We lost Mark Welsh Tuesday evening. I only knew him a short time, having met him when I participated in the A Walk with the Ancients back in 2009. But I had walked with him many times after that.
We will surely miss him.
I’d never really had much interaction with Native American culture. I went with my family to some of the local pow-wows put on by NAICCO. I had an interest in the historical aspects of the earthworks in Newark, and goofed around with some local Native languages (simply because I was fascinated by the “-ing” suffix on many local rivers). I probably have a smidgeon of Native ancestry, but it is so far back that no part of its culture has survived in our family. So it really didn’t impact me at all.
I went on the walk because it looked interesting.
It was. And Mark was one of the reasons it was interesting, a wonderful learning experience. And rewarding.
And it allowed me to spend time with him for the last four years, when I’d find him at exploratory walks around Newark, at the Octagon Open House, an occasional pow-wow, or even occasionally on an official hike somewhere.
Here are just a few photos of how I remember him. (Many of the photos taken by Tim Black.) Obviously, I really only knew him peripherally, not like family or close friends. Nonetheless, I feel tremendously honored to have counted him among my friends.
Mark was one of the drummers and singers on the Walk with the Ancients. Here he is as we prepared ourselves to start the walk.
Mark in the Drumming Circle
He was, of course, a drummer and singer for much more than the walk—he was always at the pow-wows as a prominent and valued feature.
While on the Walk we camped a few nights at Rock Mill. This picture is so quintessentially Mark.
A Good Time at Rock Mill
He was always enjoying himself, and always had a witty comment.
I thought I’d also include this picture of his daughter, Taeya, who went with us on the walk.
Taeya (I hope I’m spelling that right)
Mark took care of family. The bonds all of us had formed on the hike meant that, when Taeya was playing soccer in Pickerington, I came to watch the game.
Back at Rock Mill, Mark and I were talking.
At Rock Mill
Yet another shot from Rock Mill.
Mitakuye Oyasin
This was the evening of Columbus Day, and Mark led some very interesting discussions around the campfire. What I learned the most from Mark was Mitakuye Oyasin, “we are all related”.
Mark lived it. He taught it. He taught us to value it.
One of the nights on the Walk we had dinner in a local church in Baltimore (OH). I love this picture of Mark in the drumming circle.
Drumming Circle
Keep in mind that these are religious—spiritual. It is another aspect of what Mark taught to me.
For a few years afterwards, the “Walk with the Ancients” morphed into a class at OSU-Newark. Of course Mark was part of it. Here he is, front and center, singing and playing a hand drum.
Another “Walk with the Ancients” Group
Some of us original walkers were invited for the final day, so here’s a shot of those of us who could make it that day.
L. to R.: Joe Kennedy, Brian Higgins, Hunter Garner, Bob Neinast, Mark Welsh, Bob Pond
There’s Mark, between me and Bob Pond.
As the focus of the Newark Earthworks Center shifted a bit, it added walking tours to find remaining remnants of the Earthworks. Mark was part of that, too.
Here’s the crowd (that’s Mark on the left) starting out last August. (I called it A Walk with the Currents.
The (Not So Ancient) Current Walkers
I’d also run into Mark when I’d least expect it. Last October there was a hike at Blackhand Gorge, and there he was. It was a nice time to visit a bit. While the ranger leading the hike could give us some of the more recent history, Mark gave us the significance of the place from a Native perspective.
I last saw Mark on April 20. There was another Newark earthworks tour.
At the Burial Mounds
This is the location of where there were many burial mounds. We’d always stop there and Mark would sing and say a prayer, and teach us all of what went on before.
As always, his humor also came through. We got talking about the Lakota language and the different dialects (like Dakota, Lakota, and Nakota, related to how different sounds had evolved). Mark made the joke that people sometimes had trouble understanding him, since he spoke his own dialect: Markota.
On that last tour of Newark, Larry, another of the original Walkers showed up. So here’s my last picture of Mark, as he and Larry returned to the Great Circle at the end of the tour.
Mark with Larry
Sigh.
Mark will be greatly missed.
[Edited to fix the spelling of Taeya’s name.]
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