Manuel Marroquin
Manuel A. Marroquin, beloved husband of 35 years to Coreen (nee Pell) Marroquin (A.K.A. Francia, Margaret, Francita, Viola, Margarita, and Makesha), loving father of Gina C. Marroquin (A.K.A. Donzsteinz, Junz, pollito [little chicken], conejito lindo [cute little rabbit], nena-ena, and nenita linda), suddenly and tragically passed away in the wee hours of the morning on Saturday, December 14, 2024, just ten days shy of what would have been his 72nd birthday, Christmas Eve.
Manuel is survived by his wife, Coreen, his daughter, Gina, as well as his sisters Arcely de Villatoro Marroquín and Anabella Marroquín Hernández, brother Mario Marroquín Hernández, numerous nieces and nephews, and extended members of the Marroquín Hernández family, most of whom still reside in Guatemala and are deeply mourning and honoring him from afar.
Visitation is scheduled for Thursday, 12/19/2024 at Theis-Gorski Funeral Home and Cremation Service, from 4pm to 8pm CST, located at 3517 N Pulaski Rd, Chicago, IL 60641 (phone number is 773.463.5800). A full, Catholic funeral mass will be held the following day, on Friday, 12/20/2024, at St. Viator Catholic Church, located at 4140 W Addison St, Chicago, IL 60641 (phone number is 773.545.2173), with burial following at Montrose Cemetery, located at 5400 N Pulaski Rd, Chicago, IL 60630 (phone number is 773.478.5400).
In lieu of flowers, because Manuel was such a lover of nature and was always reminding his wife, daughter, friends, and colleagues, “Remember my planet!”, please consider purchasing or potting your own favorite house or garden plant. And, if you choose to do so, and we hope you do, please give it the tender, loving care and kindness that our incredible husband and dad did for all of his cherished plants for many years. In addition, or as an alternative, please also consider giving a donation in Manuel’s name to your favorite charity dedicated to climate change activism.
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Our beloved husband and father, Manuel Antonio Marroquin was born in Guatemala City, Guatemala on Christmas Eve, December 24, 1952 and lived a spirited and adventurous life there until he settled in Chicago many years later. He became a proud American citizen on September 24, 1996, coincidentally alongside one of his very best friends, Adelso Morales (Gina’s godfather/padrino), who also sadly passed away in September 2023. That fateful date—September 24th, 1996—was also exactly eight years to the day after he and Coreen met at a party that they both almost didn’t attend, on September 24, 1988. It’s true, serendipity certainly has a way.
Manuel transcended kindness and was the embodiment of caring and helpful. This was apparent in his doting nature as a husband and father, his career as an educator, and his industriousness working as a house cleaner and handyman (even though he wasn’t super handy at the time) in the early years of his time in Chicago when he lived in the Uptown neighborhood on Catalpa Avenue.
He was a talented, enthusiastic, nurturing, and dedicated teacher. During his early career in Guatemala, Manuel taught English as a Second Language (ESL) at Universidad de San Carlos de Guatemala (University of San Carlos of Guatemala) with esteemed colleagues hailing from all over the world. In May 1995, he began the last chapter of his storied teaching career at Mark Twain Elementary School in the Garfield Ridge neighborhood on Chicago’s South Side, where he retired in June 2013. Mark Twain was one of Manuel’s greatest heroes, so it’s fitting that he would close out his career at a school with the legendary author’s namesake. Manuel—or Mr. Marroquin in the hallowed halls of Twain Elementary—was beloved and admired by his students, fellow teachers, and parents alike and is remembered as someone who truly put his heart and soul into teaching and into the wellbeing of his students. His classroom, even when it was at one time behind the stage curtain in the auditorium, was a vibrant space where students were encouraged to embrace their cultural backgrounds and connect to literature, which Manuel had a talent for bringing to life.
Beyond the teaching world and in the world at large, Manuel was loved, admired, and respected by many. His beaming smile and exuberant and eccentric sense of humor could brighten anyone’s day. He was known for telling silly jokes and sharing “anecdotes” of his entertaining past. The only “stories” he told were his “Manuelito stories de ‘Radio Misterio'” to Gina during afternoons at Independence Park during the summer, or on rides home after picking her up from school. He is remembered for quirky expressions that only he could’ve invented, such as, “Stay off the trees!”, “Such is life in the tropics”, “Oh well, sometimes!”, and “I had a very eclectic day.” He also loved all kinds of music—oldies, marimba, classical, rock ‘n roll, country, etc.—and would dance whenever the mood struck, alone or with a willing dance partner, it didn’t matter to him.
Manuel was also the most frustrated singer, constantly serenading Coreen and Gina, to both their amusement and (sometimes) exasperation, with lyrics to some of his favorite songs by the likes of Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, and Raphael, as well as with his original, tuneless compositions, like his most famous, “flores de mi jardín, que bellas son los flores de mi jardín” (“flowers of my garden, how beautiful are the flowers of my garden”). That song in particular he sang not just to his wonderful ladies, but to his beautiful garden and house plants that he faithfully tended to with love, care, and enthusiasm all year round. He loved gardening and took pride in the colorful flowers he planted and his vegetable harvests, no matter how big or small.
Manuel adored and cherished his home in the Avondale neighborhood from the moment our small but mighty family moved into it on September 26, 1996, and it was his favorite place to be. As much as he loved being outdoors and in his beautiful garden, Manuel also spent much of his time in his other favorite spaces, including the garage, basement, and kitchen, where he incessantly “flipped” channels to watch his favorite television entertainment, including ¡Sabado Gigante! (when it aired), Cantinflas movies, Jeopardy, fútbol and tennis, Wheel of Fortune and other game shows, Antiques Roadshow and all things WTTW, Everybody Loves Raymond, the weather with Tom Skilling on WGN, Law & Order, and, more recently and in keeping with his love and fascination of the “very paranormal”, the Travel Channel.
Although he had been retired since 2013, Manuel lived up to his regimented, Capricorn nature by insisting on an inflexible daily routine. He had to be up by 8:30am, or the day was ruined. But if all went according to plan, at 10am, he would have his “emoat” (oatmeal) for breakfast while watching The View in the kitchen. At 11am, he would retreat to the living room, where he would watch NBC 5 Chicago’s midmorning news, featuring meteorologist Iisha Scott because “she is the BEST—if she says it’s going to be cold, it’s cold”. His early afternoon consisted of the first of his three (at a minimum) walks per day, doing “a million and one things” around the house, or running various errands. At 2pm, he would announce that he was “going to make apple pie and coffee”—his lunch, which consisted of neither apple pie nor coffee, but rather a very modest, minimalist, “Saint Manuel” cold cut sandwich (usually 3/4 of it), a few grapes or chips, and a cup of Lipton black tea, and he would watch anything on the Game Show Network during that hour. At 3pm, it was time for his “Dracula nap”, followed by Jeopardy 3:30pm with Coreen (and with Gina when visiting), when he always, except for one momentous occasion, lost miserably. Yet, it never diminished his desire to watch it religiously.
From 4pm-6pm, Manuel would putter around some more and take his “evening promenade” around the neighborhood. At 6pm, it would be time to light the “sconces of the mansion”, immediately followed by “traguito time” (cocktail hour) with Coreen and Gina (when she was visiting, or on speakerphone if she was at her “mansion” [read: an apartment with a long hallway]). After toasting one another with a variety of Marroquin family original toasting rituals, Manuel was ready for his reading time in what he christened “The Dakota” (formerly the guest room) for “19 minutes” with his traguito of Jack Daniels (“if you please”) or Johnny Walker (usually Red Label) and a bottle of his favorite beer, Stella Artois, which he had upgraded from Budweiser several years ago. He would come downstairs approximately 40 minutes later—not 19 minutes later—to “watch the final puzzle” on Wheel of Fortune, after which he would announce once again, “I’m going back upstairs to the Dakota to read for 19 minutes.” Manuel was always in the midst of reading several books concurrently, many of which he read multiple times, such as Dracula, any Stephen King horror novel, the longstanding series of novels by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child featuring his favorite fictional character, Aloysius X. L. Pendergast, and Carl Sagan’s The Cosmos, among many others.
When done reading, he would come downstairs, and, to Coreen’s exasperation on most nights, would declare, “I’m hungry, what are we having for dinner?” While dinner was being prepared (or en route via Grubhub from his favorite place, Taco Max), he would pass the time, back in the kitchen, flipping channels or calling his beloved sisters, Anabella and Arcely, his brother Mario, or his childhood best friend, Sergio Torres. When she was visiting, Gina would also take time to bond with her dad in the kitchen, usually over another traguito—“claro que si, ¿como que no?”—talking about things such as linguistics and grammar, geography, and Antiques Roadshow bids that he was almost always way off on. Since his compadre Adelso passed away, though, he often brought up in these moments how very much he missed his dear friend—“Oh, nena, I miss my friend Adelso”, to which Gina would do her best to comfort him by saying, “I know, Dad—me too. It’s just not the same without him.” How sad to know that same, empty, lonely, dreadful feeling would be on our collective doorstep mere months later.
After dinner, he would do his final chores of the evening and take his nighttime walk. Back home for the night, he would more often than not ask for the dessert that he said he didn’t want before going on his final walk of the night—“Is there cake?!” And when there was, he would eat it with gusto. Manuel would then finally make his way upstairs for the night, but not before he’d ask Coreen, “Mother, do you want me to take up your Nook?”, which implied her Samsung reading tablet (not a Nook), her purse, and her water tumbler. He’d make the trip up, and then back down for his stuff, when he in recent months would forgetfully ask, “Did I take up your Nook?”, to which Mom would say, “Yes, honey, you just did.” “Oh, okay, just AXSKING!”
He would then make his final trip up the stairs, which he would often accompany with quoting his favorite line of what was likely his favorite horror movie, The Exorcist, “Mrs. MacNeil, have you ever heard of exorcism?” to the bedroom with his glass of milk (because he couldn’t go to bed without his milk, because “milk is the best”) or a newly opened Stella that he would rarely finish and read a chapter from one of his several favorite Guatemalan anthology books, La Calle Donde Tu Vives (The Street Where You Live). When it was time to turn off the light, after the chapter got “too scary” to finish, Manuel and Coreen (and Gina, when staying the night), would do their nightly blessing that they had done ever since Gina was born, and he would conclude his day with saying, “Good night, shut up!” while putting on his “tunnel” (a bandana he used as a sleep mask), and would fall asleep in 30 seconds flat—how lucky for him! And he’d get up the next day and start his routine all over again.
That’s exactly how he spent his last day with us. His very last request on this existential plane was for his darling wife to lay an extra blanket, one that our dear family friend, Sophie, bought Coreen for Christmas a year or two prior, on him to cover his knees that were always so cold, especially in his last year. Once all snuggled up and ready to fall into what would be his final sleep, his eternal Dracula nap, Manuel uttered his final words: “Oh, that’s so nice and warm.” We’re beyond shattered that he’s gone, and it may take the rest of our lives for that reality to truly sink in. And yet, it’s a gift that when he was called to the great beyond, wherever that may be, it was at the end of another “very eclectic day”—at home and at peace with his family.
There are truly endless stories that we could tell about him, including years of celebratory New Year’s Eve parties with Gina’s friends—Coreen and Manuel’s “sweetie girls” and “sweetie boys”—but as he would say at this very moment, “blahhhh-di-blah-di blah-blah-blah”, and he’s right, we need to end it at some point. But his spirit will live on for as long as the “anecdotes” live on, which we hope and believe will be told and retold in perpetuity for the rest of our lives, as well as those of the rest of his family and dear friends. And so, we close out by saying what our one-of-a-kind Manuel—Zorro, Clark Kent, Pendergast, Smith (whoever Smith was), Batman, Dracula, and countless other assumed character names—always said when saying goodbye to folks: Stay off the trees—ciao!