Remembering Mark
We're getting close to the time of year when Trevor called to tell us about Mark. It was November 12, actually. I was meeting with students in my office in the evening. Neil was teaching in Gorham. I called him with the bad news. Silence.
The truth is, I never knew Mark very well. I knew Mark through other people - Neil, Trevor, and Neil's colleagues. Mark visited Neil and me at our home in Saco on occasion. Between these visits and the stories I heard, Mark made a tremendous impression on me.
Mark was larger than life. He was a fantastically talented oboist. Mark was driven in a way that caused most people to take pause. He was incredibly demanding of his students and even more demanding of himself. He poured himself into his work in a way that would crush most of us - solo, chamber music, teaching, administrative duties in Iowa, recordings, auditions ("just to stay fresh"), festivals, music camps, and the like. His productivity knew no limits. I'm a highly productive person; Mark, however, put me to shame.
Neil was Mark's first oboe teacher. Mark was Trevor's oboe teacher in college. Kathy and I visited Trevor at the University of Iowa in the fall of 1989 when Kathy was taking auditions on horn at three Midwestern universities. That was the first time that I met Mark. He was a constant jokster; a master of puns. I think that he made these jokes more for himself than anyone else; few could keep up with his pace of delivery. By the time I figured out one play on words, he had made 3 more. Neil still wears a t-shirt that he got at Mark's 1997 Oct-Oboe Fest in Iowa called "Late Night in the Oboe Studio;" it lists all of the things that oboists would like to believe about themselves, their reeds, and profession.
It's been four years since Trevor called with the news. This time there was no prank. Mark was gone.
One nice thing about a musician's recordings is that long after the individual is gone, the performances live on. It's not surprising that Mark's recordings sound full of life and vigor. It's a wonderful way to remember him. In fact, it's the best way I have found yet.
The truth is, I never knew Mark very well. I knew Mark through other people - Neil, Trevor, and Neil's colleagues. Mark visited Neil and me at our home in Saco on occasion. Between these visits and the stories I heard, Mark made a tremendous impression on me.
Mark was larger than life. He was a fantastically talented oboist. Mark was driven in a way that caused most people to take pause. He was incredibly demanding of his students and even more demanding of himself. He poured himself into his work in a way that would crush most of us - solo, chamber music, teaching, administrative duties in Iowa, recordings, auditions ("just to stay fresh"), festivals, music camps, and the like. His productivity knew no limits. I'm a highly productive person; Mark, however, put me to shame.
Neil was Mark's first oboe teacher. Mark was Trevor's oboe teacher in college. Kathy and I visited Trevor at the University of Iowa in the fall of 1989 when Kathy was taking auditions on horn at three Midwestern universities. That was the first time that I met Mark. He was a constant jokster; a master of puns. I think that he made these jokes more for himself than anyone else; few could keep up with his pace of delivery. By the time I figured out one play on words, he had made 3 more. Neil still wears a t-shirt that he got at Mark's 1997 Oct-Oboe Fest in Iowa called "Late Night in the Oboe Studio;" it lists all of the things that oboists would like to believe about themselves, their reeds, and profession.
It's been four years since Trevor called with the news. This time there was no prank. Mark was gone.
One nice thing about a musician's recordings is that long after the individual is gone, the performances live on. It's not surprising that Mark's recordings sound full of life and vigor. It's a wonderful way to remember him. In fact, it's the best way I have found yet.
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| Mark - when Neil worked with him. |
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| Mark and Eleanor |
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| Mark and Ted |
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| Mark, as the man I knew. |
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| Mark, late in his life. |
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| Mark as the constant jokster. |
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| Mark, making the "ultimate sacrifice" in Iowa, 1989. |
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| A great way to remember Mark -- the man, oboist, and teacher, Iowa, 1989. |
Wonderful words and pictures! I had lost those last two.....I think I took those pics!
ReplyDeleteYou're right, Trevor. I got those pics from you.
ReplyDeleteGreat story, Emily.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Emily, for remembering a re'mark'able man, colleague, but most of all, cherished and dearly-loved friend.
ReplyDeleteNo one can take his place. Thanks for remembering him.
ReplyDelete