Three weeks ago today I received a text from someone who’s been known to make some pretty questionable jokes. The text said that Pelham Mayor Marvin Junkin’s son Zach had died unexpectedly and included some details. My first reaction was to scoff, even to be irritated that something so dark could be considered funny.
But then I reconsidered the source, and read it again, and again, and did the calculus, and realized that this wasn’t a joke, that it was shockingly genuine, and all of this ran through my mind in the space of, maximum, 15 seconds.
Zach was 38, married with one child and another on the way, living near Sarnia. His wife and daughter were up north at her family’s cottage that weekend. Not hearing from Zach for an unusually long period she asked a friend to stop by their house. The doors were unlocked and the friend found Zach on the kitchen floor, the refrigerator door open from his putting away the groceries he’d picked up on the way home. Later his cellphone was found still in his pocket, the expression on his face untroubled. Whatever felled him did it almost instantly, the only part of this tragedy that’s...well, that’s not a silver lining, but at least not relentlessly horrible.
Whatever felled him. As of this writing still unknown. It may never be known. Nothing obvious was found by the coroner. Apart from a general feeling of unwellness that had come and gone months earlier, Zach was to all appearances in excellent health.
Three weeks later, the reality still hasn’t entirely sunk in, if I’m being completely candid. I’m sure the same is true for many of Zach’s friends and family. Maybe it’s some long con, maybe it’s some crazy insurance scheme, maybe it’s...magical thinking. It’s our human need to wrestle order out of chaos. A psychological defense against the incomprehensible, and it doesn’t get any more senseless than an inexplicable young death.
Zach was editor of the Voice of Pelham for just under 18 months, and that’s where I first met him, in early 2016, when I was initially hired on the marketing side. There was much drama at the paper over the 12 months prior to my arrival, the soap opera specifics of which don’t need rehashing here. Suffice it to say that the existing editorial staff weren’t happy with a new boss and they up and quit one day in early 2015. (Hearing the details later on, I can’t say I blame them; on the other hand bailing with zero notice was below the belt.)
In any case, the manager they rebelled against was acquainted with Zach, then in his early 30s, and knew that he had received a communications degree from the University of Waterloo, which was plenty enough qualification to write for a rural weekly newspaper. Zach had also grown up in Pelham, on the family dairy farm, and made a long-shot run for mayor in 2014, so he was well acquainted with the lay of the local land and current issues.
While the Voice's board of directors and the manager eventually decided to part ways, his influence on the newspaper’s direction, and on Zach as its editor, was indelible. It’s fair to say that there was a pre-Zach Voice, and a post-Zach Voice. The newspaper before 2015 was by and large a friendly newsletter, an upbeat booster of all-things-Pelham, with rarely a critical note sounded. By the time Zach left for greener (and far-better-paying) pastures and I took over as editor later in 2016, we had managed to aggravate nearly all of the town’s self-appointed community leaders, and its actual elected leaders. Not deliberately, just by moving beyond stenography to actually reporting news with a critical, prove-it-to-us eye, minus pastel graphics.
This may come across as uncharitable to previous editors. We all have our styles and preferences, and there’s room for all sorts of news reporting. Readers, too, have their comfort zones. For every five or six readers who appreciated the Voice’s newly energized investigative bent, there were always one or two who lamented what they saw as the paper’s impolite, impertinent challenges to the status quo. (These tended to be members of the status quo.)
Zach’s politics were right, mine are left. But that didn’t get in the way of a cordial relationship. At the paper we agreed on more than we disagreed on, particularly when it came to the town council and mayor of the day and the perilous financial road they were barrelling down, we hapless taxpayer-passengers white-knuckling it in the back of the bus.
Zach moved on to good jobs at Sun Life Financial and recently at Oracle. Along the way he also managed to become a professional Mixed Martial Arts fighter (his transformation from slightly doughy to fightin’ trim was impressive) and he took a stab at stand-up comedy.
In fact, Zach’s sense of humour could be deliciously sharp, especially when it came to puncturing inflated egos and calling out hypocrisy. This was particularly handy when I introduced our April 1 stories in 2017. Each year since then, with the exception of the first year of the pandemic, the Voice and then PelhamToday have run satirical “news” items on this most foolish of fools’ days. These have largely been group efforts, with Zach’s contributions always the tastiest cherries on top, delivered late at the end of March by email and text, true joys to open and discover.
On September 30 there will be a Celebration of Life for Zach at the MCC, details to follow but starting in the early evening and going until midnight. Food, drink, memories, tears, and I hope a lot of laughs. Life goes on for the living, as it always does, yet diminished, as it always is, by the loss of another part of our hearts, to the point of heartbreak for many. (By one of those coincidences delivered by the universe, this week’s column by Michael Coren addresses the grief of losing a loved one, and is well worth the read.)
There is a GoFundMe for the benefit of Zach’s widow, Brooke, and their family. Any contribution welcome.
As if we need any more reminding these days, life is short and can be taken from us without warning or rationale. Enjoy and appreciate it, and your loved ones, to the fullest extent you're able.
