Howard Mark Mullis

Howard Mark Mullis, 72, passed away at his home in Greencastle on Wednesday, Feb. 3, 2021 at 3:40 in the afternoon. He was surrounded by his family.

Howard was born in Greencastle on Dec. 26, 1948 to the late Kenneth Mullis and Virginia (Denny) Mullis.

Although Howard repeatedly expressed disdain for attending school he managed to stick with it and graduate from Bainbridge High School in 1967.

Howard was a family man. He proved it daily. A dedicated and loving Dad to his four children, Stephanie (Ian) Nelson, Leslie (Robert) Helderman, Anthony (Abby) Mullis, and Elizabeth (Daren) Hodge, all surviving. He was a proud Grandpa to nine grandkids, Casin, Cole (Nelson), Kennedy, Bryson, Kaden (Helderman), Braxton (Mullis), Maci, Kaleb and Mason (Hodge).

He married twice. In 1975, he wed Deena Dearinger, the mother of his children. Together they raised their kids and, despite a divorce, remained close friends until the day he died. His second marriage was in 2001 to Cathy Adams. Although ending in divorce, they spent nearly two decades compiling memories that Howard recalled daily and would speak of with joy.

Howard was a tireless worker. A life-long farmer who never backed down. Offer him a 100-degree day and a metal-blade weedeater and he’d attack every overgrown ditch and fence line on the farm. What would bring most humans to their knees he embraced. Frequently he remarked, “I need to sweat to feel alive.”

He loved cars, trucks, tractors and tech gadgets (always on the cutting edge). He was notorious for venturing to small towns around the Midwest on day-long road trips to view farm machinery, a vehicle or a mower.

He loved Las Vegas. He felt the air was different and his breathing was easy. He could walk miles upon miles and never tire. It was not Indiana. It was not the farm.

He would scoff at turning on the radio but folks, he loved music. He appreciated the great singers. Andrea Bocelli, Whitney Houston, Celine Dion and Aaron Neville moved him to no end.

The wooden bench outside the door to his garage was his sanctuary. There he could be found watching the sun rise and fall and the traffic pass, always ready for a bull session.

He had his own unique meter for reading people’s character. Off the bat he knew if he’d appreciate your company. He had limited time and energy and wasting it on a windbag wasn’t his thing.

Howard did not wish to have a memorial service. In general, he was not a fan of social gatherings so the idea of people gawking at his made-up corpse and going on about how good he looked boiled his blood. He asked to be cremated and his ashes spread over the fields of the family farm.

His Dad, Kenneth Mullis, died when Howard was 16. Not a day passed he didn’t think of him. He longed for one more conversation. One more moment.

The consensus of his family is he finally got that moment. The moment became eternal.

Memories of Howard may be shared at www.Hopkins-Rector.com.