A Poem from Claudia (Mark's Mom)

Thank you, Aaron, for providing the forum for storytelling. Humanity prevails because of the connections created through such sharing.

The following is from my collection of poems titled "A Healing Place: Poems of the Goulais."

Hidden Treasure

Time is a river.
Life is…
When it seems as if change
is the only constant,
step into the middle,
look deep
beneath the surface reflection
of what is merely present.
Stand silent,
grounded,
in the rich bottom silt
where the stories are,
layer upon layer,
decade by decade.
Stories to curl toes around.
Stories to nourish
to sustain
to connect
to pass on.
For time is a river.
Life is…
exquisitely storied.

Claudia

Autumn in Canada

Once Mark and I went up to his family's cabin in Canada at the very end of autumn. We knew it would be too cold for skiing so we were basically planning on doing some fishing.

The day we arrived it was pretty much cold and rainy and we watched a couple fishing shows on TV for insipration. After that, however, we got a couple of those rare days where you know it should be getting colder and creeping ever closer to winter but it unexpectedly turns perfect. It was right at the point where the color of every leaf had changed but few had fallen (I can say that with confidence since these pictures are b&w). In the morning we got in the boat and made our way to the middle of the bay which was unusually calm.



Now, except for what appears from the distance to be a relatively small opening out into Lake Superior, the rest of the bay is enclosed by gorgeous hills and trees then plastered with the richest fall colors I can remember seeing. Have you ever listened to one of those relaxation tapes and they tell you to "imagine yourself in a beautiful, peaceful place" but you can't really think of one? Well, this was one of those places. It made me think "why do I ever go anywhere else?" I wouldn't be surprised if there has not been a day quite like that up there since. I'm also not a bit surprised that Mark would want his ashes spread there if there's even the slightest chance his spirit will follow.

Something I bet I'll never experience again was the fog that rolled in while we were out in the boat trying to decide if we should try for some fish in another spot. It was like we were in the middle of a cloud and we literally could not see five feet in front of us. If it had not lifted we would not have been able to find our way back. But, in just a few minutes it was completely gone like it had never even been there. I wish I could have talked about that with Mark one more time because there's no way I can describe it to my satisfaction.



Eventually we found a great spot to catch some Pike but they would only bite very early in the morning when you couldn't see them. During the day we could see them because the water was so calm and clear - but they were not hungry. There were some HUGE fish in there. Some easily 3 - 4 times the size of the one Mark was holding in the picture. They would just sit and stare at our lures (they liked the bright red ones) like kids watching TV.

Growing up, I went fishing many times on Lake Erie with my grandfather. I never could relate to how much of a fanatic he was about it. He and his fishing buddies getting up WAY too early and never tiring of trying a new spot when nothing was biting. Always debating about whether to try their old spots and what tackle the fish might like that particular minute.

This trip with Mark, however, made me understand. There's nothing like two friends out planning and speculating and experimenting trying to find those damned fish and the thrill when we really found them. Don't get me started on catching them! We could barely fit just one of them in the little cooler we brought never really thinking we'd catch anything (the tip of the tail was actually sticking out). A couple of those fish could have jumped out of the boat cooler and all if we hadn't been sitting on it to hold them in.

We spent most of that day out on the bay with a local friend of Mark's family, Glynn, who is also pictured. Fortunately he was around to help us clean the fish or it would have been a big mess.

I could go on more and more about this trip but I won't. These are some memories that are weighing more heavily on me now that Mark's not here to hold up his end. They're just mine now.

What will happen to them when I'm gone?

My Favorite...

Mark, how I will miss that sound. Tight, in the pocket, and always dancing. It was so easy to play with that going on. The best, however, was after. Your insight, you humor, your intelligence. I will miss you!

Tony Z

Mark Greenwood Memorial Concert

As you may (or may not) know, Steve Perakis and Rob Maccabee have been working to create a memorial concert to celebrate Mark's life. The following is the latest information about the concert:

Friends and colleagues,

Rob Maccabee has booked a date for the Memorial concert and get
together for Mark Greenwood.
It is to be on Sunday May 21, at the Columbus Music Hall, starting around 3 PM.
http://www.columbusmusichall.com/
Of course, we understand some of you are out of town or might
otherwise be unavailable to participate.
We plan to share stories, songs, photos, poetry
and food ( since the Music Hall has a full kitchen ).
Rob suggested the New Basics Brass Band and Honk Wail & Moan
to play some tunes, and we plan to have a couple small groups play
a few of Mark's jazz and pop tunes as well.
A big thanks in advance to all of you!

Steve

Rob tells me that all are invited to contribute - not just the musicians. Sharing stories, poems, thoughts, etc. - anything that would help to celebrate Mark's life. I'm going to put together a photo collage-type video to be shown at the concert, so if anyone has photos that I could scan & use in the video, I'd appreciate your help. Please email me at david@imagemagic.com if you'd like to get me any stuff you'd like to see included in the video.

It sure would be great so see everyone there. Please pass this info along to anyone who'd be interested.

ex-act-ly!

The answer is not to wish away the truth.
The answer is inside the truth.
Trying to find a way to hear the truth and for it not to hurt so bad.
The truth is not that Mark died. It is not the truth for me!
The truth is that Mark lives forever. In my heart. In my ears. In my life. In the Spring blossoms. On the river. Behind the drums. In the stories and memories of each of us who know him.
This is what Mark and I did together. We always tried to figure it out. When I would hear "ex-act-ly" I knew I was on the right track and that Mark was with me! I will continue to search for the truth- he expects no less of me. It may be easier now...his voice coming from within. I have learned to trust that voice and to act. One thing we did figure out perfectly is love. Maybe you already know the truth about love, if you don't, here it is-
Love is real.
Love lasts.
Love needs nothing more than to be.

And now as my face wants to cry, my heart shouts out - but look! Love lives on!
I hear love's voice, I see the tulips starting life all over again!

In a way no other can, Mark gently pushes each of us blessed by knowing him to be a more creative human being. All the while convincing us that we can do it. All the while reassuring us that we are pretty amazing just as we are. All the while entertaining us in so many ways- making the journey an awesome road trip!
The wildly happy days of easy life in Columbus were a gift. Mark knew it. He appreciated the time, the place and the people who filled his life there. Life with Mark was also a gift. Given for a short time, all pain hidden and only light and hope shining like the stars above the cabin on the Goulais.

Through Mark's life and with Mark's passing those of us still watching those stars are wiser. We have realized the preciousness of friendship, the miracle of love, the gift of time and the wonder of it all. Mark will be with us forever. His life has eternally changed ours. His spirit lightens our load of sorrow. His accepting laughter echoes in our ears. The purity of his love holds us and holds us together. We will not wonder what might have been. We will stand amazed at what was and forever will be.

I love you, Brother!
Alicia

Sometimes it Snows in April

Sometimes it snows in april
Sometimes I feel so bad
Sometimes I wish that life was never ending
But all good things, they say, never last
All good things they say never last

And love, it isn't love until it's past





Ah Homey,

I am so shocked, and sad to hear that you died. You had so much power and light -- I just never expected this. I am sorry we never had a chance to resolve things. Or maybe only I had issues that were unresolved? If there's one thing I learned through knowing you, it's not to make assumptions.

Sorry about the Prince lyric. I only included it because I know you would think that it's totally cheezy. I didn't include the part about going up to heaven and finding another friend, because that's not exactly the way I picture it. I can't define the imprint you've left behind, I can only ponder the meaning your life had in mine. Hey, are you channeling a song lyric to me? Can I credit you with inspiring me to get musical again?

Peace.

* * *

This is a post I drafted for my own blog right after I heard the news about Mark. Thanks, Aaron, for starting this blog and giving me a more appropriate place to publish my thoughts and share with others. It helps to fill in some of the missing pieces . . .

I also met Mark back in 1989 at Capital University. Mark was a true "guy friend." We hung out together, and since he'd dated my room mate, that seemed to clear the way for us to be "just friends."

But at times, there were some tensions. We were in the same degree program and shared many classes. We were both a little competitive. Mark was so good at everything he tried, he brought out lots of peoples' insecurities, including mine.

Back then, I didn't have the most constructive way of dealing with those insecurities. [Flashback to certain incidents involving toilet paper (which, for the record, was entirely Beth Stewart's idea!), whipped cream and a pan full of dirty dish water.] Mark was a good sport.

When I first heard the news about Mark, I went to the Internet and tried to Google him, and got dozens of hits (who knew there were so many Mark Greenwoods?) I realized that I was desperately searching for more than just information, but for a way to contact Mark - as if he'd still be able to check his e-mail. Then, I gave in to one of my personal pet peeves and drafted this totally corny letter to him . . . worse than anything I've read in any of those on-line funeral home guest books . . . But, I guess it all goes back to feeling "unresolved."

So, what would make me feel more resolved about Mark? To know that he reached a point in his life where he was happy, satisfied--a point where he'd achieved what he wanted to do. Some of what I see and read here answers that question very well. And yet, so many questions will remain unanswered.

As for our friend, Mark Greenwood, there was only one.

From Mark's Mom (Claudia)

Claudia asked me to post a few things here for her. First, a poem she wrote for Mark at one of his gigs. Based on the date and the location she mentioned, I think it was probably with the Jeff Ludwig Quartet - but I guess that's not so important. Also, she requested that I include a link to the American Porphyria Foundation - which I have done in the blog sidebar to the right.

" I would also like you to post the name of the website for the American Porphyria Foundation as a source of information to people who have for so long known that Mark has been ill, but who--like most doctors we encountered--know nothing of the condition or its devastating effects. Among the types of porphyria, his was identified as acute intermittent. It certainly explains the "attacks" which forced him to spend far too many days in bed. Unbelievably, the medication that he was prescribed and which he took faithfully for 'irritable bowel disorder for five years "


She also sent a couple pictures. The first picture was taken at Christmas 2004 near their home at the Prescott zoo. The second is Mark and Claudia in Skull Valley, AZ in the spring of 2005. It's great to see these more recent pictures of him. It's also hard because he seems so close... just one year ago.

Distant Drummer

Where do you go
when you close your eyes
as you play?
Do you spiral deep
into a centering place?

I want so desperately
to accompany you,
to ride on the pulsating
rhythms and sounds
that explode beneath
your fingers,
beckoning me.

I watch you closely
but find no clue in your pursed lips
which guard the secret.
I am left,
quite alone,
outside the circle,
the center inaccessible
to me.

Mom
1993

Mark in Grand Cayman

This is a picture I took of Mark in Grand Cayman on a small boat taking us and a group of cruise passengers to go swim with the stingrays when we were on a cruise ship excursion. We were playing in the band for the Cunard Crown Dynasty and signed up as the official staff member "guides" for the trip - which just meant that if there was an emergency or something we would be expected to go out of our way to notify someone on the ship. That was the price you paid for getting to go on the trip.

I remember the sound of the boat engine and the smell of the salt water as it occured to me to take out my camera. I wish I had done that more often.

note: the photo I put in right hand column of this blog is also from that boat ride.

More on the cruise ship experiences later...

And one more thing, I'm working on setting up a shared photo album where we can all put our Mark Greenwood photos and captions. I'll post instructions here when that's ready.

Good-Bye Mark

Our Friend, Mark Greenwood, left us on Saturday April 8, 2006 - one week after his 35th birthday. Below is the notice sent by email from his mother, Claudia...
-------------------------------------
This is a most difficult note to write, but necessary. Our son, Mark, 35, died this past Saturday in Las Vegas, Nevada. Those who knew him knew his dream. There were also shadows. He struggled for years to keep them at bay. Much too soon the dream faded and the shadows claimed his gentle spirit. We will remember his as gifted and clever, kind and loving. He brought great joy to our lives and many others through his music. He is survived by his best friend, a German shepherd. Isabel, who has been staying with us this past year.
We plan no services, but will take his remains to Goulais River, Ontario, this summer, returning him to his favorite fishing hole.
-------------------------------------

I hadn't seen Mark much in the last five years or so and, as it seemed, he was always on the move and doing his own thing, there was no reason to believe I would see him anytime in the near future. Still, I am now painfully aware of just how many times in the back of my mind I think "I'll have to tell Mark about that someday" or "Mark would really like that" or "I wonder if Mark has heard this album". Mark was always around in one way or another whether he knew it or not.

I know most everyone reading this must be experiencing something similar to what I have been feeling over the last couple of weeks. The flood of memories that were temporarily buried by the distractions of everyday life. The recall of conversations and experiences shared with Mark that nobody else remembers or even knows about. And the new burden of carrying on alone in our minds inside jokes that now nobody else gets. It's a very lonely and anxious feeling. What if I forget? Who will someday call and say "hey, remember that one time when...?"

Well, I hope this blog will help by giving us all a place to clarify and deposit our memories. In my experience, Mark often liked to carry on very separate friendships and was constantly looking for ways to define who he was by seeking out new expereiences independently. In this regard, I suspect this blog will help fill in the gaps for many of us as we find out what was going on with Mark in the parts of his life that we weren't a part of.

Let me start by telling how I know Mark for those who don't know me. We met when we were both about 17 - I think in 1988. We were both playing with a community big band (The Western Reserve Big Band) that rehearsed in Kirtland, Ohio. He pretty much kept to himself until I helped him carry out his drums one time. I think that's when our friendship started. We eventually learned that we were both heading for Capital University in the fall which, thinking back, is much more of coincidence that I realized at the time. We agreed that we should try to room together and we did for 2 years until he decided to move out of the dorms.

Of course, we had many, many experiences together after that but, for now, I'll just leave it at that. I'll create another post immediately with a photo and a short description of what was going on to further set this thing in motion.

I miss you Mark!