Marvin M. Mitchel, father, son, husband, flaneur was known as a dreamer. Born to Morris and Marty Mitchels in a tiny one room dugout just outside Little Chute, he quickly learned to fend for himself. Even though he was the youngest, he fled the comfort of his family home before any of his numerous brothers and sisters.
Evading many a brush with death, he wandered the countryside, eventually finding his way to Appleton. There, he lived hand to mouth and roamed the alleys. He was particularly fond of City Park and spent much of his time there eavesdropping on a group of wayward bohemians. Soon he had a family but that didn't stop him from wondering, musing, questioning, scrambling for his life when need be. Where others his same age established habits and followed the norm, Mr. Mitchels was always searching for something, though he never knew exactly what.
When he went missing, family members did little to try to find him. Soon he was forgotten. Whether or not he found what he was looking for, we will never know. "Life," Mr. Mitchels was fond of saying, "provides so few answers. Perhaps death provides them all."
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