Since my youngest brother died last week, Thursday, 24 Sep 2026, I wanted to share with my family a few of the best memories I had with him as we grew up on Colonial Drive in Inkster, Michigan. These focus on his love for music and the outdoors. His Obituary can be found on the Gaylord Community Funeral Home web site here.
-- John Schneider, September, 2026
back to Mark's Dedication Page
Three Memories of Mark Vincent Schneider
I want to share three of the best memories I have of youngest brother Mark Vincent Schneider, among those I’m most fond. One is of including him in attending a concert at Cobo Hall, Detroit, hearing Jethro Tull’s performance of Thick As A Brick. The second is of a backpacking trip in the Monongahela National Forest on West Virginia. The third is another backpacking trip in the Rocky Mountains.
The Concert
In early November of 1972 Mark accompanied me along with a few of my friends, all enthusiastic Tull fans, including brother Bill, to hear Jethro Tull live in Cobo Hall in Detroit. I’m sure Gary Kiester was among us, with John Neph, among others. The performance consisted of Tull's most recent release, Thick As A Brick, a ground breaking, breathtaking masterpiece, and still is to this today. In other words, we were all blown away by this work. And to see it performed live was to be a spectacular experience.
We were all sitting in our seats directly facing the stage, settling in for the appearance of the band, watching roadies setting up sound equipment. All of a sudden those stage hands kicked off the opening salvo of Thick As A Brick (TAAB as it is known to Tull enthusiasts) and to our surprise, those weren’t stage hands, they were the Jethro Tull band members! I don’t know if the audience went wild or just were just stunned by the magnificent tones of the first song, but we sat memorized for the duration of the concert.
Mark later told me that witnessing that performance was to him the catalyst to pursue a career involving live performance, a desire he attained, especially in the last few years, playing a number of venues in the Gaylord-Traverse City area. He was very proficient with the guitar, piano, and flute.
Backpack trip Number One
The trip to the Monongahela Wilderness area was my first real backpacking experience. I don’t remember the exact date but it must have occurred between 1974 and 1976. Gay Kiester asked me to accompany him to a section of this exquisite forest in West Virginia and Mark was invited to join us.
Since he was born in 1959 he would have been around 16 years old. He enjoyed the beauty and simplicity of Nature. He also was a minimalist at that time, he didn’t want to carry all the trappings of a normal backpack excursion, so he declined to bring a sleeping bag and tent. Instead he would sleep out in the open and rely on the dubious protection of what was then called a “space blanket” which was a silver Mylar sheet that had the appearance of those devices that are now used in cars which, placed against the windshield, should minimize heat buildup in the vehicle. He thought for sure this would give him all the comfort he would require for sleeping under the stars. His supposition would be sorely tested.
We probably parked our vehicle in Durban, West Virginia, and made the trek into the woods. The weather was marvelous, I don’t recall getting any rain. Hiking temps were fairly pleasant. We walked some miles enjoying God’s verdant creation and all that comes with getting so completely away from civilization, which was another thing Mark appreciated in those days..
The first night we setup camp Gary and I set up our tents. I rolled out my Army surplus sleeping bag and peacefully slept until the birds woke us up the next morning. Mark apparently did not endure a pleasant night’s sleep. The flimsy “space blanket” did not perform to his expectations. By the second night he had enough. While I was in my bag sleeping Mark came to my tent and asked if he could come in. He indicated that he was not going to make it another night with just this sheet over him. When we laid down to sleep I unzipped the sleeping bag and with it we both covered ourselves as best we could and managed to get the sleep we needed. I’m glad he asked for help and that I could offer some measure of relief for him. I’m sure it helped him enjoy the remaining days of our excursion.
Backpack trip Number Two
The last backpacking trip I made was in 1976 or 1977. Gary Kiester had forsaken civilization and moved out to Montana to become a “mountain man”. He became familiar with some wonderful backpacking locations and called upon his friends to come west and visit him in Helena. He also asked if we would bring his stereo speakers to complete his stereo setup. So friend and neighbor John Neph and I agreed to drive an approximately 1500 mile. 25 hour road-trip, and Mark agreed to come along to see the Rocky’s. The drive was grueling, only stopped for gas and food. John shared the driving duties with me as Mark was too young to drive being only about 17. But when we reached the middle of Montana we really found out what was meant by “the big sky country”, the scenery was spectacular and the sky felt surreal in its immensity.
The first area Gary wanted to share with us was the Bob Marshall Wilderness area. This magnificent place is located about 65 miles northwest of Helena, and Gary guided us to a trail head called Mortimer Gulch (where he would later find a place to reside in a tiny one room cabin to spend the rest of his life). The most spectacular thing that happened on this trip was being enveloped in the pristine nature and the Rocky Mountains and hiking near the so-called Chinese Wall, which is what the Continental Divide in named in the location we hiked.
During our stay with Gary in Helena, or should I say with Gary’s friends, as he was staying in a trailer owned by two others, husband and wife. But Gary had a second location to share with us, and we drove out to the northern edge of Yellowstone Park. Just inside the Montana border is Cooke City. From there the four of us hiked into bear country (didn’t see any, fortunately). And we camped on the edge of Fossil Lake across from which rose the relatively majestic Mount Rosebud. (The picture below shows what we saw from our camp site.)
During our too-short stay along Fossil Lake Mark and I hiked around the water’s edge over to the two mountains with the objective of making it to the top. We accomplished this after quite an exertion. The upper half of the mountain was snow covered at the time but the weather was delightful and we didn’t mind the chill at all, immersing ourselves in the majesty of the mountain peaks that surrounded us. The side of the peak that faced the lake had a smooth face and being shaded from the sun full of snow. Mark and I did not relish returning to camp by the way we came so without much hesitancy decided that body skiing down was to most efficient way to return to the lake. So we stepped off and slid down the mountainside safely reaching the bottom.
And with those exciting and refreshing times, and after a day or two of rest, we bid Gary adieu, and Mark, John Neph, and I drove back to Inkster, Michigan, with great memories to cherish. In years to come Mark would mention to me his gratefulness that he was included in these events
Fossil Lake Montana