When I was in Grade 9, Darlene Brownell asked me if I watched The X-Files.
The Film Music Society
It was one of those lazy first days for us freshmen. We were all from different feeder schools, still getting used to each other. I think it was English class, and our teacher, Miss Madill, was somewhere. I can’t remember where. She would always stroll into class wearing vinyl Umbro pants, since she also taught gym, her frizzy, long hair tied up with a scrunchie.
Looking back, that whole Umbro tracksuit vibe was a subculture in itself — usually worn by kids who played volleyball or soccer. They’d unzip their jackets to reveal Overkill T-shirts underneath. Volleyball was a big deal at Anderson in Whitby.
But Darlene wasn’t one of those kids. This was 1993, and post-grunge was very much alive. She probably wore 10-eye Doc Martens, a baggy sweater and a dark, flowery dress underneath.
Somehow, the topic of ghosts and the paranormal came up. Probably because one of the talkative students — the type who called every young teacher “Miss” — was chatting us all up. If I recall, that was Shannon Watt. She was chatty. She asked me straight up if I believed in ghosts. Of course, I did at the time. And that’s what led to Darlene’s question.
And for me, hearing that there was a new TV show on Fox that echoed my interest in the unknown? Uncanny. It was September 1993, and as soon as I heard that theme song, I was hooked. I have a pretty good memory, and when something grabs your attention like that — your soon-to-be favourite show — it becomes a core memory. To borrow from Inside Out.
Mark Snow captured us all with that eerie whistle. Catchy, intriguing and, above all else, alluring. I missed the first two episodes of The X-Files, so I jumped in with Episode 3: “Squeeze.” My mom watched it with me, and we were immediately hungry for more. Not liver — but you know, more episodes.
My dad would always shake his head and call us weird, but I guess that’s how I bonded with my mom — over paranormal pop culture.
Snow died on July 4, and it just felt like another blow. The day before, I’d learned Michael Madsen had passed away. I loved him in Reservoir Dogs and the two Kill Bill films. It seems to come in waves as the Boomers make their inevitable march off this mortal coil.
In my reporting on the paranormal, I’ve seen this trend again and again. Gen Xers and Millennials moonlighting as investigators, horror hounds, talking heads or general enthusiasts — they all have The X-Files to thank for that continued pursuit of the truth.
Now, sure, Snow’s death doesn’t have the same weight as if David Duchovny or Gillian Anderson, or even William B. Davis or Mitch Pileggi, had passed. But Snow was our first introduction to the show. That kick in the gut that pulled us in as 1990s teens. Mulder and Scully did their thing after the opening credits — battling conspiracies and shadowy bad actors like the Smoking Man, Deep Throat, X, Krycek and the Well-Manicured Man.
Thank you for the memories, Mark Snow.
Thank you for being a touchstone of paranormal pop culture.