My friend Mark Johnson

The first boy I can ever remember liking was Mark Johnson. I was in the 4th grade when he wrote me a note asking me to go with him. I, of course, said yes in my note back, which I folded like a heart, and then got all nervous and wouldn't really talk to him after that.

Mark was so funny- the really fun, happy, athletic, smart kid who everyone liked. He was good at sports AND could sing. One day, his mom called my mom and told her that Mark was going to sing "The Rainbow Connection" for the class talent show and wanted me to play for him. My mom said yes before even consulting with me, and I can still remember the embarrassment of having to walk with Mark to my house after school to practice. I don't think our moms had any clue about our consuming love affair. That was the longest walk of my young life.

I still remember getting a box of chocolates from him for Valentines Day hidden in my desk at school. I about DIED of angst and heart palpitations as I carefully stashed it in my backpack and then hid it under my bed. There was no way my mom would find out about anyone giving me chocolates, especially if he was only 10. I would pull it out and just stare at it and his note before sliding it back into the dusty depths.

I remember in the 5th grade, Mark calling me on the phone and telling me he wanted me to listen to something. I listened, and could faintly hear Hall and Oates sing "Your Kiss Is On My List" for about 30 seconds. He had asked the radio station to play it, and when they did, he called me and put the phone up to the radio. This makes me smile just thinking about it. I was 11 or 12 and I think I stopped breathing. Then he hung up. Oh man, I knew what he was thinking and this was a super confident kid with a huge posse behind him. Something was going down. I was outgoing in a group, but very shy one on one and I did NOT think I was keen on kissing anyone, not even Mark Johnson.

I remember a few weeks later, his gang of boys came up to me on the dodgeball court and told me that Mark wanted to "tell me something." (laugh laugh laugh smirk smirk) Did I want him to "tell it to me, or whisper it to me?" OF COURSE I eeked out "whisper it to me." There was no WAY I would have him tell it to me straight on. I just wasn't ready, wasn't ready for lip contact! Anyway, the next thing I know, he is right there with that grin and planted one on my cheek as his friends held my arms so I couldn't escape. Cheers erupted on the playground. Wow.

Soon after that, after one more note where he called me foxy, our love faded into the dark. The candle of infatuation dimmed and finally was extinguished. I found out later that it bugged him how I sucked on my ribbon barrettes. He didn't even appreciate that I had made a set in every color to match my outfits. All he knew was that it creeped him out when I would suck on the ends as I was practicing my spelling words. No more playing the piano for him anymore.

He moved on to my best friend Moe Holmes for 6th grade and finally, dated my other good friend Joanna Johnson who had hair down to her waist. Who could compete with that? I had a really bad perm from a student at a beauty college and it was so tight, it burned my scalp and shrunk my hair to my shoulders. Make no mistake, I was no Joanna Johnson.

In high school, we didn't talk much. He was an athlete and I was a music/drama girl. I really had no feelings for him at all after 6th grade, but just appreciated what a great and fun guy he was. He won our high school's Mr. Murray competition, which is usually won based on how fun and creative the guy is, not necessarily how beautiful he is. Mark wasn't necessarily beautiful. I never really liked super beautiful people anyway.

Mark Johnson was killed in a car accident last night. He was coming home from a two-week business trip in time for Christmas. He had 5 kids. His oldest was 10 and he had 10-month old twins. He was driving home from the airport and somehow, ran into a street sweeper which was apparently going about 5 miles an hour on the freeway. The airbag deployed, broke his sternum and he died. Just like that. He was 39 years old.

This guy was so good--larger than life. He could make anyone laugh and feel comfortable around him. He had served as the bishop of his ward earlier and was in the prime of his career. He attended our high school reunion the summer before, showed off his cute wife and family, and was enjoyed by all. There was the general attitude of, "Mark Johnson is here! Have you seen Mark? Mark's here!"

I am so sad. What are the chances of hitting a street sweeper on your way home for Christmas? How excited would he have been to hold his little twins right after he walked through the door and kissed his wife? His older kids might have been looking out the window, maybe made a sign. It had been a two-week trip after all and Mark would have been that kind of dad and that kind of husband.

Mark, thank you for giving me some good, funny, juicy memories. I am so happy to have shared my elementary years with you..class clown, Mr. Popular, Dodgeball champ. I will listen to the Rainbow Connection in your honor today. Thank you for the example you set for so many by being genuine and real. I will pray for your little family. I know they will see you again.

Love Erin