Council weekend started like most others that I’ve attended over the past year. Per Diem checks. People checking for transportation. Mac and Cheese bites from Sheetz for the drive to U-Park. An hour long E-Board conference call. By the time I got back to campus on Sunday, my head was ripping my brain apart.
It was no surprise to me, even from my first experience at council, that my brother was an important figure- an integral gear to the inner workings of the Commonwealth. At the Summer Leadership Conference, another commonwealth President spoke of a title: “one of the ‘Power Five”, she called him. I remember smiling when I first heard it. My brother- a notorious figure.
People approached him throughout the first weekend. They hugged him vigorously, or bent his ear on some topic. Mark always listened with that intent gaze pointed slightly downward, ear pointed to the problem, the way I’d seen my father do it a million times.
Most council members respected his opinion. They’ve also learned to fear it when their ideas were on the chopping block. Mark asks the tough questions and makes the challenges hard when sitting at the council table. He puts his personal reputation aside and focuses on one thing when others whisper and look at him- the commonwealth.
Over a year of meetings, a year of caucuses, a year of roll calls and motions and legislations and debates… I’ve seen it all. Or thought I had anyway. Mark and a president from New Kensington were working on a piece of legislation. It was borne from another impromptu discussion outside of Heritage Hall, where Council is held. We stood and talked about an issue for almost an hour before someone said “Let’s go do it”. Mark and a few others got to it.
Sitting in a second floor conference room in the HUB, I looked up through the windows to the floor above. A gang of Central Staff members rounded the corner above me, heading for the CCSG office. The looks on their faces was intent. I knew something was wrong.
During the last Student Affairs breakout of the day, Mark and several of the presidents were engaged in a heated debate about their pre-drafted legislation. Amanda Davin, the CCSG Vice President, entered the room silently and bent down to a few members. Mark, Ben and Gabby left the room quickly without saying a word. The rest of us looked on and could only surmise.
Council was to reconvene at 4:10 pm and the clock on the front table read 4:40 pm. The gallery was silently abuzz. The Presidents had been meeting for over an hour in private. Then, without warning, they all filed in. None of their faces were jovial or even relaxed. Mark took his seat next to me in silence.
I’ve lived beside my twin for almost thirty years, and an unspoken communication lingers between us. We speak without speaking, or even trying at times. I could tell Mark was tense. He wasn’t listening to the things going on around him while he scratched quick notes on the back of an agenda. “Are you OK?”, I asked. He lifted his head a bit and looked at me peripherally, talking a calming breath. “I’m fine”, he whispered. I knew better.
Business pressed on and Open Forum came. Mark raised his hand, a bit shaky. “The Chair recognizes the Gentleman from Wilkes-Barre”, an amplified voice spoke. What he said at first is still vague in my mind, but I remember the last part vividly: “So it is with great reluctance that I motion for the impeachment of President Borsuk.” My face became electric. Not because I was in any danger, but I could feel the currency from the man next to me. The room was immediately silent. Over one hundred people uttered neither a word, nor a throat clearing. All eyes were on Mark, while his eyes were fighting back the raw emotion that’d made its way through his voice into the stiff air that lingered above us. I watched the faces of those around the room. They shared Mark’s place…somewhere in a sorrowful limbo. I put my hand on his back, wishing it could help.
The discussion enveloped us for another hour once Nick had left the room. The allegation was “A culture of disrespect. Behavior not befitting the position.” Staff members had vowed to leave, even though there was only one Council Weekend remaining. One of our own had fallen… and hard. It came down to a secret ballot vote. 26 for; 6 against.
Back in the hotel room, Mark was still tense. “You did the Right thing”, I tried to reassure. “I know.”, he spoke uncertainly.
There are moments in our lives where I’ve followed in Mark’s steps. Yet, this is one where I doubt I could have. It’s clear to me, now, that most of the Presidents felt the same when they entered the room. Any one of them could have made that motion, but they left all of its weight- the weight of the implications, the weight of choosing between friendship and Duty on one person…a person who speaks with integrity when he says “For the Commonwealth.”
When it’s your turn to lead, when it’s your turn to choose between one or the other, when you meet your time to face a difficult decision, I pray you do so with the stalwart conviction and broad shoulders that I’ve seen in Mark.
