Dave: Who would be your celeb eff?
Me: Easy. Ira Glass.
Dave: Public radio celebs don't count, Bodaface.
Me: Who would yours be?
Dave: Tom Selleck
Me: Too late. I've already had Tom Selleck. What about Duffy?
Dave: Duffy my roommate?
Me: Yes. I'm sure he is famous in some circles.
Dave: No.
The point of this blog post, which started out being something completely different, is I disparately miss my friends, Catherine and Kate, who have both left Chicago, and me. One was married off and taken to a faraway land. The other turned into an American Penguin and now teaches english to little children in a place I can't really even imagine. Thank God for Wikipedia.
This week, Kate resent me an old blog post she wrote...about me. She is a girl I met when I was a sophomore or junior in college and is someone I've always considered a sister. In life, I am usually thought of as being the most unusual or quirky (or some other adjective I hate) that said person knows. Kate tops me. She is bigger and twirlier and braver. She makes me better and dream grander. Kate reminds me that life is short and if I don't take the time to read great literature or sit in a coffee house discussing silliness or make up songs on a guitar after I've had 6 bottles of wine and outstayed my welcome at a Thankgiving dinner - I might forget what it's like. "It" being the excitement and passion awarded to a lucky few in adulthood. I miss her. I hope she swims back soon.
Catherine. Oh, Catherine. She was a lucky find. We worked together in a terrible terrible place and bonded over Chili's chips and salsa and margaritas. We both got laid off on the same day and grew closer over meals of animal crackers and stolen booze. After she left the city last August to marry a wonderful guy, she also wrote a little blog post about me. Well, it is not really about me so much as her experience in Chicago, which I just so happened to be a large part of. What was so great about Catherine is that she taught me the beauty of being silent, to listen, something that is very difficult for me with my long crazy stories and love of whiskey. What you miss when you are surrounded by noise and flashing lights, either yours or others, are the small, quieter parts of life's beauty - the smell of communion bread, the knowledge gained from listening to others thoughtful perspectives, the silent love shown by actions a daughter can express for her mother and siblings. She has been gone for about 6 months - almost a third of the time we actually knew each other - and I'm starting to lose some of the memories. What I'm left with when I think of her is that really good feeling you get right when you wake-up in the morning after having an amazing dream. The feeling something really great just happened, but you're not sure exactly what. I will never forget the most important things - john slattery, animal crackers, warm CBJ, dog sitting, talks of vampires, crying at her wedding reception, etc. - but most importantly, I will never forget the person I got to be in my early twenties because I met her.
After rereading this post
1)I sort of made Catherine sound dead or like a nun. She is neither. Catherine and I got into our own share of trouble - she wasn't all silent thoughts and communion bread. Just felt I needed to point that out.
2)Dave isn't gay and his roommate isn't famous.
Posts
