I learned just last week that my friend Mark had passed away. Now I can’t stop thinking about him. I spent a couple years with him in the early 1990s. What an enjoyable (and edifying) friendship. I look back to there now and I say I never should have left Blue Anchor. That big fat warm place with that big warm Garvey family everywhere around. Anyway I met Mark one evening in flying class over at Cross Keys in Turnersville, (I think). He must have taken one look at me in my Philadelphia suit and tie and bet himself that he could make me laugh. And that he did, time and time again. He liked me and trusted me from the moment I shocked him by using the words John Prine in a sentence.
We flew together early one autumn evening just before we were supposed to be at an important family party. I flew. Just seconds after take off from Cross Keys, we lost the one and only engine that that little plane had. And there was nothing but Pine Trees in front of us. Mark immediately but calmly began quoting the operating manual verbatim for what you do at times like this. So we landed safe and sound. Thank you Mark. And we looked at each other and shook our heads. And went off to the party. I'll tell you what though, we had the most interesting story at the party that night.
The funniest for me was when we flew a 4-seater rental over to the Poconos to pitch an Orthdox Jewish chocolate factory. Even I could tell they had a crappy and primitive conveyor system. I don’t know whatever happened with that. But what I do know is that when we walked in to that factory together and smelled all that fresh chocolate, it was nearly impossible for me or him to think about anything but chocolate. We had to wait so long. All the way through the business meeting. But after the meeting, we were invited to help ourselves to any of the broken pieces at the end of the line. We must have looked so pathetic there stuffing our faces and pockets with chocolate seconds. I’m pretty sure we didn’t eat so much as to make ourselves sick. But I do remember vividly looking at each other when we were getting ready to take off for home, and silently asking, “What did we just do?”
We bought a small plane together one time. So much fun. When Mark was driving me out to Cross Keys to see it for the first time, he quoted something from the operating manual. I said, “Is that from the operating manual?” He said yes, that he’d been reading it already.
At that point I realized 2 things. Number 1, now I have to read the manual, too. But number 2, if you have the information, you have the power.
That’s my trophy from my friend, Mark Garvey. I’ve made copies for all my kids.