Mark Goss

I always loved, and still do, hearing my parents tell stories about growing up.  I like to hear from their perspective of 60+ years of life looking back.  It is fun to hear their stories of mischief, hopes, siblings and choices as a teen and child.  The older I get the more I understand that we really are a product of the choices --good and bad--we have made over the years.   A couple months ago I heard a well know psychiatrist say that most people's lives stem from 10 defining moments, 7 critical choices, and 5 pivotal people.  Since then I have been thinking a lot about that.  Of course my decision to marry Shawn--in the temple--was one of my critical choices, but what were the other ones?

About a month ago, I was asked to share an experience in young women of something that I had done that helped someone else.  I was prepared to share a story of when I had helped a sister in our ward, but as I sat, waiting for my turn, the thought came to me that I needed to share a story from when I was a teenager.  As I thought about it more, my mind landed upon the story of Mark Goss.  After sharing some of the story with the YW, I wondered if it could be that this incident is one of my defining moments.  Perhaps I think it is.  With this in mind, I thought I should write it down, at least as near as I can remember it.  Not because I want to show what a good thing I did, but more I think to tell the story of how a decision I made changed the person I have become.

I was 17 years old, and I would describe myself as cute, self confident, smart and very capable.   There were many other girls who were really beautiful, and who wore the coolest clothes, who always knew the right thing to say, and who were really intelligent--but that wasn't me.  My parents had introduced me to many different things in my short lifetime, and I was willing to try any new food, sports game, dance move, change my own car's oil or to speak in front of people.  I didn't consider myself really amazing at any of these things, but I was able, willing and had some natural athletic ability which I assume made it possible.  Most girls I knew were really good at one thing.  They were either really smart, or really good at soccer, and were not willing to be average at anything else.  And thus when an opportunity came to let's say join a community softball team, they declined because they didn't want to look stupid.  I took it as an opportunity to learn to do something better, and to get to know new people and I was usually very willing to look stupid for a while trying to figure it out.  I was also VERY competitive--which has dissipated some what with age--but helped encourage me to step out of my comfort zone and step towards unknown adventures.

My dad had told me stories growing up of going to dances with his friends.  He told me of a few experiences where he would get up the courage, waiting song after song, to ask a girl to dance, only to have her tell him NO.  This story made a big impression on me.  I thought of my father, being turned down, and it made me a little mad that any the girl couldn't take 3 minutes out of her night to dance with him.   So I made a decision that when ever a guy got up the courage to ask me to dance, I would always say yes.

(Bare with me I think I have set up enough background to tell the story I have intended to tell.)

I remember the moment well. It was February of 1986.  I was standing in a circle chatting with about 5 girls from my Young Women on a Sunday after Sunday school.  I was not unpopular in my ward.  My dad had been bishop, and I was one of 4 laurels in my ward and I  believe I was laurel president at the time.  Sunday school had just ended, and we were in the hallway just outside our classroom.  All the YW, probably near 25 girls were in the hallway.  The young men met on another side of the church building so it was basically a "guy free" zone.  I do not remember the topic of conversation, only that I was engrossed enough in it that I did not see what was coming.  I was literally "tapped on the shoulder" and as I turned to see who had done it, I expected to see a leader or a girl.  Instead I was face to face with Mark.

I need to take a minute and describe him to you, not to be cruel, but to help you understand the young man.  If memory serves me correctly, he was about 5'7" tall.  He was thin-ish, and had really bad acne on his face and neck.  I am not only talking active pimples with white tops, but also deep scaring and red pock marks on his face.  His hair was mousy brown and although cut short, it was really out of style, wiry and frizzy.  He had dandruff which was almost always scattered across is dark colored sweater.  He had a big nose, and big lips.  He wore glasses that were thick, and made his eyes look a bit off unless you were looking at him squarely from the front.  He had a mustache, but it was not trendy, and looked unkempt and a little off on a 16 year old guy. He was the oldest child from a poor family which had 6-8 kids, and they lived in a rustic house in a not-so-nice area of Evergreen, thus his clothes were hand-me-downs and out of style.  He attended the high school that was a little further out of town--as was his house.  He had epilepsy so he couldn't drive a car, and his comments--although very few-- in Sunday School and in the hallways were always very odd and awkward.  I had always thought he must be really smart, but I came to find out that he averaged D's in his classes, and that he really didn't have a friend in his school.  To my knowledge he didn't fit in anywhere.

I turned to look at him, and the whole circle of girls, who had been chatting furiously, went silent.  He stuttered and couldn't form words.  I smiled trying to make whatever he had to say easier on him.  Did the bishop ask him to come get me? I wondered.  What on earth could he want to ask me.  Then he said "Jenny, can I talk to you over there?"  I am sure that his intention was to get me away from the intimidating pack of girls I had been standing with. "Sure" I said.  As I followed him, a sense of dread started to come over me.  What did he want to ask me?  Certainly this was not a message from someone else or he would have already asked me.   I quickly scanned my mind for any clue to his intentions as we walked about 10 feet into the foyer area where there were a few families talking.  Then he turned and asked "Will you go to Prom with me?"  I was stunned.  I thought about the pact that I had made with myself. This wasn't a 3 minute dance, this was a WHOLE NIGHT!  Could I do this?  I had never been to any high school dance before, not Homecoming, not Sadies, not Prom.  And this was my junior year, and not even my high school!  As I wrestled with myself I looked at him and the thought came to me.  This is some one's son, some one's brother, some one's future dad.  Then the word came "Yes, Mark.  I will go with you to Prom."  As his smile broadened on his face and he turned to go, the dread began to wash over me.  Had I really just said I would go to my ONLY high school dance at a different high school where I had no one else to talk to?  I turned to retreat and was confronted by the girls who had been talking to me.  "What did he want?" they asked.  I responded in as much of a non-nonchalant way that I could muster. "He asked me to his prom."  One of the girls incredulously said "You told him no, right?"  As I looked at her I strengthened my resolve to really do the right thing and not complain behind his back.  "I told him yes, of course.  It took a lot of guts to ask me and it is just one night."  Then I said goodbye and turned to go to young women.

On the way though the hall after church, I had a mom of one of the other laurels pull me aside.  Oh great I thought...add something else.  She looked at me and said "I just heard that you said yes to Mark." I smiled a weak smile thinking boy word travels fast! I responded "Yes, I did."  She started to tear up and told me that she had always thought of me as a self righteous, cocky girl who didn't care about others. But that I had shown incredible depth and kindness that she would never forget.  She turned and left me stunned once again.  Hey!  I had always thought of myself as a nice, inclusive girl.  Is this how adults perceived me?

By the time we were pulling out of the parking lot of the church I was sure EVERYONE knew about it.  My mom stopped the car, turned back and looked at me.  She said "Dad and I are very proud of you."  This moment carried me though the next 2 months of waiting for the date to come.  (That's right he asked me early enough to let me stew about it for 2 months.)  My brother Todd was on his mission in the West Indies, and he was the only person I felt I could talk to about something like this.  Mostly I felt anxiety and dread about going, yet I felt like I had to be positive and nice about it, otherwise doesn't that cancel out the good of saying yes, if I begrudgingly talk about how awful it was going to be behind Mark's back?

Finally the night of the dance arrived.  My mom had made a beautiful pink dress for me to wear, and I loved the dress, but I wondered if I could be kind, sweet and get thorough the night.  About 30 minutes before Mark Goss arrived, two young men from my ward, Mark Wright and Brett Pearson, showed up on my door step.  They were guys who were both seniors in my high school and who must have had plenty of dates, and other things to be doing.  They were friends of Todd's, both good looking, fun guys.  Mark Wright and I had done a couple dance festival dance routines together and had been in the same group of friends for a few years while Todd was in high school.  I don't think these two guys had any idea what a difference they made for me that night.  I am not sure what prompted them to come, but they strengthened me that night.  They told me I looked beautiful, that I was doing the right thing and that they were impressed by me.  My mom took a couple pictures of our family with Mark, Brett  and I.  When I look at the pictures of of us I think about what those two did for me that night and how we all have the responsibility to strengthen and lift each other.  I will be forever grateful to them. 

My recollection is that Mark and Brett stayed until my date arrived. When he did, we had that awkward pin the corsage on the dress and the pin the boutonniere on his suit moment.  We took a picture and then were off.  Sister Goss drove us to dinner in their old car while the two of us sat in the back seat.  Mark had created a tape for us to listen to during the drive which he played on a battery powered cassette player because the car radio didn't work.  He had recorded music from off the radio, so most of the songs had partial DJ comments and were a little fuzzy. We ate at a nice steak restaurant in Golden, about a 30 minute drive from my home.  Mark told me to order anything I wanted, that he had been saving enough money for me to have whatever I wanted.  I remember trying to find something on the menu that would look like I had eaten like a princess but that would cost him the least amount of money.  I also tried to eat it all so it wouldn't go to waste and it would appear that I really enjoyed it.  I did my best to carry on a conversation.

After dinner we drove the 45 minutes to the school for the dance.  When we arrived I learned that he didn't know how to dance, and that he wanted to sit out all fast songs, and to dance all the slow ones.  (Being a dancer, this was a little sad because I had planned on at least enjoying dancing.)  I tried to find topics that were safe to discuss, but after 4 hours together I was running out of topics.  (What classes are you in?  Who is your favorite teacher?) I was relieved when a friend--Chris Colt--who was dating a girl from this school, had pity on me and danced a few fast dances with me.

I think I was introduced to over 60 people that night, who it seemed wanted to know who the girl was who went with Mark to the prom.  It seemed most were asking in a mocking tone--as if I was his cousin or distant relative.  This strengthened my resolve to be as cute and nice as I possibly could be to Mark.

After about an hour of the dance, and knowing that his mom was waiting in the car for us to be finished (there were no cell phones to call her), we headed back to my house.  On the way up the driveway I was so relieved to be almost finished.  I wondered if he would try to kiss me.  He opened my door and walked me to the front porch.  I remember that he said "Jenny, thanks for going with me."  I told him thank you for taking me and I decided to initiate a hug instead of waiting for what was sure to be an incredibly awkward goodbye.

You'd think that this would be the end to this extremely long story, but it really isn't.  I tried to say hi to Mark when I saw him in the next year after our date.  I didn't want to lead him on, but I did want to recognize him and make sure he knew that I knew who he was.

In the fall of 1987, I was a freshman at BYU.  On my birthday, I got a phone call from Mark.  (He had researched and found out my phone number in the dorms.) He called to wish me a happy birthday, and to tell me what he was up to and what he was doing.  I thought it a little odd, but nice.  He called the next year too, and the year after that.

On the evening of my wedding reception in the Evergreen chapel in May of 1989, I was called out to a telephone that was hanging in the foyer.  It was Mark Goss.  He wanted to congratulate me on my wedding, and wanted to know if Shawn was a nice guy.  He asked if I thought it would be okay with Shawn if he called me on my birthday each year.  I told him I didn't think he'd mind.

Every year on my birthday he called me.  He moved to Florida, and worked in a grocery store stocking shelves.  We talked about his health issues, jobs and what his plans were.  I don't think our conversations lasted more than 5 minutes when he called.  But the fact that he made the effort to track down my number each year and make the call, I think meant it was a big deal for him.  He died a couple years ago.  It surprised me what a big deal it was for me that had passed on. Mostly I was glad that I had said yes that day in February, and that I had tried to be kind to him in every instance we interacted.

What started out as an act of conviction and charity on my part, ended up defining me and my resolve to to what was right, even when only two people would have known differently.  It also defined me in the eyes of those who knew me, and I hope changed something in them as well.