In The Wilderness: Uncle Mark

~Uncle Mark~

Being that uncle Mark was the only original soul brother in the group and the fact that we're in the southernest state in the confederacy, I was going to put him last, but we'll break the rules and do 'the dog' now. Mark and I were in homeroom together all four years of high-school at the newly integrated (figuratively speaking) Orangeburg-Wilkinson High. I remember when he and his brother in the 'cool' black fraternity would all of a sudden all wear 'little boy' suits to class. I mean the coolness and gumption of those cats was incredible. Now, our next brother, Bebo, actually integrated that 'black fraternity' at some point as well which just adds to a cool story, if you didn't already know by now.

We were assembling members in the band, when I saw Mark leaving the prescription shoppe (the legal one) one fall afternoon in 1986. Knowing that Mark played sax--we had jammed together before with some other soul brothers--I immediately asked him to join the band. He did. Turns out, Uncle Mark was a hell-uv-a lot better vocalist that a saxophonist. I can't tell you how many times I told Mark on the way back from a show, how he was going to hit it big time. Well, he's still waiting for the national exposure, but in Macon, Georgia (his home--as in his song) the brother is famous. Mark's vocal style is absolutely nothing but soul, the texture, the timbre is just sheer original and faithful Mark. On one of my failed escapes from the material world, I got to celebrate his (or mine, I can't remember) thirty-third birthday in Washington, DC. I would later make it to Phoenix, Arizona before begging for a flight back home. So silly. And who else was thirty-three last time anyone saw him? Anyway, so much more to write on 'the dog', but there will be more in forthcoming blogs.

*Before I let you go, I have to say that whenever I was faced extreme financial (what else?) difficulties, I could call the Uncle Mark (actually, this is how my daughter refers to him) in Macon, Georgia from Columbia, South Carolina and after a desperate chat, he would say something like, ". . . and Willis, all I can say is that I know that I'm a child of God" and well that's all the assurance I would need to get by. The Dog.