it. When the colleague said “that’s what she said,” his head dropped in relief and dramatically exhaled a “Thank you!” He looked for every opportunity to use that line. He loved making people laugh.
Mike’s father, Richard (Dick) Parker, was a Jeopardy contestant in the Art Fleming days, and it’s regrettable that Mike didn’t audition for the show. He no doubt would have been a GOAT (Greatest Of All Time).
In his spare time, Mike dedicated his efforts to making telescammers’ lives miserable. I would be listening and laughing while the telescammers sputtered and spewed in frustration. He put his Associates Degree in Computer Science to good use by foiling computer scammers.
Mike had a fear of heights but loved to decorate the house for Christmas. His muse was Clark Griswold played by Chevy Chase. Somebody had to put up roof lights and that somebody was me. Every year I swore it was the last time I was going to do it and every year I’d be up there again. Mike was my roots, and I was his wings.
I don’t know how, but Mike had the uncanny ability to quote every line from every single movie he’d ever seen, lines from every single rock song, but if I asked him to pick up milk on the way home, he’d say “I’ll try to remember.” He especially loved to go into character as Marlon Brando in “Godfather,” or Elvis Presley. He didn’t have a musical voice, but sounded more Elvis than even Elvis himself.
He wasn’t artistic, but he was the muse for a lot of my artwork. When one of my art groups (Nibblefest) had a topic that didn’t “speak” to me, he very often came up with an idea that I could expand on and work with.
Only Mike with his acerbic wit could put the ‘fun’ into a ‘funeral.’
He was predeceased by his parents, Richard Parker and June (Peasley) Parker, and a plethora of dogs and cats. I have to mention his very special Maine Coon cat, Tank, with whom he was particularly close. His beautiful Doberman Bridget’s cremains will accompany him in his casket (I’m sure they’re enjoying a rousing game of Frisbee together right now, on the other side of the rainbow bridge). He leaves behind his loving wife Karen Vesk, dogs Bentley and Maggie, and cat Tessie. He’ll be very much missed by aunt and godmother Shirley Hall, sister Lynne Parker Poyer, nieces Elizabeth and Julia as well as many Peasley and Parker cousins, too numerous to mention all by name. A special shout out to his favorite teams: Michigan Wolverines and Detroit Tigers. He’ll still be cheering from the cloudtops.
It wouldn’t be a eulogy for Mike if I didn’t include his favourite topic: beer. He wasn’t an alcoholic, in fact for someone so obsessed he drank pretty little. He collected memorabilia, and appreciated tastings. His favourite weekend activity was mowing the lawn with a push-mower, and if a friend walked by he always offered a beverage. It was an excuse to catch up on goings-on in our neighborhood. So next time you’re raising a glass, please drink a toast to my dear husband Mike.
Friends may call at the Burton Quinn Scott Cremation and Funeral Services, 3801 W 26th Street on Friday, from 4pm to 7pm and are invited to attend services there on Saturday at 9:00 a.m. Burial to follow in Laurel Hill Cemetery.
In lieu of flowers (because Mike was not a flowery guy), please consider making a donation to our gofundme account, or an animal charity of your choice:
www.gofundme.com/mikeparkerfuneral
Send condolences at www.BurtonQuinnScott.com