Mark N. Dolny

Mark was a kind, funny, smart, compassionate, loving and lovable man. We’re grateful to have known him and know he’ll be missed by all who had that privilege. Among the memories of Mark that always make us smile was his joyous exuberance on the dance floor (and Mark was a great dancer!)

Suzy and Charlie

Mark. I miss you.
Amy, he adored you. Every time he looked your way, every time he spoke of you, the light in his eyes confirmed what he said aloud again and again: I can't believe how lucky I am.
Nathaniel, he adored you, too. Since you were born, and every day after, I witnessed the love and pride and wonder and care that your father brought to you.
I have so much more to say, but I don't have the heart to write it. I'll be telling you gradually through the years ahead.
Mark means so much to all of us. And I know that you know...everyone knew, because he manifested it with radiance throughout your lives together: you have always meant everything to him.

Mark and I became best friends in High School by an interesting chance. We both moved to Trumbull CT mid-year and started school on the exact same day in October of our Sophomore year. We met in the principal’s office with our mom’s and ended up in the same homeroom (D-E - Dolny Engel) in a graduating class of 630 people with 3 vice principals. The first thing I recall was talking about bands we both liked – but particularly we like Triumph and April Wine (where most people had never heard of them). This month, I had seen an announcement that Triumph and April Wine announced they are back touring together in 2026, which was going to be part of my next letter to Mark. We both had a love for sci fi and comedies and we would get tears in our eyes laughing at shows we had seen – in particular Police Squad (In Color). We would quote silly movie lines all the time (for me - still to this day).

Our junior year of High School we both had girlfriends and would often double date. We had gathered up a great set of friends for outings and parties that continued to graduation. We would always welcome new students to the group who moved to a new school like us. Everyone would hang out in our homeroom at school.
After our junior year, and after I got dumped by my girlfriend (thanks for reminding me Dave 😉 ), Mark and I went on a trip to my families old cabin in Minnesota the summer before our senior year.

Our senor year of High School, I was the first person in a class of 630 accepted to college in September of our senior year and somehow, I talked Mark into joining me to go to Tennessee vs. Clemson. The day we graduated from High School, the moving van was loading up at my house, and my parents were moving to Virginia. I stayed with Mark and the Dolny’s for the summer – and we worked together at the Mobil Station on I-95 in Darien CT. We got to spend some time with friends before heading off together for college.

Our freshman year in college we had the 1982 World’s Fair with a laser show and fireworks out of our dorm window each night. I got to visit Mark in Trumbull for a New Years Party that year, but sadly that was last time I saw many of our high school friends.
Mark and I were roommates for the first 2 years of college at Tennessee and later we would still meet up for dinner and concerts with our friends. Mark had met Scott in the Architecture program, who later became my brother-in-law.

After graduation, Mark was an usher at my wedding. After college, careers, and married life, soon to be parents, Beth and I attended Mark and Amy’s wedding in Boston. We then moved further away to Texas, but then moved back to Monroe Connecticut where I joked, I was then closer to Mark’s old house than when we lived in the same town. At that point I did not have any way to get in touch with old friends (pre-Facebook) but at least got to see Mark and Amy. We were able to meet up a couple times, in Rhode and Boston, until we moved to Maryland.

Beth and I moved back to Tennessee and Mark and I talked about him and Amy coming to visit. Sadly, that did happen.

Sadly, we drifted apart in our careers and life’s journeys but still managed to stay in touch. That being said, it all still seems like yesterday, and I will always cherish the great experiences and memories and laughter we had together. It's great to see how many other lives he touched.

Mark will always be a great part of my life, and our friendship will be forever.

Love you buddy.

Tom Engel

I rode with Mark when we both lived in Boston. We would ride the rail trail from Cambridge out to Lexington and then loop through Acton, Concord and Carlysle. Mark said I should ride the Pan Mass Challenge, to raise money for the Dana Farber Cancer Institute. At first, I was reluctant but in 1998 I rode with Mark in that year's PMC, from Sturbridge to Provincetown. The next year, Mark introduced me to Team Huckleberry, a group with a long history in the PMC. Team Huckleberry rides from the Massachusetts / New York state line the Friday before the PMC weekend. After my wife and I relocated to New York, I continued riding with Mark and the Hucks. Mark and I roomed together on Friday nights in Sturbridge and on Saturdays at the Mass Maritime Academy in Bourne through 2019. I loved riding with Mark in the Huckleberry paceline and was always impressed by his amazingly high cadence. Rest in peace, my friend.

The writing here already says it all. All I can add: As my thesis student he was more, into it in the best was, quickly a friend who went the three extra miles. The most fun I ever had teaching because he saw everything fresh and shared his joy.
Wow, so young.

I will always remember Mark (and Amy!) fondly from my days at the MFA with the Museum Council. We had so many fun times and Mark was a fantastic leader! Also, so grateful for his amazing PMC support and participation which makes such an impact on Dana-Farber patients and caregivers. Sending my deepest condolences, Erin

Mark was a good man. A good guy gone too soon. I knew him at the Harvard Graduate School of Design in the late 90's.

MEMORIES OF MARK
by Dave Steinfeld


How did we meet?

Some of the details are vague, but I know we met at Trumbull High in the early 80s. You were friends with Tom Engel. I had a crush on Pam Whitfield, who Tom was dating at the time. That’s how we met. The irony is that Pam quickly became irrelevant to both of us — but you and I have remained friends for more than 40 years.

I distinctly remember the two of us walking through the high school hall one afternoon while Tom and Pam were in the middle of an argument. We had been walking next to each other and talking, but suddenly realized that Tom and Pam were not about to move. At the last minute, without a word, we went around them — while they continued arguing — and then circled back together. I can still hear Pam saying, in her typically dramatic way, “I am in a state of mass hysteria!" while Engel looked on in confusion.

Another classic early memory: I was in the backyard one afternoon, shooting baskets, when you stopped by on your bicycle. (You were always an avid bike rider.) At one point, I said, “Nice bike” and you replied, “Thanks. It was my Bar Mitzvah present.” Up until that point, I hadn’t realized you were Jewish! Your surname wasn’t particularly ethnic and you were originally from South Carolina. I”m not even sure I knew that Jews existed there.

A bit later on, I left Connecticut to go to NYU. Unlike some of my friends from high school, you had no reservations about visiting me there. Many people from our town thought Manhattan was dangerous or “weird.” But you were always up for a new adventure and were especially enthusiastic about the city’s art museums. I enjoyed going to the MOMA with you because you could give me background on the artists without sounding pretentious.

Another memory — this one from one of the summers when we were back in Connecticut after the semester ended. We were in your car one evening, driving to a bar in Norwalk. You mentioned this great book that you were reading called The Fountainhead. As it turned out, I was reading the same book at the same time! Great minds think alike… Or maybe just college students. Anyway — that gave us a lot to talk about that night.

I have many other memories of your visits to New York City — but two stand out. One time, we were riding the subway and there was a middle aged woman sitting across from us alone. Initially, she looked totally normal. But at some point, she took out some sort of figurines, looked at them and smiled. A little time passed and she started fondling them, clutching them to her chest and rocking back and forth. Then she broke out into laughter, as if this was the funniest thing in the world. You and I sat there watching her, baffled.

The other memory that stands out was a little later — after I’d been out of college for a year or two. You came to visit me one summer. We went to a party at the home of Pamm Jackson, a woman I knew from The Black Women’s Playwriting Workshop (long story there!). It was surprising enough that I was invited since I didn’t know her all that well or for all that long. It was quite a hike from the Upper East Side, where I was living at the time, to the depths of Brooklyn where Pamm had a duplex apartment. Some of the details escape me but I remember it was one of those amazing, endless New York summer nights. At one point, we were on the roof of Pamm’s building, eating some sort of seaweed dish that she’d prepared. We were the only two white people at the party but, true to form, you were cool with that. We left Brooklyn sometime between 3 and 4am, took the subway back to my apartment (unthinkable now!) and got to sleep just as the sun was coming up.

Somewhere around that same time, I went to visit you in Tennessee (my only time there to date). You were in the final year of an intense five-year architectural program at UT Knoxville. I took a bus from Nashville, you met me and drove me to your place, where I dropped my bags. You then proceeded to give me a guided tour of the campus. We hadn’t been walking for more than 15 minutes when some guy rode by on a bike and the two of you exchanged greetings. “Who’s that?” I asked. “The other Jew on campus,” you said without missing a beat.

From the 90s on, we saw each other a bit less than we had in the 80s — but we always kept in touch. It was in the early 90s that you introduced me to the music of The Producers, an Atlanta power pop group that had actually been popular a decade earlier. I became a fan too and, many years later, interviewed their singer and bass player Kyle Henderson.

You settled in Boston, where you did very well. You worked in the field you loved (architecture) and met the woman you loved (Amy). I would visit Boston every now and then and you would still come to NYC on occasion. One memory that stands out is going with you and Amy to the Foundry Cafe in the East Village on another one of those classic Manhattan summer nights.

One of my last memories is from late summer of 2019 — the year before the world changed. You and Amy were in the city for the weekend. She had gone to a Broadway show — I think it was Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. You sat that one out and decided to come uptown and meet me for dinner instead on what was a very rainy night. I remember being a little nervous. We’d gone a record number of years without seeing each other, our lives were very different than they once were and America was very different than it was when we’d met. What if we didn’t have much to talk about?

I needn’t have worried. As it turns out, there was so much to talk about that it was hard fitting all of it into one evening! We met at a great little Italian restaurant and spent several hours there talking about everything under the sun: high school memories, politics, the arts, dogs, our careers, my recent heart attack, your son Nathan (who was about to begin college) and other things. It was the longest and most open conversation we’d had in years. At the end of the night, you picked up the check and told me you loved me. I told you I loved you back. I’m so glad we met that night and that we were able to tell each other that. Too often, men don’t say it.

That part hasn’t changed, Mark. The world may have changed and we have certainly gone through our respective hardships in recent years. But we’re still friends, I still love you and I wish you a very happy 60th birthday.

Your buddy,
Dave

"His was a soul of pure kindness" - there have never been truer words. We had such great times with Mark - visits to the cape, vacations at Sanibel, cheering him on during his PMC rides, exploring Iceland, endless intellectual conversations, and so much more. His kindness, his intellect, his creativity, his curiosity, his complete love for Amy and Nathaniel! He was simply a good human being, someone I admired and will miss greatly. He lived too short a life, but he lived it right.

I know that Mark’s memory will be a blessing. Sending love to Amy and Nathaniel.

So sorry for your loss, Amy, Nathan, Rosie, and family. Mark and Amy introduced us to the Athaneum and we attended fun events there together. We also enjoyed going to lovely restaurants and cultural events in Boston, and going on group vacations to Aspen and Nantucket. We have such fond memories of times we spent with them. (Pictures are from our wedding; see separate post from Steve with pictures from riding the Pan Mass Challenge with Mark for more than 20 years.)

Mark was one of a kind--fun, funny, smart, loving, generous, and kind. So many wonderful memories of times spent together with Mark, Nathaniel and Amy--this picture is of Mark, Nathaniel, Amy, and Jiao at Lego Land in 2010. So much love to Amy and Nathaniel. Mark will be sorely missed. xoxo