1980-2006my heart, my soul, my everything
the news.
our story, as read on september 04, 2006.
" Karen and I met in first grade, we were both six. I don’t remember meeting her; she has just been in my life for as far as I can remember. You have to understand that she is my historian. I call her to verify my past experiences. Considering this, it is an impressive feat that I do have some memories of our childhood to share.
In second grade, we pretended to be drunk while walking home from a field trip to a pizza place. We played witches instead of house and chased a boy named Winston around the playground. I have an indelible image of the two of us sharing one burnt orange jacket with a fur fringe hood. Her arm in one sleeve, mine in the other, plastered together like Siamese twins.
In fifth grade, kids teased us and called us the Karen & Tracy Show. We not so secretly were proud of the fact that we were inseparable.
High school saw us through silly crushes and first loves. Her house was our hub and I remember we would always gather there for pool parties and just hanging out.
She and I moved toBerkeley
Even growing up together I never fully became aware of the permanence of her presence in my life until one night we went out trying to cheer ourselves up from recent breakups. We ended up crying in each others arms in the car and falling asleep wrapped together.
We watched each other grow into women. We have distinct personalities yet we share the same thought processes, the same essence. Inevitably, one would say “You know, I was just thinking some random & inappropriate thought.” And the other would chime, “Oh my gosh, me too!” And, Karen would always know how to make sense of the jumbles in my head. She’d know the right words to say, “Tell him, blah, blah, blah,” as if she was my script writer.
Our conversations didn’t consist only of talking about boys and relationships. We also discussed and debated topics in politics, philosophy, sociology, current events, biology, ethics, celebrity gossip and Star Trek, our fears and secret desires.
As I listened to friends tell story after story of Karen’s selflessness Wednesday night, I made an effort to recall a time where Karen acted for her own selfish, self-interest. Nada. I got nothing. Only times when I was selfish and benefited from her.
For those of you who may have not known Karen as intimately, she’s the slightly awkward when you first meet her. Quiet at first, but once you get her talking. It’s a flood of fast-talking, random trivia, inquisitive questions, silly musings, and laughter.
When you look at the two of us together, I think that from the outside it seems like I’m the stronger of us two. She seems reserved, quiet; she was moving towards a career, stability, buying a house & creating permanence. I’m a bit more outgoing; I take higher risks & lead a life of “adventure” moving and traveling from place to place. In reality, I couldn’t have done any of that without her strength and confidence behind me. I knew that no matter what happened to me out in the crazy world she would be there to save me, to pick up my pieces, to love me. I could do anything because she believed in me.
I call Karen my best friend, but that’s not really true. She is not my soul mate either. This woman is as much an influence on who I am as my mother and father. She is my conscience, my heart, my mind. Karen is my everything.
For the last 2.5 years we’ve been living in different cities. Our friendship has been near daily phone calls, & photo exchanges, and of course chatting online incessantly. She’s become this voice in my head. The last time I heard her voice we were singing Peter, Paul, & Mary songs to each other until we fell asleep. I have her in me, with every fiber, I feel her with me.
On Saturday, I was to fly to San Diego to get a glimpse of her new life, finally, her new adventure. We were going to celebrate our 20th anniversary. Twenty years of friendship. And here's to twenty more."
In second grade, we pretended to be drunk while walking home from a field trip to a pizza place. We played witches instead of house and chased a boy named Winston around the playground. I have an indelible image of the two of us sharing one burnt orange jacket with a fur fringe hood. Her arm in one sleeve, mine in the other, plastered together like Siamese twins.
In fifth grade, kids teased us and called us the Karen & Tracy Show. We not so secretly were proud of the fact that we were inseparable.
High school saw us through silly crushes and first loves. Her house was our hub and I remember we would always gather there for pool parties and just hanging out.
She and I moved to
Even growing up together I never fully became aware of the permanence of her presence in my life until one night we went out trying to cheer ourselves up from recent breakups. We ended up crying in each others arms in the car and falling asleep wrapped together.
We watched each other grow into women. We have distinct personalities yet we share the same thought processes, the same essence. Inevitably, one would say “You know, I was just thinking some random & inappropriate thought.” And the other would chime, “Oh my gosh, me too!” And, Karen would always know how to make sense of the jumbles in my head. She’d know the right words to say, “Tell him, blah, blah, blah,” as if she was my script writer.
Our conversations didn’t consist only of talking about boys and relationships. We also discussed and debated topics in politics, philosophy, sociology, current events, biology, ethics, celebrity gossip and Star Trek, our fears and secret desires.
As I listened to friends tell story after story of Karen’s selflessness Wednesday night, I made an effort to recall a time where Karen acted for her own selfish, self-interest. Nada. I got nothing. Only times when I was selfish and benefited from her.
For those of you who may have not known Karen as intimately, she’s the slightly awkward when you first meet her. Quiet at first, but once you get her talking. It’s a flood of fast-talking, random trivia, inquisitive questions, silly musings, and laughter.
When you look at the two of us together, I think that from the outside it seems like I’m the stronger of us two. She seems reserved, quiet; she was moving towards a career, stability, buying a house & creating permanence. I’m a bit more outgoing; I take higher risks & lead a life of “adventure” moving and traveling from place to place. In reality, I couldn’t have done any of that without her strength and confidence behind me. I knew that no matter what happened to me out in the crazy world she would be there to save me, to pick up my pieces, to love me. I could do anything because she believed in me.
I call Karen my best friend, but that’s not really true. She is not my soul mate either. This woman is as much an influence on who I am as my mother and father. She is my conscience, my heart, my mind. Karen is my everything.
For the last 2.5 years we’ve been living in different cities. Our friendship has been near daily phone calls, & photo exchanges, and of course chatting online incessantly. She’s become this voice in my head. The last time I heard her voice we were singing Peter, Paul, & Mary songs to each other until we fell asleep. I have her in me, with every fiber, I feel her with me.
On Saturday, I was to fly to San Diego to get a glimpse of her new life, finally, her new adventure. We were going to celebrate our 20th anniversary. Twenty years of friendship. And here's to twenty more."
