mark

30 years ago, i traveled with a band. yes. surprised? me - the one who can't carry a tune now. the gift taken from me in what i later saw as the most compassionate act. so this band...half of us English-speaking Americans, 1/4 English-speaking Canadians, 1/4 French-speaking or bilingual Quebecois. there were 12 of us traveling Quebec in a few vans, and an occasional fly-in on a private plane owned by the guy who organized all this...Rene, who learned English in a logging camp (mostly harsh consonant sounds), his wife & baby along for the ride...Ev, who became my best friend from Toronto & thought she spoke French til Rene advised her this was not so... Gary our driver, who gave up a summer's employment and would kidnap me to incredible locations without notice (duh, it took 6 months to realize he was "interested" in me as they say)...Eddie, his sidekick and other driver who was the ultimate prankster...and Mark. Mark. Ex-heroin addict, member of the biker gang, the Kingsmen in Buffalo NY, deep gravelly Wolfman Jack of a voice, giant bear hug of a mountain. Mark. We hung together. oh stop - like you're shocked. I remember setting up for an outdoor venue, and I walked toward the back of the park to check sound, and was surrounded quickly by 4 guys on motorcycles. Harleys to be specific. yeah, i was a little nervous. a lot. and they kept asking me something in French, which I didn't understand. so they say it slower & louder, thinking that i'd suddenly learn a new language if it was just slower & louder. then Mark came up. he didn't understand French, but he understand biker. and as it turns out, they were asking me if I'd like a Lifesaver. suddenly. so that was a joke between us. ach. not to be rude, but the anecdotes are definitely "had to be there." When we all returned to our homes, I kept in touch with Ev, traveling to visit her a few times, but lost touch with Mark. i always wondered what had become of him, though i suspected. one day a few years ago, he weighed heavy on my mind. it was distracting to the point where i had to leave my desk and take a lap around the building, offering prayers, hoping against hope that my instincts were off. i tried googling him to see if there was anything to be found, or any contact information. nothing. today, again, i thought of him for some reason as this song came through the shuffle on my iPod, and I took a break to google him again. my instincts had been correct. i wish you peace peace peace, gentle heart. your heart was good with me.