For Mak

The sky opened, a clap of thunder shaking my house and the rain pouring down so fast and hard that I couldn't even see through it.  The sky had been growing dark for a while, that ominous spring grey that precedes these types of downpours.  It was the most fitting piece of weather I've ever seen.

There are some things in this world that make no sense.  When one of my best friends called in March to say his daughter had a brain tumor, that was one of those senseless things.  When I read the message that she had passed on, "Heaven gained an angel yesterday. Our hearts are broken. There are no words, no measure for how deeply you will be missed", and saw her adorable little face, I starting crying, and fell onto the couch in a heap.  Her name was Makenzie, and she was nine years old.

I've known her since we moved back east seven years ago.  The first time I met her, it was to give her a Dora the Explorer themed birthday present.  She was a somewhat shy little girl, skinny, but once she warmed to you, she had a smile that could make everything seem right.

Her daddy Teddy is one of my best friends.  He and my husband played lacrosse together in high school, got stuck at my house in a blizzard, and in the summer, the two of them took me pool hopping when I was 17.  He's a free spirit with a huge laugh, a wicked sense of humor, and loves his daughter more than his own life.

To say he beams when he speaks of her would be like saying the sun simply shines.  He calls her "Monkey", "Munchkin", "Chunkers".  His stories of her inevitably amount to laughter and pride, the kind only a parent can produce.

One of my favorites is one he told us as a warning when my daughter started to talk.  "They'll repeat anything," he said, his eyes getting wider as he crossed his arms, then pulled them open.  "When Makenzie was a two, we were driving to the supermarket, and some asshole cut me off at a light.  So I said 'fuckin' tool'.  Well, we do our shopping, and we're about to get in line, when someone cuts in front of us.  And I hear this little voice from my cart say 'fuckin' tool'."  His eyes were shining at the punchline, laughing as he said "I didn't know whether to be proud, or you know, just walk away, because that lady was giving me a look…"

Another time, he was so excited about how much she looked up to him.  And she DID.  This child was a daddy's girl if ever there was one.  She had fallen asleep in his arms on the couch, and he, as parents try to, took a nap while she napped.  He was almost giddy, telling us that when he woke up, she was snuggled in the exact same spot in his arms.  The only thing was, she'd taken a sharpie and copied the designs of his tribal arm tattoos onto her tiny arms in the black ink- AND mimicked his goatee and mustache on her face with the same.  "Her mother was NOT happy when I brought her back that night," he said, laughing.

I find it hard to believe this lively, funny, creative child is no longer a part of our world.  We are saying goodbye to her today in what will rank as one of the worst days in the lives of all those who knew her.  There's strength in numbers, and for the last several days, we have been rallying around each other, sharing notes of love and loss.  It's so cliche to say no parent should have to bury a child, but it's true.

Today, we saw her father, who we all love, for the first time, and there are no words to express the depth of the pain we feel for him.  There were too many tears, people gripping onto each other, hoping that the physical contact would somehow squeeze away some of the pain.  There were parents, children, relatives, and her little troop of Girl Scouts, all wearing their sashes in solidarity and carrying yellow flowers in their hands.  At the end, there was the release of balloons into the sky, and bubbles blown after them by her friends, a final gift up to heaven.  

As a parent, you want to see your children grow, be strong, and happy.   My heart aches for his loss, for his girlfriend, Mak's "Stelle", who has been a second mom to her for the last several years, and for Makenzie's little brother, Krane, due in three weeks, who will only know his big sister as a legend.  I'm grieving for her mother, stepfather, her toddler brother Philip, and all who loved her as well.  But we'll be sure to tell Krane what a fighter she was, about her spirit and her laugh, and through videos, pictures, and lots and lots of love, we'll try to make him understand.

We love you, Monkey.  You'll always be here in our hearts.

Makenzie's Obituary: http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/njherald/obituary.aspx?n=makenzie-florence-hooke&pid=171225741&fhid=12098&FBNF=ShareObitAt#.U49N9drVilQ.facebook

In lieu of flowers, the family requests that memorial donations may be made to the Heroes for Makenzie Fund. The website is https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/0h84/heroes-for-makenzie

The Bad Girl's Guide to the Open Road

It started with two words: "Say yes."

She'd known me a long time- about 15 years- and knew something was brewing.

There are times in life that you need your best friend to just go along with whatever crazy, cockamayme, fly by the seat of your pants idea you've come up with.  When the person you've been seeing on and off for the last four years decides to go "find himself" in New Zealand and Australia, when your sports career, which has been everything to you for the last decade, is over because of a knee injury, when you are about to enter your final semester of college because you are graduating early (since you can't stand the school you're attending)- this is the time.

And Ali knew this.  She also knew enough to ask, "Oh god- to what?"

"Just say yes," I pleaded, twisting the cord for the phone in my hand, and looking at my buddy Howie (who years later would become my stepbrother) leaning back behind his desk at Elektra Records, home of my summer internship.

I could hear an audible sigh through the phone, and pictured Ali in her kitchen, rolling her eyes at the four-eyed hanging metal chef mobile above her mother's stove, then closing them in resignation.  This is how we'd ended up attempting to build a house out of sticks in our woods when we were about eight, at Woodstock '99, at Phish's Millenium Show in Florida, and finally, hosting a roughly 200 person Memorial Day party a few months earlier.

"Yes," she said.  Then quickly followed with, "What did I just agree to?"

"We're going on a road trip," I said, hopping from one foot to the other, positively giddy.

Alexandra (something I think I may have called her twice) met me when I moved to town in first grade, and we were "set up" on a play date by a mutual friend.   Our initial interaction consisted of me pulling open the heavy, antique wooden door at the front of my house, only to be overshadowed by my 13 year old dog, Alice, who squirmed around me.  This caused Ali to emit a high pitched shriek (as only small humans can), wrap her arms around my somewhat bewildered pet, and shout, "It's a DOG!"

Eventually, Ali released Alice, and we went inside.  We've been inseparable ever since.

We bring out the best in each other- she is creative, brilliant, and studious.  I'm adventurous, spontaneous, and reckless.  She's more sensitive, I'm more outspoken.  I think I'd be the Thelma to her Louise.

The only two girls at Coolidge Elementary School in WEL (the special gifted and talented town-wide program), we bonded over bus rides with our Lincoln Elementary counterparts (also all boys), figuring out brain teasers, and the lyrics to "We Didn't Start The Fire".  Not only did we play sports at recess, but we were among the first picks, always.   We drummed on our lunch boxes (hers often contained Spaghettios and Doritos, and mine was inhabited by a peanut butter and jelly sandwiches), and made up silly songs, like "Hairspray" (sung to the music of "Losing My Religion- this is another story).  We won badminton tournaments, and had the co-leads in our sixth grade play, State Fair.  We shared crushes and notes, played endless rounds of  MASH (Mansion, Apartment, Shack, House), and went pool hopping with boys in our teens.

We traveled to Paris together at 16 (she was going; as a result, I shelved my fear of flying and being homesick, and hopped across the ocean with her and our French class), and walked at graduation together- receiving our diplomas simultaneously.

In college, we chalked our driver's licenses, using cut out newsprint, clear packing tape, and water in her dorm sink.  I instigated a trip to a NYC strip club with her and a couple of other decade-long friends on a Sunday night in January, right before she drove back to school.  When my dad died two days later, she flew back from Georgetown to spend the week with me, and didn't leave my side unless I was sleeping.  Years later, she would give a "Best Friend Of The Bride" speech at my wedding.

So here, closing in on the final summer before "real life", she was the person I turned to for one last, great college adventure in August of 2000.

After her "yes", we had some planning to do.  She had a week that would work, and we set about to mapping out a plan.  With only 7 days, we knew we could only really get halfway across the country, so New Orleans became our destination of choice.  Beyond that, it was whatever roads we wanted, a mix CD of tunes about the road, and The Bad Girl's Guide to the Open Road by Cameron Tuttle (our Bible for the trip).

We started off driving as quickly as we could out of Jersey, stopping at rest stops for Subway sandwiches, water bottles, and pee breaks.  Pennsylvania was also of little interest, except for the obligatory photo with the state sign.  We hit our stride in Virginia, traveling down Interstate I-81 through the Blue Ridge Mountains.  Curving with the land, we watched the sun seep through the leaves above us.  We stopped in the Shenandoah Valley, at The Natural Bridge, a gorgeous hike down along a river that eventually ends at a massive natural rock bridge.  At one point on our trek, admiring the towering cliffs and clear water to the side of us, Ali turned to me, and said "The only thing that would make the rock formation more perfect would be Heath Ledger, riding in on a dark horse, to sweep us away to freedom."

Throughout the trip, we jotted down witty observations ( "Just saw a bumper sticker that said 'The more I learn about Northerners, the more I wonder why we lost the war'- YIKES!"and "wore empowering Davy Crocket head gear"), aliases (Layla and Loretta Lyn in the early states), and mileage traveled.  There we quotes, like "I have weird, scarecrow-like formations on me" (Ali, after a trek into high grass for a photo op), and notes about embracing country music as our new life soundtrack (we knew every word of The Watermelon Crawl by the time we hit Alabama).

We managed (completely by accident) to coincide our visit to Graceland with the anniversary of the week Elvis died, and saw no fewer than eight fully costumed Elvises wandering around (this actually led to a lengthy discussion about the proper plural form of Elvis- Elvi or Elvises). After a night of Karaoke on Beale Street (at Wet Willie's- as Yolanda and Karen), we drove south through Mississippi, taking a slight detour down Highway 61 (my favorite Bob Dylan song).  A slightly longer detour involved the World's Only Cactus Plantation (according to the homemade signs we followed down several dirt roads, while contemplating the rate of potential success vs. beginning of a horror movie), where we bought many cacti- two of which are currently residing in Wyckoff and San Francisco, respectively.

By the time we hit New Orleans, we were dirty, had embraced wearing bandanas as a fashionable hair statements, and were aware that while we didn't know the exact date, it was "sometime in August, during the week" (according to my notes).

The next major stop, Mobile, Alabama was exited slowly, due to a detour, while we listened to the aptly named "Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again".  Forgoing a shower, we instead went swimming in the Gulf of Mexico in Pensacola (I was now Lola, while Ali forgot her alias when put on the spot).  We found a horse we nicknamed "Puff, the Magic Horse" (due to his dreadlocks) in Georgia, and I inexplicably developed a Southern accent.  Atlanta involved getting soaked in the Olympic Rings left over from the 1996 games, a tour of The World of Coca Cola, and dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe two nights in a row.  At the top of Lookout Mountain, just outside of Chatanooga, TN, we were able to see 7 states (according to the boasts on the signage).

The final stop on our 3000+ miles trek was The Enchanted Castle- a really kitzchy, amazingly silly and yet fantastic place.   We took pictures with a cow with wings, Ali in a space helmet, and of a bungee jumping fiberglass pig.  Our final aliases were "Haley and Marty Paxtonia".

It's been a while since that last road trip- roughly 14 years.  She moved to the West Coast, worked for Google, quit, started her own company, and moved in with her boyfriend.   I migrated west, then back east, got married to the guy who "found himself" down under, and had a couple of kids.  In the downstairs coat closet is the dog eared scrapbook from our adventure, covered in navy blue velvet, with peeling pictures and carefully typed up notes I took from our original spiral bound trip notebook.

Life has been tough the last few years.  While there are some wonderful parts, there have also been a good deal of trials and tribulations I won't bore with now.  But suffice to say, I'm itching for another car ride to the tune of Freebird.  I just called her up to suggest Summerfest at Better Farm this August- an annual event held in Redwood, NY that my sister is curator of.

She didn't answer, but I texted, and about half an hour, the phone rang.  With my daughter wrapped around my leg, I reached into my pocket, picturing her, 3000 miles away, in San Francisco.  She's probably pulling on a pair of sneakers, cell phone to her ear, getting ready to take a group hiking, I thought (she now uses her adventurous spirit to run her business, Urban Hiker SF).

I could hear the click, said hello, and heard that familiar voice.

"Hey Kris!"

I responded, "Say yes."

She started laughing, and of course, obliged.

"Okay, yes.  Now, what did I just agree to?" she asked.