In Memoriam

'Contributor' vendor Mark Dodd remembered as loving, kind

Contributor vendor Mark Dodd died in mid-April after being struck by a car on West End Avenue.

Dodd, 55, was remembered by Contributor staff as a loving man who relished times with friends. Here are their memories of him:

“Mark had a soft, twangy voice that could usually be heard making some dry-witted, deadpan joke, but he was also the kindest of humans.

The first time I chatted with Mark, I asked if there was anything he wanted me to tell the team, and he just said, 'Tell them I love them, and I’m thankful for everything they’re doing.'

Once I began working with Mark, almost every time we departed, he would say: 'I love you.' I thought this was a little odd at first but soon realized this wasn’t something he just said to me. He and I had a conversation about it once, and he said he used to not be comfortable saying I love you, but he decided after everything that happened in his life, all the family and friends he’d lost, not knowing what would happen next, he’d say it.

Mark relished cooking and could not wait to have his own kitchen so he could rustle up some fine meals for himself and friends. When I asked what his favorite meal was, he said, 'You’re going to think this is weird,' he paused looking at me with a gleeful side eye and grin, 'It’s liver and onions… with mash potatoes and pinto beans.'

He’d also use his catch phrase, 'God loves you and so do I' when saying goodbye to almost anyone. He declared it to doctors, property managers, to the teller at the Social Security Office and to the police officer asking him to leave a parking lot.

Mark moved into his own apartment this March and was able to prepare some of his country cooking and sit around a table (in his case, a coffee table) to share the meal with friends. On the first day he did this, he told me he was sitting there looking around at the faces of his friends in his apartment, and he just couldn’t believe it was happening.

Mark will be exceedingly missed. And we all love you too, Mark.” — Mary-Margaret Weatherford

“Every time I saw Mark, he was smiling. It didn't matter what he was going through, or what his situation was. He was always thanking God, and always radiating joy. He was relentlessly kind. Nothing life threw at him disturbed his beautiful spirit, and love for others. The world is a little bit dimmer without him in it. I dearly miss him, and his light, and his love for life.” — Carli

Thomas Mitchell, known for his big heart, made an impression on ‘Contributor’ staff

Contributor vendor Thomas Mitchell, 51, passed away in March after he was shot in his apartment during an altercation. His family described him as having a big heart and as having loved music and fishing.

Contributor staff remember him for his sensitivity, good sense of humor and for his persistence through difficult events. Here are some of their memories of him:

“Death is not a rare occurrence in my world as director of a nonprofit working with people experiencing homelessness. I’ve seen people on the streets freeze to death, overdose, and die of easily treatable illnesses. When one of our vendors passes away from 'normal' causes — cancer, old age, heart disease-there is actually a nugget of gratefulness in my heart that they died in housing, in a warm bed, with food in the fridge and folks who will miss them. You shouldn’t, but you do, learn to deal with it, if only out of self-preservation. But I am having some deep sadness and regrets about Thomas’s death.

Many of you knew Thomas, a man who struggled with untreated OCD and other issues for many years, even while a vendor of The Contributor. In 2020, I gave him a key to his room at the Rodeway Inn, and told him it was just the start. He looked at me and said, “I don’t know. Think I should just keep my tent in the woods,” But he took the key. When he ended up moving from room to room because of the south Nashville flood, he was very angry that someone had moved his belongings while he was out working. It was then that I saw that his room was immaculate. Everything had its place. I took him to Walmart and bought him new towels, a toothbrush and anything that might have been “contaminated.” Thomas would come to our weekly AA meetings under the influence, probably to self-medicate the OCD, but he always helped me set up the chairs in a perfect circle.

We kept our word to Thomas. Thomas got a Section 8 voucher and was housed in an apartment. We delivered furniture. He was SO HAPPY. We connected him to mental health treatment. He worked with our staff to apply for SSDI. He was an avid biker and good mechanic. He started rebuilding old bikes and repairing them for people in his building. His landlord loved him because he was so clean and cheerful. Anytime I saw him, which was a lot, he sold the paper on the corner by my house, he was sober. But it was more than that. His entire appearance had changed. He radiated more “upward mobility” relaxed and happy than the desperate isolation of the man who didn’t want the key. He started wearing polo shirts with a collar instead of T-shirts.

And he was dealing with life on life’s terms. He suffered a hit and run on his bike that broke three ribs. His nicest bike was stolen. He just cruised with all of it with the help of our volunteer staff, who listened and encouraged him. One time, Thomas waved me into the gas station by his vending spot and proceeded to vent about his doctor, who was “ignoring” his complaint of the varicose veins popping up in his legs due to all the biking. He wanted a reference for another doctor. I drove away grinning. If this was Thomas’s biggest problem today, varicose veins, then THIS is a life that had turned a corner.

A small error in judgment, like any you or I would make, escalated into a tragic death for Thomas. I know I should know better by now, and it is business as normal by day, but at night when the commotion dies down, I lie awake sometimes wondering if I had been more persistent in trying to reach him if things could have been different. I say a prayer of apology and ask his forgiveness for not being there when he needed me the most. The world is a sadder place without him on the corner of Wedgewood and 8th. Godspeed Thomas. You ARE missed.” — Cathy

“Two things I always noticed first about Thomas were his smile, and his eyebrow ring. He had a wonderful sense of humor, and a great sense of style. I saw him make so much progress over the last two years, and I am so grateful to have known him, and to have been a small part of his journey. I will always miss and remember Thomas. May he have the rest and peace he always sought.” — Carli

“Thomas was a sensitive guy who felt things deeply. He was working so hard to overcome his worst instincts, as he knew what he needed to do to improve his life. Usually, he could be calmed with a brief conversation when he got swept up in passion. We didn't have a conversation when, I suppose, he needed it most.” — Michael

"I would always greet Thomas as our vendor with two first names. He'd correct me and say, "I'm the guy with three first names!" Thomas was passionate about his bicycles. He was a skilled bike mechanic and took pride in fixing bikes up for other people. I think he really considered The Contributor his community. He confided in me that he had walked a hard road throughout his life, but that things were looking up for him the last time I saw him. I considered him a friend. I will miss his smile and good nature in the vendor office." — Andy Shapiro