Mark: Idol, Hero

I read the name of a guy from my youth the other day. We’ll call him Mark C for this blog. Mark C was my idol as a kid. I am guessing he must be close to 50 now? He was huge then and probably still is. Huge shoulders, tall and thick like a lumber jack. He was probably twice my size but in grade school, I probably didn’t notice the size difference. He was just like a big brother to me. His wife (then future wife) Carol and her family lived in my neighborhood growing up, and Mark and his family went to my church, I think his mom still does, I really don’t. I used to tag along behind Mark at church, he'd help me out here and there. We'd play basketball and he was always involved with my youth group stuff. I used to dress like him when I could. He and Carol actually stayed with us for a week or two when my mom and dad went on vacation. I haven't spoken to him in a very long time. I lost touch with Mark around the ninth grade. We'd run into each other from time to time over the next ten years or so. His mom and dad were the youth group leaders when our youth group went to Denver in about 1985. I knew his brother David a little. His parents were terrific people. When his dad Ken died I wrote a handwritten letter to Joanne telling her how wonderful I’d thought Ken was and that I felt the same way about her and that it was time to remember what a good life Ken had led. And even though I don't see any of them anymore, they've all had an impact on my life.

My mom told me over the weekend that one of the boys from that youth group, a boy named Steve, died a week or so ago, and Joanne went and spoke at the funeral. This kid Steve was my roommate on our Denver trip, and Joanne mentioned that trip at his funeral and all of us in her speech. The odd thing for me, is that I’ve thought about Mark dozens of times and hadn’t thought about Steve once in all these years. Steve was about my age, Mark was not. Steve was a crazy dude, Mark was not. Steve and I snuck cigarettes behind the church and Mark did not, but I’m pretty sure he would’ve killed me if he’d caught us. So Mark was my hero, my idol, ten years older than me. And Steve was my friend my accomplice, my same age. Steve and I had Catechism together and were Confirmed together. Mark and I had fun together; Steve and I had some adventures in trouble together. I have no idea what any of this means. It’s sad though, that I’m much more interested in the idea of looking up Mark and having a beer with him, after all these years, than I am of grieving about a guy I ran with a few times in Junior High School. That’s not to say that I take Steve’s death lightly, because I don’t. But the heroes that we have as children will always be our heroes. And in this world, in this day and age, it’s good to know that your heroes have survived in spite of it all.

I wonder how I’d call him up. I wonder how it would sound, “hey Mark, this is Joe, I know we haven’t’ spoken to each other in a couple of DECADES, but I was thinking about you randomly, and I was wondering, and don’t take this the wrong way, but would you like to go have a beer?” Yeah, that’s it. That sounds great. And then he changes his number and goes on an abrupt vacation for the next couple weeks. Maybe I’ll just leave him be and see if fate runs us by each other one more time. That might be a bit more poetic. And in the end, a heroes’ legend won’t be tainted by an awkward phone call and I will be spared the embarrassment of stammering through that awkward phone call. I kinda feel better just having thought about this for a while, almost as if Mark and I did catch up. But if you ask me, in a rare, non-cynical moment, I’ll tell you straight up: I’m rooting for fate.