I Learn of the Death of a Former Comrade and Share Regrets

Mark was a singer too. Photo courtesy of the N&R

Another lesson learned too late.

When I knew Mark McKinnon he was in his mid and late twenties. Mark was six feet five inches tall, muscular and looked even bigger with his long blonde hair and beard. His body was not sculpted like a body builder but lean and hard. We were writers for the Wildcat, the student newspaper at Chico State University. Mark was a few years older than me and a couple of decades wiser. He was always, kind, generous and thoughtful and had robust sense of humor. Like most of us in that time and place he had a fondness for getting high but he was generally able to show restraint and I never saw him wasted.

I believe Mark had been a baseball star in high school. I saw him hit monster home runs in softball games. He could have been physically imposing but that wasn’t his style. He was too nice a bloke. Befitting his size he had a deep rich voice that would have been good for voice over work or narration.

On hot days Mark generally went shirtless and wore shorts. He couldn't very blend into a crowd.

For a time Mark ran the Associated Students film series. This was back in the days before streaming, DVDs or even VCRs. If you wanted to watch an old film you had to wait for it to show up on television, where it would be constantly interrupted by commercials. You couldn’t record anything then so whenever it was on was when you watched it. The AS film series would allow you to see a classic film or two every weekend sans commercials. My wife and my first movie date was to see The Thin Man at the series. Anyway Mark was a classic film buff — rather a necessity for the job. He would write a preview for whatever film he was showing in the Wildcat. One weekend he had Duck Soup. Knowing I was a Marx Brothers aficionado, he let me do a guest write-up.

Mark and I were at the Wildcat went it went into negotiations to go independent, free from the strictures of the university. This was in the shadow of the Sixties and there was still an air of rebelliousness on college campuses. Coming from Berkeley and being a veteran of campus riots (I suppose I earned a purple heart for having been tear gassed) I was all about sticking it to the man but more than that people like Mark and myself were idealists who saw the desperate need for the community to have an independent newspaper, that unlike the town's daily, told some hard truths and did some series digging.

Along with a dozen or so others, Mark and I were co-founders of the Chico News & Review which is still extant today. Those were heady times and I had great affection for most of my comrades, Mark and Bob Speer in particular. They were like big brothers to me and I doubt either ever had any idea how influential they were in my life or how much I admired them. I remember Bob (who ultimately served on the N&R for decades) with great admiration and affection. Both Bob and Mark were quintessentially nice people. They were never snarky, only gently teased and were always thoughtful. 

The biggest regret of my life — which still pains me today — was leaving the N&R after two years to take a position with the Cal State Students Association. It was a job I was ill-suited for and sent me into a spiral of excess drug and alcohol use and wandering the country taking menial jobs only righting myself six years later.

By then I’d lost touch with everyone at the N&R, including Mark. I probably last saw him in 1979. I googled him once a few years ago and saw that he was teaching at Butte College (just as I was — and still am — a teacher). I meant to write to him but put it off. That was a big mistake. I googled Mark again his morning already mentally composing an email to him. But before I could find an email address I saw his obituary. He’d died six weeks ago at 71 of cancer. Among his survivors was his wife Wendy who I remember Mark dating.

As obituaries do, it highlighted what a marvelous person he was.  But there were no embellishments or exaggerations, you could tell that he was genuinely loved. I’m sorry that I never saw him in the past forty plus years and sorrier yet that I didn’t email him after googling him. I could have told Mark how fondly I remembered him and what a sweet and positive impact he’d had on me. I wish I’d gotten to know Mark better and I wish I’d met more people like him in my life. I would have liked to update him on my life -- I know he would have been interested -- and heard more about his. 

If you’re thinking of contacting someone you haven’t heard from in a long time, don’t hesitate.  Don’t think you might be bothering them. Don’t think it’s not a good time. Don’t think they might not remember you so fondly. Don’t think. Just bloody well do it. You'd hate to reach a day when it was too late and you were saddled with a regret. Trust me on this one.