Mark James Wilson

I agree with what others have written. Mark was kind, gentle, generous, intelligent, funny, caring, talented, and a good listener. We have lost someone very special. Mark and I were friends since we were 5 years old (1972) at the First Unitarian Church of Pittsburgh’s Sunday school, with our friendship peaking when we were 15-40 (1982-2007). I, too, am very fortunate and grateful that we were friends. In addition, I consider myself very lucky that in 2018, I sent a message of appreciation to him on Valentine’s Day (which I strongly recommend that everyone do that sort of thing) and visited him in Fort Worth on the last weekend of September. Mark will be deeply missed. As Mark’s brother Chris said, when he phoned me, Mark’s death is an emotional “punch in the gut.” May Mark’s extended family and extended family of friends find all the strength, and receive all the comfort, love, and support they need. May Mark James Wilson live on in many people’s fond memories. Let it be. Some more reflections (for those with the time and interest) Mark and I had a lot in common, not just being two white males of the same age with dark hair, with the same first name, with younger brothers who were about the same age, and being raised as Unitarians. :) Our parents separated and divorced at approximately the same time - living with our mothers and having visitation schedules with our fathers for a decade. Money being sufficiently tight that a lot of our clothes came from thrift stores. He started college as pre-med and I started as pre-vet, with both of us eventually finding the sciences just a bit too demanding, before ultimately changing our majors to ones in the social sciences. It was wonderful that we could talk about common challenges without fear of embarrassment or misunderstanding. Here is the main part of the Valentine’s Day, 2018 letter of appreciation I wrote to Mark: When I think of you, I remember: First Unitarian Church Sunday school, many great conversations walking around Park Place and Frick Park or sitting in your room, Boy Scouts (especially, camping and sailing at Lake Pymatuning), working with you at Carnegie Library as part-time pages during the summer before college, exchanging letters and postcards (back when long-distance calls were a big deal and before e-mail existed), your visiting me at Ohio University (when you “came out” to me) and my visiting you at Johns Hopkins, getting together during winter breaks and vacations (e.g., midnight Christmas mass at St. Paul’s, New Year’s Eve), you hosting me in Brooklyn (and finding a Mexican-Indian restaurant that met both of our different preferences that evening :) and hosting me again a couple times in Tucson (in 1993 [incl. trip to Nogales] & 2005), you organizing a group Thanksgiving dinner in Colonial Williamsburg [Note: I imagine a number of American Airlines folks remember that 2001 Thanksgiving dinner, too] and a Christmas road trip in 2001, plus our vacation in Puerto Rico the next year (incl. dancing at a gay bar). Thank you for so many good memories. On the superficial side, I could have added that I admired (and was a bit jealous of) what a nice tan he often got and how dark and full his mustache was, when he chose to wear one. :) Yesterday, I dug up some old photos and those old letters and post cards he wrote to me when we were in college (1985-1989). I couldn’t help but chuckle. First, there was his dry sense of humor that could include self-deprecation, but also occasional cattiness. Then, there was his almost illegible handwriting. :) And while he made it clear to me that I was not his “type” in terms of romance, :) he also was expressive about how he valued our friendship when we were far apart and busy pursuing different career paths. I’ll close with the best example of this. “It seems awfully wrong that I should only be able to see you twice or three times a year, for only a few hours each time, but it’s probably inevitable.” Now, we are left with a similar mixture of feelings of appreciation, longing, wishing things could be different, frustration, and resignation ..., but deeper. Thank you, Mark; a zillion times, thank you.