Mark

I just received some very sad news that one of my coworkers, Mark Schwed was found dead in his home this morning. It was strange to read the words. Strange how one's brain processes information. I could feel my mental wheels turning.

I reread the email, registered his face in my head. I hadn't worked with him much but I remember him vividly. I think that's because he had such a friendly way about him. When I worked with him, I knew he was interested in his subject. He seemed to like what he did, enjoyed talking to people, too. I actually haven't worked with many who are that way, oddly enough.

I illustrated a story about six generations of a Riviera Beach family that still all lived area. He helped corral everyone into one room for a giant group shot, and I can see him now, this one white guy in the back of the room full of blacks. The family was warm and jovial, and they laughed when I told Mark he stood out in the back there (and needed to move).

Years ago, we were sent to the weather headquarters in Miami following a hurricane. I remember it was his birthday, because the assignment was taking so long, he was concerned about meeting up with his family for his birthday dinner. Years later, I passed him in the hall around the same time, maybe even the same date. I wished him happy birthday because, for some reason, I'd remembered. It must have been the hurricane anniversary that triggered my memory.

"How did you know?!" he asked, surprised. I reminded him of our assignment years ago.

I didn't really know him, but I'm very sad he's gone. I keep wondering to myself if it's that fraction of middle schooler that still exists within all of us, that leads me to be sad about it. That adolescent drama streak. But, no, now that I think about it, he was just a very cool person with a big smile and I liked him. And that's that.