Service, sacrifice, love and growth are all seen, felt and experienced but never touched or held. This is a story about each. A story of a daughter who finds purpose through the legacy of a father she never knew — two Tigers, generations apart, connected by creativity, tradition and an enduring love for Clemson University. Their story is one of healing, growth and a shared pursuit of something great.
Before Hope Stubenhofer ’27 could understand its significance, her father’s story was shaping hers. As a baby, she heard his voice over the phone from halfway around the world. As a young girl, she listened to her mother’s careful recollections of a brave man she never met. And now, as a Clemson University performing arts major, she tells his story through the language of movement — with each dance a tribute to the father who left behind a legacy of service, sacrifice and love.
Hope’s father, Capt. Mark Stubenhofer ’96, graduated from Clemson and went on to serve with distinction in the U.S. Army. In December 2004, while serving in Iraq, Mark was killed in action — a sacrifice Hope would only fully comprehend years later.
“I never met him,” Hope shares. “But I have a photo of me as a baby on a phone call with him from the hospital. So, I know I heard his voice. I just don’t remember it.”
Growing up, her mother, Patty Stubenhofer ’96, carefully navigated how and when to share pieces of Mark’s story with Hope and her two older siblings. “She always made sure we knew he was a good man, and that he did it for us,” Hope says. “But the details, I didn’t know them fully until my freshman year of college.”
It was through a writing assignment on personal heroes while attending Clemson that Hope decided she was ready to know more. “I called my mom and asked her to tell me everything,” she recalls. “The conversation was difficult but life-changing. I’m glad I waited until I was older to learn it all. I could actually process my father’s death — and the full extent of his sacrifice.”
What she learned reinforced what had always been quietly clear: Mark had a deep, selfless heart. “He was a captain, and my mom told me he would let others go home before him when they were deployed so they could be with their families for the holidays,” Hope says. “It wasn’t something I really thought about as a kid, but now I realize just how much that says about him.”
Coming Home
Originally attending Virginia Tech, Hope transferred to Clemson in 2023. It was more than a change of schools. It was a homecoming.
“Whenever I thought about where home was, it was always Clemson,” she explains. “I remember coming here as a kid and feeling like this was where I belonged.”
Clemson had always been more than just a backdrop to family memories -— it was woven into the story of her father’s life and service. Annual visits for Military Appreciation games, childhood walks past the Scroll of Honor Memorial, and her older sister Lauren Stubenhofer’s graduation in 2022 only deepened that connection.
“The first full day after moving into my dorm, I visited the Scroll of Honor,” she says. “I just sat there and cried. It was overwhelming, but in a way, I felt like a piece of him was here.”
Located just across the street from Howard’s Rock — where Clemson Football players run down the Hill into Memorial Stadium — sits a quiet, sacred space. The Scroll of Honor Memorial is a place not of roaring crowds but of reverent stillness, honoring those who gave everything so that others could live in freedom.
For Hope, this memorial isn’t abstract; it’s personal. Her father’s name and class year — Mark N. Stubenhofer 1996 — are engraved into one of those stones. Hope remembers walking by the memorial with her family as a child during Military Appreciation weekends. Back then, she knew her father’s name was important but not yet why.
“My mom always said she knew I would end up here eventually,” Hope laughs. “And she was right.”
No longer the young girl she was on those early visits, she now returns with a deeper, more personal understanding — one shaped by age, growth and the emotional insight she’s gained through time, experience and grief. Where she once saw a name in stone, she now sees a legacy. A life. A father. A sacrifice.
“Recently, at an event honoring my dad, someone came up to me who had just graduated from Clemson and was in the ROTC program,” she recalls. “He told me they still talk about my dad’s legacy in one of their classes. It’s been 30 years since he graduated, and they’re still talking about him. That’s pretty incredible.”
For Hope, it’s not just a marker of where her father’s name is engraved. It’s a space that helps her feel close to him — and in many ways, one that helps guide her forward.
Growing Through Art
Hope’s emotional journey is inseparable from her creative one. Whether on stage or in the studio, art has become the way she processes loss and channels love.
“Dance has always been how I process things,” she says. “When I’m performing, especially to a sad song, I can just let everything out.”
She’s the first to admit she’s never been the most technical dancer. “My family used to joke that I had ‘noodle arms,’” she says with a laugh. “But I didn’t care. I just loved it.”
That freedom of expression is what kept her grounded, even during times when she felt discouraged. “There was a point I wanted to quit — not because I didn’t love dancing but because I didn’t like the way my studio focused only on who was the best,” she says. “But what mattered most to me was how it made me feel. I loved it too much to stop.”
Hope has since added a dance minor to her performing arts major, and she’s fallen in love with theater for the same reason: It’s all about emotion, honesty and connection.
That passion led her to join the Clemson Players, a student organization dedicated to building a vibrant theatrical community on campus. Open to all majors and areas of interest — from acting and directing to design and backstage work — the Clemson Players have given Hope a creative home at Clemson.
Recently, she appeared in the Players’ production of The Wolves by Sarah DeLappe, directed by Professor Becky Becker. Set on the sidelines of a girls’ indoor soccer team, the play follows nine young women as they stretch, warm up and grapple with the complexities of adolescence, friendship, identity and ambition.
“I thought it was such an interesting concept,” Hope says. “It was really rewarding to be part of a production that focused so much on the small, real moments of growing up and how those experiences shape who we become.”
“Everyone has something that fills their cup,” she adds. “For me, it’s this.”
Hope also paints, a passion that’s become another way of channeling her grief into something beautiful. Last fall, as part of a class project, she painted a large black-and-white portrait of her parents and gave it to her mom as a Christmas gift. “It was for the 20th anniversary,” she says, referencing her father’s passing. “There were definitely a few tears on the canvas.”
It was the first time she had painted people, and the process felt high stakes but healing. “It made me feel closer to him,” she says. “I started noticing more details about him as I painted. It was like I was spending time with him again.”
Honoring a Clemson Hero
In December 2024, the Clemson Family gathered at Arlington National Cemetery to commemorate the 20th anniversary of Mark’s passing. The ceremony brought Hope, Patty and family members together with Clemson alumni, students and University leadership.
Retired U.S. Air Force Gen. John W. “Jay” Raymond ’84, Clemson’s highest-ranking military alumnus, and Dean Wendy York of the Wilbur O. and Ann Powers College of Business, which houses the Department of Military Leadership and Clemson Army ROTC, delivered remarks honoring Mark’s courage, leadership and legacy.
“The sense of honor and true Clemson spirit I felt that day — standing at Arlington to remember Capt. Stubenhofer and all Clemson alumni buried there — was one of the greatest privileges of my career,” said York. “It was a powerful moment of unity for our Clemson Family.”
Mark, who came to Clemson from Springfield, Virginia, joined ROTC as a sophomore and quickly earned a reputation as a leader and mentor within the Clemson Corps. He met his wife, Patty, during his senior year, and together they began building a life grounded in family, service and humility.
He earned the Bronze Star for exceptional leadership during his first tour in Iraq. On his second tour, while leading a patrol in Baghdad, he was killed by small-arms fire. For his heroism, he was posthumously awarded the Purple Heart.
“Mark was a great patriot who always put his country above himself,” said one of his Clemson classmates. “He had a profound sense of duty and was deeply committed to making the world a better place.”
Following the ceremony, attendees dispersed throughout Arlington to pay individual respects at the gravesites of 31 other Clemson alumni interred there. Names were read, hands were placed gently on stones and stories were quietly shared, each a reminder of the collective legacy Clemson carries in its military roots.
The day concluded with a solemn wreath-laying at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, a time-honored tradition symbolizing the sacrifices of service members whose identities remain unknown. The Clemson wreath — adorned with orange and white roses and tied with a large purple bow — carried a message that echoed across generations: “Honoring Our Clemson University Fallen.”
The colors were no accident. Orange and white paid tribute to Clemson’s spirit. The purple bow represented unity, honoring all branches of service. In military tradition, purple is the color of joint strength, blending Army green, Marine red, and Navy, Air Force, and Coast Guard blue into one solemn symbol of sacrifice.
A Quiet Strength
Through grief, Hope has found purpose. Through art, she’s found healing. And through Clemson, she’s found her way home.
“My mom always clung to me, and I clung to her,” Hope reflects. “But now, being here, I feel like I’m learning to stand on my own, too.”
She carries her father’s legacy not just in the stories and ceremonies but in every performance, every brushstroke and every step forward.
“When I dance,” she says, “it’s like I can feel him with me.”
The Scroll of Honor
Built by the Clemson Corps and dedicated in 2010, the Scroll of Honor memorializes alumni who gave their lives in service to the United States. Every element of its design is rich with meaning. The circular barrow represents timeless values: duty, honor, country. The unfinished stone markers reflect both the individuality of the fallen and the chaos of combat; their random arrangement mirrors the way lives are lost in war.
Only names and class years are engraved, bound not by rank or branch but by a shared Clemson bond. The stones are angled so visitors must bow their heads to read them. Even the surrounding trees lean toward the memorial as if paying homage. Above the circle, the sky opens, offering a quiet space to look upward, remember and reflect.
Memorial Stadium itself was named in 1942 to honor “all Clemson alumni who have made the supreme sacrifice in the service of our country.” The Scroll of Honor Memorial, set just across the street, brings that promise full circle.
Mark’s story is one of many remembered there, but his is also one that continues to shape the life of a daughter who now walks the same campus paths he once did. The memorial serves not only as a tribute to the past but also as a living testament to the values that continue to define Clemson.
Jacob Chambers ’19 is the Director Of Strategic Insights in the Wilbur O. and Ann Powers College of Business.
Photography by Ashley Jones, family photographs courtesy of Hope Stubenhofer ’27.
