A Memorial Tribute to Mark Lanier
23rd March 2019
By Dickon, Laird, Jonathan and Todd
Read by Dickon Pownall-Gray
I am here today speaking on behalf of Mark’s book group friends, a surviving fellowship of Jonathan Fine, Todd Green, Laird Calia and myself, Dickon Pownall-Gray.
Our fellowship started 23 years ago with our first book, Birdsong, by Sebastian Faulks. A powerful book set on the battlefield of the Somme in World War One. The hero, a battle fatigued “tunnel rat” named Stephen Wraysford, endures horrors while trying to fight a subterranean war beneath the German trenches.
Mark was deeply moved by Birdsong as were we all. It was a powerful book for a first book group meeting. Amidst the tiring candles and the empty bottle of Fonseca 86’, something “cosmic” happened. It was as if we entered a time warp where we, as men, were transported back a hundred years to a gentleman’s club. A club where we could bare our souls to one another, without judgement, and always with fellowship. Looking back with the benefit of hindsight, I realize that the book group quickly became a source of mutual support to all of us. We triumphed at each other’s successes, we helped each other through family tragedies, and we laughed together, sometimes uproariously.
Mark, at our many evenings over 23 years, personified the word gentleman. He was chivalrous, courteous, honorable, and a man of poetic sensibility, who took us on adventures through his fascination with military history.
Our book group format was always the same. Whoever was the host laid on a sumptuous meal with fine wine and often a menu fashioned to evoke the story of our selected book of the month. Mark, being a fabulous cook, always rose to the meal challenge.
I have delicious memories of Mark, with our book group crowded into his kitchen at the “Welland Road Club”, his cooking apron besmirched with spatterings of his béchamel sauce, a glass of Bordeaux in his hand, explaining passionately why Field Marshal Slim was the most underestimated General of the Second World War. Of course, Mark just happened to be an expert in this “forgotten war” of the Burma campaign of 1942 to 1944. Mark informed us that the American General, “Vinegar Joe” Stilwell, had, despite reports to the contrary, been a great admirer of the soldier’s general, “Bill” Slim, and that General Slim was one of Mark’s unsung heroes.
I asked my fellow book group members for their especial memories of Mark.
Todd talked about Mark’s gift for humorous storytelling, often at Dickon’s expense.
Jonathan remembers how Mark always asked for updates about our children and how Henry, Cole, Lily and Sam were the loves of Mark’s life.
Laird emailed me and said:
“I loved the way that he closed his eyes when he was considering something, as if he was pulling it into his mind for immediate inspection. And the little black notebook that he carried with him.
I'll miss his laughter, him leaning back and roaring, the way his eyes twinkled when he was ready to spring an intellectual trap on you.
A ha, I got ya!.
I remember an open bottle of wine while we drove together, the wineglasses to make the trip easier, not worried about the cops.
Or him admonishing me for having too CLEAN a desk.
“How can you work in such cleanliness?” he once asked me.”
Thank you Laird, Todd and Jonathan for your reflections.
I personally was entranced by Mark’s capacity to laugh in unexpected situations.
I once went on a hike with Mark on Nantucket. We came to stretch of land with a sign that read:
Strictly Private Property
No Entry
Beware Rottweilers
After a discussion we decided to trespass anyway.
A half a mile later we heard the bay of two Rottweilers and saw them streaking towards us. Our hearts pounded. In desperation I spotted two sticks, one large and one small. I hurriedly picked them up and immediately handed Mark the smaller one. Mark looked at his small stick, at my large stick and at the on rushing dogs. His eyes crinkled, an impish smile came across his face and a marvelous deep belly laugh emerged from his girth, and he roared with laughter. How I miss Mark’s contagious sense of the ridiculous.
Mark completed a Master’s Degree in Poetry at Oxford.
He was a wonderful writer.
I want to read you part of the last email that Mark sent to his beloved book group. Here he is describing, for those of the Book Group who missed the marvelous gathering in Istanbul, Ben Fine’s and “Jon Sue” “Aye dead A's” wedding. Mark is writing while sitting, the morning after the wedding, on a hotel terrace overlooking the Bosporus.
Mark says in his email:
“Good Gentlemen (those with us and those not):
I am sipping a gin & tonic (extra lime) on a hotel terrace, overlooking the Bosporus.
The water is smokey blue and anxious to get to the Mediterranean.
Last night, in a measure of how carefully the seating and intertwining of guests was planned, I was seated next to a friend of the bride's family, a man by the name of Selcuk Altun. My age, he was a senior banker in Istanbul, now retired, he has written 5 novels.
Oh, what fun to talk to.
We bonded over Coetzee's Disgrace and Murakami.
So of course I thought of book group.
Rebecca gave the best toast, the little virtuosa.
Looking past this terrace, over there is a Turkish flag, crescent yellow moon & star against a pepper red background, waving and rippling high above a bend in the "straights" that winds this water, that came from the Caspian, to the Black, and now to the Mediterranean, and will take it past the pillars of Hercules, to Boston, Essex, Bridgeport, and New York.
I send my very best with wonderful news of the marriage of Ben Fine and “Jon Sue” “Aye dead A”
Raise a glass in celebration.
There's hope.
Mark.
Mark, thank you for all your wonderful dinner parties.
Thank you for your love of Marcus Aurelius.
Thank you for wearing your banana suit one se when we last went skiing together.
Thank you for your friendship.
Thank you for being a 2nd Father to my daughters Ella and Saskia. It meant the world to me.
You are sorely missed.
Let’s raise a glass to Mark and his beloved children, Henry, Cole, Lily and Sam.
1