Godspeed, My Friend

I’ve just arrived at the jumping off point for the dream trip of my life – Antarctica. Certainly more is coming on that, but I arrived at my hotel in Ushuaia (where I’ll catch my boat) and opened up messages and found out that my friend Lisa had died.

I met Lisa when she was 17 and I was 14. I was a high school freshman and she was a senior in a class full of people I admired. First of all, they were all nice to me – not the stereotypical seniors against the lowly freshmen that is a trope in many a movie, book, and TV show.

Instead they were smart, they were quirky, they were unique, and they were accepting. Those I know now still are.

Lisa and I lost touch after high school, me living in different places and not being around my hometown much, and she finding her place as a librarian at our public library. We got re-acquainted when I moved back to town.

She was a children’s librarian and I always reminded her of the precious impact of that role. Her predecessor had encouraged my love of reading and my love of libraries. Lisa did the same for several generations of children and adults.

We had the same high school English teacher, Flo Gainey, a woman who made a special reading list for each student in AP English. Our lists must have been similar. We both developed a massive love for Sylvia Plath. It makes me laugh a bit now – why in the world would someone make Sylvia Plath a role model for teenaged girls? But it worked for us. The drama and the angst – we both read everything she had written and much of what others had written about her. Even in these later years we still talked about her work – and Mrs. Gainey’s insight of knowing what would compel us to read.

Lisa was not a strong extrovert, but yet she was everywhere and enjoyed the attention she got. Everyone in town seemed to know her. She enjoyed holding court – it fit into her Gatsby life. She’d sit there and people would come up to her and remind her of a memory or just say hello. She’d light up. Lisa loved “The Great Gatsby” and I always teased her about living in that world.

Lisa gave herself birthday parties each year – several. Sometimes more than several. I had to finally tell her to only invite me to one, because that’s all I would attend for anyone (yes, I’m that friend). It drove me crazy at first. My birthday was the day after hers – and I never would give myself a party. She even invited me to a party for her on my own birthday one year. I went, because I wasn’t doing anything. 😂

I grew to admire her doing that – why shouldn’t we invite our nearest and dearest to celebrate our birthdays as much as possible? Many of us don’t have people in our lives who do it for us and have spent some lonely birthdays in the process. Celebrating the fact we were born is a precious thing – or should be. I’m still not great at it. Still I’ll always lift my glass to her at that time of year and remember her. She gave me enough reminders.

Lisa loved my family and always told me how great they are. She was right. My family loved Lisa, too. All of the generations. She often came to family events – usually sitting quietly and just observing. Truth is my family is loud and it takes a lot of experience to get a few words in. But she loved the conversations she had with all of them and then loved seeing my great nieces and nephews come into the library with their parents. They never failed to look for Ms. Lisa.

Lisa ate most meals out – she said she couldn’t cook. I argued with her about that, she was smart and capable after all, but she was not having that. She was beloved in the restaurant community because she championed them. She chose to stick firm to that lifestyle and got a lot of pleasure out of it, It was nice having a friend to eat with when you wanted to go out.

Lisa also championed all that was going on around town. She loved everything Keith did at the Sharpe House (because he is a master entertainer and was a dear friend of hers) and was a regular at most arts events. The picture above was one of my favorite I took of her – I snapped it as she was ready to go into one of Keith’s teas. I’ll miss going to events with her.

It was a tough last year for her. She had a car accident that raised fears in her about driving. She told the insurance carrier she didn’t want a rental car because she was afraid to drive it. I knew Lisa was not ready to stop driving – she liked to go too much and while many of us would have given her rides, we couldn’t have met all her desires. I made her order that rental car and took her to get it and drove around with her for a while to get comfortable. She was a champ. She saw she was able to do it. She usually didn’t drive far, but she drove often. She was ready to take herself to many more events. While sometimes she didn’t mind being dependent, that independent spirit would keep rising up.

Lessons I’ve learned from Lisa:

• Make yourself at home in this world – because it is your home. Ignore those who want to make you a stranger.
• Celebrate yourself – don’t wait for others to send out the invitations.
• Be confident in your own style. Show who you are to the world.
• Be stubborn in your choices. You are living your own life and while you can listen to the advice of others, you never have to take it.

Here’s the last Facebook comment I got from Lisa – it had to be hours before her death. She knew I was headed on this adventure I had dreamed of for 40 years.

There’s a certain perfection in that, isn’t it? Godspeed, Lisa McBroom. I love you, friend.