Mark Friend “Turok, Son of Stone” Acerra, PE, 82, of Sandown and Madbury, NH, died Wednesday, 20 December 2023, at Pine Rock Manor, Warner, NH. He was born on 27 August 1941 in Medford, MA, a son of Marino and Elsie (Friend) Acerra. Mark graduated from Governor Dummer Academy in 1960, Tufts University with a bachelor’s degree in civil engineering in 1964, and Union College with a master’s degree in engineering in 1976. He proudly worked at the General Electric Company for 27 years.
He is survived by his wife, Catherine (Quartarone) Acerra; three sons, Peter M. Acerra, John J. Acerra, and David C. Acerra; grandson Alexander D. Acerra and granddaughter Emilienne E. Acerra; brother John F. Acerra; sister, Jane F. Paddock; and several nieces, nephews, and extended family members. Mark is predeceased by his son, Thomas J. Acerra.
Dad/Pampar was a loving, generous, and devoted father and grandfather who always gave way more of himself than he ever asked of others, and we will forever miss him.
Following cremation, calling hours were held on Thursday, 28 December 2023, from 9:00 a.m. to 11:30 a.m. in the Peabody Funeral Homes & Crematorium, 15 Birch St., Derry, NH. A memorial service followed at 11:30 a.m. in the funeral home.
Mark F. Acerra’s Eulogy
Written by David C. Acerra
Peabody Funeral Home
Derry, New Hampshire
28 December 2023
Good morning, everyone.
I know that when you were all making your holiday plans several weeks ago, they were filled with joy and optimism for the season and the new year to come. So I would like to thank you all for taking time out of your busy holiday schedules to celebrate my dad’s life today.
I don’t mind public speaking, generally, especially when I am speaking on a topic that really interests me and that I care about. But speaking about my dad in the past tense is still hard for me to wrap my head around. So please bear with me.
Mark Friend Acerra was born in Medford, Massachusetts, on 27 August 1941. He spent the majority of his childhood on Hawthorn Street in Rutherford, New Jersey. He graduated from Governor Dummer Academy in 1960, graduated from Tufts University in 1964 with a bachelor’s degree in civil engineering, and earned his master’s in engineering from Union College in 1976. He spent the first few years of his professional career working and living in Calais, Maine — a time in his life he would often look back on fondly. In 1970, he was offered a job at the General Electric Company, where he proudly worked in facilities at three different plants for 27 years. Following his time at GE, he delivered tires, made oars at Durham Boat Company, went back to GE part time and then briefly full time, and also at one point took a job with the State of New Hampshire for about four years. His first actual job was delivering newspapers as a kid, and he even had a side hustle in college selling coffee and donuts to kids studying for their exams.
To say Mark was always a hard worker would be an understatement because he also found time to coach soccer for an endless number of kids, raise three strong and good sons he was very proud of, build a log cabin in Maine, do major home remodeling in each of son’s houses, help take care of his grandchildren when they were very young, help friends with their home projects, and still participate in all of Peter’s, John’s, and my extra-curricular activities and life events. But this is only part of who Mark, Dad, and Pampar was.
Mark Acerra was a true gentleman. He was also unselfishly kind to everyone he met and was happy to jump in and help you, even with the most seemingly overwhelming of tasks. And he always did so with a positive, can-do attitude. He was also loyal to a fault and someone we all could count on when we needed help. I know for Peter, John, and myself, he was our rock and safety net. Even when he was no longer able to physically do things for us, just being with him was always comforting.
Even when he was long past the age when most people would avoid ladders to even change a light bulb, he was still insisting on going up on the roof to shovel the snow off. You could offer to go up in his place — figuring you were younger, fitter, and better able to handle the strain and risk — but he would never let you risk your safety when he felt he could do the job himself. When the house needed to be painted, the chimney repaired, a piped fixed, a room rewired, or whatever, he would set up his tools, staging, ladder, and anything he needed to do the work himself. If one of us were around, we would of course help. But if not, he managed to do it all himself.
When we finally convinced him to keep both feet on the ground, that did not slow down his work ethic. He would walk around to pick up twigs, sweep if he saw a floor that needed to be swept, hand us tools while we were on ladders working, or just be there if we needed some of his DIY wisdom. Even when he moved to the Poplin Assisted Living facility, he did not want to slow down. The staff at first hesitated to put him to work, but we said you got to, because if you don’t channel his energy and work ethic constructively, he may get himself into trouble looking for projects. So, he took out the trash every day, helped set up bingo and games for the other residents, helped clean up after meals, and was at the ready if someone needed help with anything.
Most of you are probably wondering why his obituary says Mark Friend “Turok, Son of Stone” Acerra. Dad used to say to us that he was “Turok, Son of Stone” whenever something looked particularly challenging or when we needed someone by our side who could endure a difficult situation, and he always came through. He would also remind us that he was Turok whenever we tried to slow him down or protect him for his own safety. To his credit, despite all of the physically challenging and precarious things he did throughout his life, or moved, lifted, and so on, he never seriously injured himself. He was also always staying busy and productive up until this past summer when his health took a permanent turn for the worse. He accomplished a lot in his 82 years and was a very resilient and dependable guy, so maybe he really was “Turok, Son of Stone.”
Dad had his quirks, and we can’t celebrate his life without recognizing some of them. He could be a very goofy guy. As kids, like all kids, we of course were embarrassed whenever he would show his quirky, goofy side. As adults, we came to appreciate his goofy quirks and saw the charm in the way he would often march to the beat of his own drum. For those of you who had the opportunity to visit Mark at his log cabin, you not only saw his quirky side firsthand in how he chose to decorate the only space that was truly 100% his but you also saw his resourceful side.
For example, the door to the bathroom was previously my brother John’s front door. It was free, it fit perfectly, and it did the job. So why spend money on a new one? When he did the plumbing for the shower, he installed the hot and cold water backwards by accident. He could have fixed it relatively easily because he left the framed walls all open, but it worked for him, and it was his cabin.
When we talk about Mark and his quirky resourcefulness, we cannot forget his fascination with refrigerator drawers. It seemed like he organized and carried just about everything in a refrigerator drawer. We also cannot forget the many uses he had for the glass dishes found in microwaves. My brothers, niece, nephew, and I have all been there when he would scavenger and dumpster dive at the Dover Transfer Center, and we all rolled our eyes and said, “C’mon, Dad. Let’s go.” But here’s the thing: John and I have actually admitted to each other that old refrigerator drawers can be useful, and we each still use some of the ones he collected in our own garages. He was excellent at repurposing and not wasting anything, and I hope some of that has rubbed off on all of us.
His quirks and goofy side are what made him fun to be with. My nephew and niece, Alex and Emi, have fond memories of their Pampar picking them up from school with chocolate milk, colored straws, and a bag of Famous Amos cookies waiting for each of them when they got into his truck. Pampar loved doing puzzles with Alex and even framed a few to hang on the walls of his cabin. My dad loved his sons unconditionally, but he always wanted a daughter. So when Emi was born, he immediately felt a special connection with her. He beamed when talking about Emi’s carefree dancing around the house, and watching her dance gave him great joy. Pampar loved his grandchildren — helping them, teaching them, and cherishing the time he got to spend with them.
I bet for at least a few of you here today, your relationship with Mark probably began when he struck up a random conversation with you. If you were walking by his cabin, he probably invited you in and proudly showed you all of the work he did or was doing. Yes, the aforementioned bathroom door may have stuck out as a little odd, but you were too impressed with his building skills, his creativity, his resourcefulness, and his passion to really notice or care. Before you knew it, you were exchanging cell phone numbers, and he actually stayed in touch with you. His kindness and hospitality were absolute blessings, but trying to notify everyone saved in his phone and email about his passing was a challenge.
Peter, John, and I followed our own paths in life, none of which followed the one Dad blazed. Unfortunately, the math gene skipped over all of us, especially me, so the next generation would not have any engineers in it. However, he fully supported each of us and did whatever he could to give us as many opportunities as possible. He also instilled as much knowledge — both practical and academic — and strong moral values in us as he could. Making mistakes was part of growing up, but everything was forgivable as long as you were honest with him. I experienced his grace, compassion, and understanding when I had a couple of minor car accidents in high school. He was the first person I would go to and explain what happened. There were definitely consequences, but I don’t ever remember him yelling, and I always remember him helping me make things right.
It is hard to summarize a life as full and as long as Mark’s, and I hope I have done him justice and made him proud. I could go on for hours about him, but we must all move on with our lives. So, I would like to touch on one more quirk, which relates to where we are having lunch today, and that is my dad’s culinary preferences. He was mostly a simple and plain meat and potatoes kind of guy. I think the only thing he consumed every day that was actually healthy was tea, with honey and a little milk. Otherwise, he was ordering plain hamburgers, spaghetti and meatballs, Eggos with six canned peaches (cut in thirds), apple pie, ice cream, lots of muffins, Ocean Spray jellied cranberry sauce, fried bananas and eggs, and I could go on. Most importantly, his favorite drink — the last drink of his life — was hot chocolate. He was not a fancy guy when it came to eating, and he generally preferred a good ole fashioned diner. Which is why Peter, John, and I would like to invite you to lunch at Mary Ann’s diner. It’s the kind of place where Dad liked to go.
In conclusion, Peter, John, and I are uniquely bonded — not only by the love and respect we have for our dad but also by the many shared experiences and trials we have had together with him. We must carry on together and let this experience strengthen our unique bond. My dad loved us unconditionally, and we need to do the same for each other.
May God look upon Mark with the same love, grace, and compassion that Mark showed to everyone in this room and to everyone whose life he touched but could not be here today.
We love you, Dad, and thank you for everything you have done for us.
See you all at Mary Ann’s around the corner. When you walk in the back door, we have reserved the room on the right. Take any seat, order anything that you like, and please raise a glass of hot chocolate in my dad’s honor.