Prince George lost a friend on Saturday. I lost a friend.
It's hard to believe David Mah is gone. Even though he had been undergoing treatment for lung cancer for about a year and a half, there was somehow this sense that he would escape the grip of his disease. Dave was one of the good ones, and surely cancer would show him some mercy.
It was not to be.
Dave was 54 years old at the time of his passing. He had been in Calgary, living with his parents, whose home is just minutes away from the hospital and the Tom Baker Cancer Centre. Dave's life was cut short, but if ever a successful life was lived, it was his.
How is success measured? Ultimately, it's in the number of people an individual impacts positively along the way. And, as a long-time photographer in Prince George, Dave impacted thousands.
Dave was loved by so many. When he wasn’t able to get from Calgary to Prince George anymore because of his advancing illness, people went to him.
Without a doubt, his images hang on the walls of many local homes, either in the form of newspaper clippings or as colour reprints from Prince George This Week and The Citizen. These photos - whether they capture moments of personal history and achievement, or whether they show stunning wildlife or nature scenes - will become family heirlooms that will be passed along for generations. But Dave didn't just make his mark with his physical body of work. He also made it through his open and always-smiling demeanour. It seemed that, on the job or off, Dave made friends with everyone he met. And many of his friendships were the deep, lifelong kind.
Dave was loved by so many. When he wasn't able to get from Calgary to Prince George anymore because of his advancing illness, people went to him. I was fortunate to spend some time with him in mid-April, just a few weeks before he passed away.
I first got to know Dave in 1999 when I joined the staff of Prince George This Week. For my three years there, we seemed to be joined at the hip. I'd be out, interviewing subjects for stories, and he'd be along to snap the pictures. We enjoyed each other's company and made a good team. As for Dave's photos, they were top-notch because he always put in the extra effort to get the shot he wanted.
One of my favourite David Mah photos is from our P.G. This Week days, and this particular picture was a perfect example of how Dave would go the extra mile.
The photo was one of Billy Collins, a Prince George Spruce Kings forward who had just scored his 50th goal of the 2000-2001 B.C. Hockey League season. I wanted to write a Sports This Week cover story on Collins so I arranged to meet him one afternoon at the Coliseum. Dave, of course, came along.
Because this was after practice, there really wasn't much of an opportunity for a good photo. But I needed a cover image so Dave thought for a moment and came up with a concept for one. He explained his plan to Collins and me, and the three of us gathered up 50 pucks and arranged them in a huge '50' on the ice. Collins then posed behind the strategically-placed pucks and Dave got on a chair (or maybe it was a ladder) and started snapping.
His idea was simple yet brilliant and allowed him to perfectly capture Collins' remarkable achievement. By going beyond what was required, Dave had ensured his photo told the story much better than my words ever could.
Part of Dave's appeal was that he loved to laugh. Late one winter afternoon, we were both laughing so hard we were on the verge of collapsing.
On this occasion, I had made an appointment to meet a minor hockey player inside the front entrance of the Multiplex. Dave, of course, came along.
Often - and this demonstrated the pride Dave took in his work - he would come back to the office with a photo he just happened to "find" while he was out and about.
As it turned out, this was also the night the NHL Oldtimers were in town to play an exhibition game against a local team. As Dave and I were standing in the foyer, waiting for our subject to arrive, we noticed a fellow coming from the outside and walking through the front doors. I recognized him right away and so did Dave. But, the slightly younger guy who was standing guard at the doors that provide access to the arena's inner concourse, did not. As the man attempting to gain entrance to the concourse was trying to step past the guard, the guard shifted slightly to block his way and held up a clipboard as if to say, 'Invited guests only.' The man, extremely large across the shoulders and thick through the chest, flashed a grin that had been seen on TV for decades and said: "I think I'm on your list. Last name's Hull. Bobby Hull."
Then Hull - known as the Golden Jet during an NHL and WHA career that landed him in the Hockey Hall of Fame - moved past the bewildered-looking guard, glanced back through the glass at Dave and me, and started chuckling. With that, we couldn't contain ourselves any longer and started giggling. Once we started we couldn't stop and were soon both wheezing and trying to catch our breath.
Dave and I eventually moved "across the street" to The Citizen and our working relationship and friendship continued. For years, we worked weekends together, chasing down stories and their accompanying photos. Often - and this demonstrated the pride Dave took in his work - he would come back to the office with a photo he just happened to "find" while he was out and about. It might be a picture of a local curling team getting ready for provincials, or a shot of a baseball player who had just landed a scholarship. Dave would say, "Jason, this might be a story for you," and on the bottom of his printout he would have scrawled a name and a phone number.
Here's one last snippet about Dave, one that shows him for the kind, gentle and selfless person he was.
During my visit with him a few weeks ago, he was still at home with his parents, Bud and Esther. In their neighbourhood, on Viceroy Drive in Calgary's northwest quadrant, wild rabbits hop freely all over the place.
These large, floppy-eared critters are cute. Really cute.
Anyhow, one afternoon when we arrived back at Dave's house after an outing, one such bunny was sitting on his front lawn. I mentioned to Dave that my daughter, Meg, would melt if she could see this. In fact, she'd probably want one as a pet, I said.
And Dave, who at this time was having extreme trouble breathing and needed an oxygen tank 24 hours a day, told me he would try to get a picture of one for Meg.
Here was a guy, knowing he was in the final stages of his life, who was going to do his best to do something nice for a 12-year-old girl.
In a text message Dave sent me on April 21, after I was back in Prince George, he said: "I havent shot a bunny yet... but its very close. These animals are mind readers."
Dave and I continued to text back and forth for the next week. But, on the morning of April 30, he couldn't breathe, even with the help of the oxygen, and was taken to hospital. By the following day, he said he was feeling a little better and was hopeful he'd be released soon.
That didn't happen.
Over the course of that week, Dave's replies to my messages became sporadic. On May 5, he said: "Still in Hospital Jason." I said I hoped he was starting to feel a bit better and asked him if he was managing to eat enough.
His response, and the last one I got from him, said: "Yes. Thank. Tty later."
Two days after that, Dave said goodbye to this world.
At the time of his passing, I was at Masich Place Stadium, participating in Prince George's 24th annual Relay For Life, a major fundraiser for the Canadian Cancer Society.
Dave, of course, took photos at the relay many times during his career. Through his lens, he captured the joy and the pain of the event, as experienced by its participants - many of whom knew him on a first-name basis.
Now, Dave will be one of the people honoured year after year at the Relay For Life. The stadium setting will be the perfect place for his multitude of friends to gather, and they'll never forget him.
I know I won't.
Tty later, Dave.
