Mason Pierce Reid
May 21, 1997 – January 16, 2021
It’s been one year without Mason Pierce Reid. As Mason would say this is “stupendously awful” for those of us he left behind, and he’d probably have a song to sing because he loved to finish a sentence with a lyric, something unexpected, like “Don’t stop believin’ hold onto that feelin’…”
Mason laughed a lot. There is a collection of Stephen Colbert’s Late Show on the DVR because we haven’t been able to watch it since January 16, 2021. But we can’t delete the recordings either. Meeting Stephen was Mason’s wish from Make a Wish. His first choice was to throw a shoe at George W. Bush (because that was a thing in Iraq War years.) He chose his favorite political comedian instead. And we all laughed together.
Mason didn’t have patience for politicians or anyone else who disregarded the value of his fellow human beings. Probably because he knew how fragile we ultimately are, how tender our brains and bodies. He knew what it was like to live with ache, threat and for no deserving reason have one’s life transplanted onto unstable ground.
He was diagnosed with a brain tumor when he was 10. He would want you to know he had chemo, radiation and 14 surgeries between then until he turned 23 in hospice. He once said, “I don’t need tattoos. If I’m not tough, how did I get so many scars?” There were many that marked the constellation of his short, sacred life.
He was an artist who drew his way back from a near fatal brain hemorrhage in 2010, filling one blank notebook after another with fine-lined, geometric drawings. His paintings were featured in several shows. Mason attended Fusion Academy in San Rafael, and three proms. He also attended College of Marin. He was a lifelong member of the Sunday School at St Andrew Presbyterian Church in Marin City, and a volunteer at the Southern Marin Food Pantry. He most loved his time at UCLA. We will never forget pulling up in front of Mason’s apartment to find him waving - six feet, two inches of baby blue and yellow, hat to socks.
Mason loved to walk around our neighborhood. He greeted everyone, genuinely happy to come upon them. He looked at people the way God might, seeing essential goodness and always offering a kind word. Most remarkable were his friendships and how he touched other people. He had a wide open heart. In what would be his last years, he created at Cedar’s Fine Art Studios where he enjoyed his time among other artists, thrilled to sell his work and achieve status as a working artist.
People often write of “losing the battle with cancer,” but Mason didn’t lose. He died of cancer AND he won at life, no matter the odds, despite how hard it was every day. Right before he left us, I asked him to tell me something, anything, he wanted me to know. He hummed, “Love, love, love, love” as in “all you need is love.”
Today in memory of Mason Reid - find a reason to laugh with someone else, play your favorite song (extra loud) and dance.