Mark Taylor

The Journey of My Life

By Mark Anderson Taylor

From my earliest childhood memories to the many roads of adulthood, my life has been a journey of dreams, challenges, resilience, and discovery. Each chapter has shaped who I am, and as I reflect on the experiences that built me, I am reminded of the lessons that guided me and the people who made all the difference.

I was born on March 29, 1963, in Berea, Ohio, at Berea General Hospital. My father worked for United Airlines at Cleveland Hopkins Airport, and my mother was a homemaker. We lived in Brunswick, Ohio, a small farm town of about 1,200 people, where I grew up with my three older brothers—Al, Kevin, and Scott—and my sister, Kathy. Our family also included Henry, our German Shepherd, who loyally kept watch over us.

When I was two years old, my father was transferred to Chicago O’Hare International Airport, and we moved to Wheaton, Illinois. My earliest memories are of exploring the neighborhood with my sister, knocking on doors to find new friends. Childhood was filled with neighborhood games, riding bikes, and the laughter of kids running between houses.

My father and brothers inspired my love for mechanics. My dad was both an aircraft and car mechanic, and I often helped when they worked on bicycles, go-karts, and cars. At just five years old, I proudly disassembled the horn in his 1958 Chevy pickup. Though he wasn’t thrilled, he turned it into a lesson, insisting I reassemble it myself. That day sparked my lifelong interest in building, fixing, and figuring things out.

School was a joy for me in those years. I attended O.W. Holmes Elementary, where Mrs. Olson, my kindergarten teacher, encouraged creativity with arts and crafts. It was there that I met my lifelong best friend, Guy Tawzer. My siblings, being much older, often looked out for me, but I spent most of my childhood with Scott and Kathy. Our mother made sure Kathy and I learned how to cook and handle household chores, skills I still value today.

In October 1975, tragedy struck when a drunk driver killed both Scott and Kathy as they returned from a movie. I was only 12 years old, and the loss shook our family to its core. With my older brothers already away at college or in the military, I suddenly felt the need to be strong for my parents. I grew up quickly during this time, and my mother and I formed a special bond that carried us through the grief. Many of Scott and Kathy’s friends stepped in to support me, and to this day, some of them remain part of my life.

Music became a source of comfort. Ours was a musical family, and I joined choir and show choir in junior high and high school. At Wheaton North High School, I enjoyed history, science, and drama, though math was never my strong suit. I graduated in 1981, uncertain about my future but determined to find my path.

After high school, I spent two years helping my parents and brother run Wolf Lake Ranch, a “dude ranch” in Baldwin, Michigan. I loved riding horses, caring for the barns, and maintaining the cottages. Friends often visited, and those years were filled with freedom and adventure. But when my parents sold their share of the ranch, I returned home to Wheaton unsure of what to do next.

My family’s strong military background soon guided me. My father and uncle had both served in the Navy, while my brother and uncles had served in the Air Force. In April 1982, I enlisted in the United States Air Force and reported to Basic Training at Lackland AFB in Texas that August. I did well in training and in Security Police Tech School, and I knew I had made the right choice.

My first assignment was at Wurtsmith AFB in Oscoda, Michigan, where I learned the rigors of Strategic Air Command life. Standing watch during winter snowstorms tested me, but it also taught me the importance of leadership and looking out for those under my command. Promoted early to Senior Airman in 1984, I carried those lessons with me throughout my career.

At Wurtsmith, I met Shelly, whom I married in 1984, just before transferring to Hahn Air Base in Germany. During my three years there, I worked in high-security areas, trained others, and helped develop manuals for our squadron. Tensions ran high with threats from the Red Army Faction, and I still recall the heightened alert levels after the U.S. airstrikes in Libya in 1986.

In late 1987, I transferred to Pease AFB in New Hampshire, serving as a Security Controller and Area Supervisor. I coordinated with the Secret Service during visits from President George H.W. Bush at his compound in Kennebunkport, Maine, and was part of preparations for Operation Just Cause. My son Cameron was born at Pease in April 1989, a joyful moment in the middle of my military journey.

In 1990, when Iraq invaded Kuwait, Pease became a major staging base for aircraft headed overseas. Later that year, I returned to Wurtsmith AFB, where I was part of the support for Desert Storm. Though I remained stateside, I vividly remember watching B-52s launch directly into combat, knowing some might never return. It was a moment that made me deeply proud of my service.

By 1991, with base closures underway, I decided to leave the Air Force after 10 years and 1 month of service, separating as a Staff Sergeant (E-5). My second son, Steven, had just been born, and it felt like the right time.

Civilian life brought a new chapter. In 1992, I began a 22-year career with the Federal Bureau of Prisons in Milan, Michigan, where I worked in multiple roles, including Senior Officer Specialist, Legal Technician, Counselor, and NCIC Coordinator. I interacted with many high-profile inmates, including former Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick. After retiring in 2015, I worked with the U.S. Marshals Service and later in private security, continuing to contribute to public safety.

Life has not been without health challenges. In 2021, I underwent quadruple bypass surgery after discovering I had suffered a serious heart attack years earlier. Thankfully, I recovered well and remain active today.

In my free time, I enjoy my Harley-Davidson Fat Boy, spending time outdoors, and being with my children and grandchildren, Lillyann and Connor. My black lab, Sherman, is always by my side. I have also found joy in serving veterans, honoring their legacies in ways both big and small. One of the most meaningful experiences was helping my neighbor, World War II veteran Jack McClary, ride a motorcycle again at age 98. Organizing that ride—and seeing it picked up by national and international news—was one of the proudest moments of my life.

Today, I serve as the 1st Vice Commander of the Earl Gladfelter American Legion Post 268 in Milan, Michigan. My goal is to bring more veterans into the fold and to strengthen both our Legion and our community.

As I look back, I know I have lived a full and meaningful life. Though I sometimes regret leaving the military when I did, I am proud of my service, my career, and the family and friendships I have built along the way. Above all, I am grateful—for the blessings, the hardships that taught me resilience, and the journey that continues still.