Remember Cory - The Cory Shcolnik Memorial

Date Added: 9/25/2003
Happy Birthday Cory

Cory, I was spending time last night looking through some of your personal things. I was reading a printout of your Personality Analysis, something you did at the State Fair in October 1997, just before you were murdered. I guess it was one of those electronic handwriting analysis, nothing you would take real seriously, just for fun. I couldn't help but be struck at how accurate some of the traits were. It read like this: Libra, The Scales of Justice. You revel in sparkling company which revives and inspires you. Stop, Look and Listen should be your daily motto. You have big plans and expensive tastes. Your self confidence is evident in your decisions. Quite talkative, you are witty and bright and enjoy social activities. There is nothing half hearted about you. Your enthusiam for new things gives you much satisfaction. Charming , clever and gracious, a Libra is the social butterfly of the zodiac. Your excellent communicative abilities combined with your warm nature, give you a gift for close relationships of all kinds, from family and friends to business associates. As indicated by your astrological symbol, the scales, you have an inborn sense of fairness that makes you a skilled diplomat. You are also attracted to worthy social causes, a lover of beauty and harmony, you are likely to have a flair for fashion, decorating and art. Your worst flaw is what makes you so sweet, your desire to be gracious and kind can result in a inability to confront others.
Those that know you can tesity to all of those traits being true. I enjoyed reading it and just wanted to share that.
Mom

Date Added: 4/6/2003
The Balloon

One of the things that helps me cope with the loss of Cory, is that I feel he is always with me and there are times
when he reassures me of his presence. Over the past five years there have been many instances in which
circumstances surrounding Cory would seem to be more that a coincidence.

This past December 7, I participated in a balloon release called Angel Flight 2002. The event was for relatives and
friends to remember loved ones who died by homicide or violent crime. I chose six colorful balloons and placed a
message inside each saying that the balloon was in loving memory of my son, Cory Shcolnik. I included a bit
information and my name. The balloons were released from the Flight Deck parking lot in Lexington, SC.

On February 21, 2003, I received an e-mail inquiring if I were Cory's mom. Sarah, who lives outside of Lexington,
had found a balloon in the woods of her yard. It had been there for weeks but no one had bothered to pick it up.
When she did pick it up, she found the note, which was wet and not readable, but she was able to make out Cory and
Baxley and with that she did a web search and found Cory's story. She remembered reading about the murders in the
newspaper at the time it happened.

Strangely, just days before picking up the balloon, Sarah had been thinking about a way to mark the upcoming first
anniversary of her own son's death. Her only child, Edward Swails, 32 years old, was killed in a motorcycle accident
on April 7, 2002. His friend, Chris, also died with him. Sarah had been contemplating doing a balloon release as part
of her memorial for Edward. When she picked up Cory's balloon and realized there was a message, she felt as if the
balloon was meant for her to find. Realizing how Cory had touched her life with the balloon, she knew it would be a
good way to memorialize Edward too.

By corresponding several times with Sarah, we've shared some of our feelings and thoughts about losing a child, and
the painful and difficult journey our lives have taken. We found we also have a mutual friend, Joan Wise, who also
lost her daughter to homicide.

Through the American Red Cross, Sarah was able donate Edward's tissue and bones to as many as fifty recipients.
That was a wonderful way to keep Edward's presence here with us on Earth and for his life to continue to impact
others in a positive way.

Sarah planned to mark the first anniversary by gathering with family and friends and participating in the Lake Murray
Dam Walk on April 5 as a remembrance of how Edward loved the lake. Then they would go to the site of the
accident and release balloons with notes inside for Edward. Hopefully Edward's balloons will touch someone's life
as Cory's balloon touched hers.

Date Added: 2/8/2003
Dear Son

Dear Son,
How do I begin to tell you how much I love you and how much it hurts to have you taken from us in this way. I have eighteen years packed with special memories that I would love to share and will try to do that with this site. I'll start with some of the more recent memories, like the last day you spent on this earth. It was really a very nice day and I'm thankful for that. You went to work at Gadzooks early and got off that
afternoon at 4:00. When you got home, you went to your room and started playing your guitar. I was upstairs with Eric and I could hear you loud and clear. You were playing a little louder than usual but I didn't say anything because I remember thinking that you sounded really great as you played a Beatles'
song, “I Want You”. I was enjoying hearing you play. We planned to go out to dinner at The Olive Garden with some family and you were going with us. You had on new jeans, a new brown sweater and I'm sure you felt good. You really enjoyed getting new clothes. I was so proud and happy to have my family out together. Eric was three months old. While we waited for our table, you and I were talking about your work and you told me the store had just gotten in a new music video.
One of the songs on it was Adam Sandler playing “The Thanksgiving Song”. We had watched it on Saturday Night Live and thought it was hilarious. You started singing the
song to me...”turkey for you, turkey for me...” You made me laugh and I loved it. For dinner you enjoyed eggplant parmigiana, salad, bread sticks and Sprite. You left the restaurant at 9:00 to pick Jamie up from work, and I told you to be careful. That was the last time I saw you.
Just days before, you helped me take the trash off. We drove Louie's 4-Runner
and took Eric with us. You commented that you thought the car was awesome. On the way, we talked about Christmas presents and what you planned to buy for everyone. You asked me what I wanted and I told you to pick me out a cd. You said that wasn't good enough. You said you had no idea what to buy Jamie. I suggested something that would be a keepsake, but you were thinking clothes.
That last week you worked a concert at the coliseum. You helped set up the stage for The Wallflowers and then ushered, so it was an all day job but you were real excited about it. You had a backstage pass too.
While I was expecting Eric, you would call home from work to check on me to see if I had gone to the hospital yet. When he was born, you were there at the hospital, waiting for his delivery. I remember you came in the room as I was holding him, just born, and I gave you a hug and kiss and told you I loved you. Thank you for being there for both of us. The next day you came by the hospital
to visit before you went to work.
When Louie and I were trying to get ready for our wedding, there was so much to do at the house and in the yard and you pitched in and helped so much. I really could never have been ready without all of your help.
I miss you so much when I see other kids or young people your age out shopping, playing music, hanging out at the beach and spending time with their families. I look for you in their eyes and imagine what it would be like with you here. You enjoyed going shopping and I can't walk through any store without wishing you were there and wishing I had you to buy special things for. Your boss
at Gadzooks told me that you really loved unpacking shipments at the store. He said you were like a kid at Christmas, unwrapping presents. Birthdays and Christmas and other special occasions are really hard when I want so badly to be able to give you things. Now, I try to find special little things to take to your grave.
You had an accident in you car during a driving rain storm. For three weeks you had
to drive my old Mazda pickup truck. One night after you got off work, you had a flat tire in the parking lot. You tried to change to the spare tire, but it had never been used and was rusted in place under the truck. It wouldn't budge. Louie and I were not home when you called, so you called your grandmother. You asked her if she knew how to change a flat tire. Louie got home just in time to go help you fix it. You were so thankful to get your own car back from the shop.
The first thing I would look for when I pulled in the driveway was to see if your car was home. If it was, knew you were safe and sound. At night I would lie in bed and listen for you to get home from work. What a good feeling it was to hear your car pull in. I listened for that sound for a long time after you were gone. I wanted so badly to hear it one more time.
You were always good to call home if you were going to be late or if there was a change of plans. If I was out, the first thing I would do when I came home would be to see if you had called. On Mother's Day the first year you were gone, the phone rang and no one answered. Caller ID said the call was from out-of-area. I like to think it was you.
I was so proud of your musical talents. You had worked hard there too, starting with piano, then cello, saxophone, guitar and bass guitar. Your grandmother started you with piano lessons, then
the district orchestra after school, and lessons at McMaster (USC), marching band at Airport HS, and where you really excelled, on guitar. Even though you were left handed, you had learned to play guitar right handed. Being left handed was something you were proud of. It made you a little different and we use to joke that all famous people are left handed. I always thought you would be famous. Louie liked it that you were left handed because he
is too. You would come out of your room from practicing while I was cooking dinner and play for me the latest song you had been working on. Thank you for sharing those things with me. I loved having you home for dinner. Up until you started college, we had family (you, Louie, and me) dinners together almost every night. You really appreciated food and loved almost everything, especially vegetables. You would always have to sample what ever I happened to be cutting up at the time. Sometimes we would watch Wheel of Fortune during dinner and have fun seeing who could guess the answers first. We also talked about our day during dinner. Family dinners just aren't the same any more.
Of course you loved junk food too. Some of your favorites were Taco Bell, McDonalds, and Burger King. Sometimes I would stop at Burger King after I picked you up from school to buy you an early dinner, Whopper, fries and a large Dr. Pepper.
I will always remember hearing you laugh out loud from you room as you watched your favorite TV shows, Friends, Seinfeld, The Simpsons, and Saturday Night Live. We had so many goofy laughs talking about SNL skits such as Goat Boy, Celebrity Jeopardy, Hanz and Franz and on and on. When you were little, some of your favorites were Knight Rider, Alf, Mork and Mindy, and PeeWee's Playhouse.
You loved movies too, like Wayne's World, Home Alone, Steve Martin movies and your favorite of all time, Star Wars. You bought the Special Edition video set of Star Wars, Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi.
You also enjoyed the more educational programs on nature and history and music. You had a thirst for knowledge. You loved books too and read often.
All of the things in you room are so special. I will save them for Eric. I saved many of your childhood clothes and toys and I now appreciate watching Eric use them. You loved He-man, Transformers, and your Spiderman Big Wheel. Then you grew to love comic books, Spider Man was your favorite. There are several big boxes in you closet filled with your favorite and special edition comics. When he is old enough, Eric will love them. There are also sketch books I use to buy you at Christmas that have many little drawings that you did over the years. All of these things help bring back memories of your childhood that might have been lost.
Raking leaves is something we use to do together, working hard all afternoon, then piling them into the old truck to haul to the back to make a huge pile. You and Louie would see who could jump the tallest or longest pile. Now the fallen leaves remind me of what the cemetery looked like on the day of your funeral. There were still a few yellow leaves on the maple tree near by that kept it
from looking so bare. It was a beautiful, mild, sunny Fall day, but my sorrow overshadowed it. I've come to realize that you are with me all the time now, and everything I do is with you in mind. I try to see the world through your eyes.
There are many more stories and thoughts yet to come. Just know I love you Cory.
Forever--Mom
________________________________________________________________

Date Added: 2/8/2003
Grandmother's Letter

Cory, My Special One,
My biggest enjoyment in life was watching you and your cousin, Jody, and now your little brother, Eric, grow up. I was accused by my father of thinking you were the only grandsons in the world - To me you were!
We bonded so closely. You shared so many little things with me; which to you were bigger than the world itself. For instance your first little girl friend and her love notes - You even had me looking for unicorns for her. You gave me the first drawing (Lion and Flowers) for which you won a blue ribbon. It hangs in my bedroom.
There are so many happy memories stored in my treasure chest of you. When you were three, I saw you and your grandfather having a man-to-man talk. The next day you were throwing rocks, first left handed, then right handed. I asked what you were doing, you replied, “I'm trying to learn to be amby dexter (ambidextrous).” I asked where you learned such a big word, you answered, “It's in the bitchonary.”
You loved to come and visit, but wanted to make sure your mom picked you up at night. It would take both your
grandad and myself to get you in your pajamas. Once, you wouldn't stop crying.
I thought I would try a little reverse psychology on you. I told you if you didn't hush, I was going to my room. You wouldn't stop, so I closed my door, only to hear the patter of little feet running down the hall. As you neared the door, I heard a muffled sound, then a demanding voice say, “Come out of
there right now!” When I opened the door, you crawled upon the bed. I began to tell you stories of little things your mother tried to pull on me when she was your age. You laughed and said, “Now tell me what my dad got into
when he was little.” When you would grow tired of waiting, you would imagine you heard a car. I would say, “I don't think so.” You would say, “Uh-huh, sounds like a red Toyota to me.”
Once we had a big ice storm. I raced you down the yard slope using broiler pans. You always won, until I reached out and grabbed you as you passed, only to have you accuse me of not cheating fair.
When you and Jody were four, you were ready for a tree house, a three-way project. We labored hard. The boards were large, so you figured out togetherness was the answer. We found three trees to build around. After
I started the nail, you both would hammer to the finish. After the flooring, we put up rails, a small ladder and an escape board to slide down. I'm sure Frank Lloyd Wright never felt more pride than you guys. You couldn't wait to show your grandad. He told you he would build you a good treehouse on the
weekend. Two small, but loud voices echoed in unison, “We don't want a good one. We like the one grandma helped us build.” Lots of happy times and lunches were enjoyed in that little tree haven five feet off the ground.
Sometimes you were too much for the inside. Once I talked you in to playing “Houdini” . I grabbed my trusty rope and put forth my best granny knots only to have you both escape in minutes. Then you insisted it was my turn to face the tree squad. Try as I may, I couldn't get loose. Without your help, I would now be a part of that tree.
You were six when your grandfather died. You were my “rock”. Always there with a big hug and full of excitement. You would ask , “Why are you always cleaning the house? No one comes over to visit but me.” As you helped me do yard work, you would make remarks like, “Most people your age would be sitting back, taking it easy. You're going to live a good, long life.”
One week before the awful tragedy, you made a little home movie for a university assignment. It consisted of three generations. Naturally, I was the eldest and the last to be taped. You laughingly explained to the viewers, “This
is my grandmother. She brought on the great depression.”
Your presence is still so real I can almost feel the earth move as you once and often came running from your house to mine. Sometimes just for fun games or a fast game of badminton or if you needed to go some place, “right now”. You would ask me to drive you and your friend Joseph to a movie. When I
opened my van door, children came out of the woodwork. I remember smiling to and fro as I listened to you tease each other, never once loosing your cool.
One of the last laughs we had was when you conned (not really) me into getting tickets for the opening day premiere of the re-release of Star Wars. It was cold and raining, but I braved the long ticket line, only to realize I was the only old person in line. I had to hide as the TV news camera came by. I knew they would ask what I was doing there. Anyway, you and your friends got tickets. You described the movie as "awesome".
The word awesome also describes the type of grandson that you were. All I have left are special and loving memories. Somehow that must be enough to sustain me until I can see you again. I never missed a chance to tell you “you are special”.
As I watch your little brother, Eric, I try to see you in his mannerisms and as I hold him, I feel your love through him. My heart skips a few beats as I remember another very special little guy, all the way through age eighteen.
The last time I saw you, you and your mom and Eric came by. As I held Eric, I referred to him as my little monkey. You quickly reminded me that was your title. I told you that you were my big monkey now. One last smile, you were gone - but never forgotten.
Eternal Love, Grams - Ersie Vasseur

P.S. I can still hear your little voice at one and a half years saying, “Ma-ga, I hold you.”

Date Added: 2/8/2003
New Year's Memory

New Year's Eve 1994--Cory was 15 years old. Louie and I and a couple of his sister's took a trip to Nashville for a few days to visit their brother who was in the hospital with a serious condition. I agreed to let Cory stay home on his own at that age because I knew my Mom, Cory's Grandmother, was right next door and he would have plenty to eat, transportation if he needed it and a place to go if he did not want to stay at home alone. He wasn't supposed to have any company at the house alone but he could visit his friends that lived nearby. I called home on New Year's Eve about 11:00 pm to see how Cory was doing and to wish him a happy new year. To my surprise, Cory's friend, Joseph, answered the phone and when I asked where Cory was, he told me he was outside with Jarrett shooting fireworks off of the back porch. I couldn't beleive it but guess I shouldn't have been surprised. I told them to just be sure to pick up all of the trash that they made. At least they were safe at home.
Entering a new year is still a hard thing for me since Cory's murder. 1997 was a year that, despite all of the tragedy that had happened, at least it had been a year that included Cory. The next year would be a year without him and each year after that would be filled with only memories. The turn of the millinium was especilly hard too because I wanted Cory to be a part of all the excitement everyone else was feeling. And so I try to carry Cory's spirit and light into the new year and share the memories that I have.

Happy New Year Cory!