I met Judy in the fall of 1967 -- she and Thea and I lived in the same college dorm and I at first, in my adolescent omniscience, thought Judy was "very young". Nevertheless, the three of us became life-long friends. I learned a lot from Judy, though probably not as much as she had to teach me... There was a lot of hands-on learning: planting bulbs in the fall to see those irises she loved so much come up in the spring, finding good clothes in thrift shops, and making sure you read Consumer Reports before buying anything! Some lessons took. Others, sort of…

            Long after college, one December when she and Thea were planning to host dinner for a group of friends, Judy managed to convince me that, since I’d lived in Brazil all those years, it was perfectly possible for me to cook a Brazilian dinner for 12 from scratch… (I’ve never been much of a cook, and any entertaining my friends and I did generally involved beer and large quantities of spaghetti sauce!) Well, with a lot of help from Judy, dinner did come together. I wish I could remember all the dishes we made, but I know there was an abundance of exotic food. In the Cozinha Brasileira cookbook from which I took the recipes, I still have a yellowed slip with a shopping list for feijoada and a scribbled reminder to serve creme de abacate (pureed avocado with sugar and a little cream) as dessert. There was a slight glitch: having been invited for 6 p.m., our guests had to survive on wine and hors d’oeuvres until 10 p.m. when dinner was finally served. The following year, the December dinner with friends was a potluck affair. I guess Judy learned something from me, or at least about me. But she didn’t give me a hard time -- she was generous, flexible and very practical.

            Through visits to Judy’s house while we were in college and later over the years, I got to spend time not only with her mom, dad and brother, but also with her Aunt Wally, and Evie and her family, as well as her friend Rosemary and her family. Judy, for her part, paid visits to my family and me in Guatemala, and got to see Atitlan, Antigua, and Chichicastenango. She even accompanied us on a day trip to Poza Verde despite having developed an allergic reaction to ceviche the day before. She was a trooper! On one of her trips, she lugged a tote bag with Webster's Third International -- a jumbo gift for my dad which he treasured all his life. My mom and brothers and sisters remember her fondly. She stayed in touch with my brothers in the U.S. I seem to have tons of photos of Judy with different members of her Guatemalan fans up here and down there.

            When she came to visit me in Brazil she was eager to explore, while I was figuring she needed to recover from jet lag. After a day-and-a-half of chatting, eating and catching up, Judy subtly mentioned that she had flown across a whole ocean to this foreign country... Wasn't it time we got out of my apartment and saw more of Rio de Janeiro and maybe other parts of Brazil??? I got the message! We went sightseeing around Rio, rode the cable cars to Pao de Acucar, walked up to Corcovado and, of course, took in a couple of Brazilian restaurants. We also took a bus tour to Minas and Bahia where we happily climbed hills, checked out churches, watched capoeira on stage and on the street, caught a play, and shopped for pewter, soapstone, and an emerald for her Mom.

            Back in the U.S, Judy and Thea helped me get settled, made sure I had a place to spend the holidays, and welcomed Bill into the fold at one of their summer picnics. In fact, Bill remembers that after he met me, life was a blur of parties and outings with Judy and Thea –- there was work, too? Judy definitely had a gift for hosting gatherings and bringing a diverse selection of friends together, making them all feel welcome. Even while being the gracious host, she was willing to go out of her way, literally, when people needed her. When we celebrated Thea's PhD graduation, my brother and his family came down from Massachusetts, but got stranded by car trouble just past the Connecticut border. Judy was willing to help, and somehow managed to keep one set of guests happy, while driving out to rescue the stragglers.

            Judy had already moved to California the first Christmas Bill and I spent in a house, as opposed to an apartment. As usual, she surprised us. A big, beautiful wreath from L.L. Bean showed up at our front door. (It was a proper New England gift from a newly-minted Californian!) She was thoughtful and creative about gifts –- many of them intangible. She wrote often when I was alone in Brazil. She also provided moral support by attending the oral presentation I was required to give in order to complete my master’s degree, at a time when I was experiencing a near-terminal bout of anxiety. Her graduation gift was a Krupps coffee maker, which kept me joyfully caffeinated for many years. I should mention that she did point out how appalling it was for someone who cared so much about coffee not to own a “proper” coffee maker. She had her candid moments...

            When she came back east, Judy would give plenty of notice. Sometimes she criss-crossed the east coast, with layovers to visit friends and family. She’d stop to see Bill and me and we’d go looking for a good place to eat lobster. Often, Mary would extend her bountiful hospitality to Judy and to whomever among our mutual friends happened to be close by at the time – it seemed as if these visits always ended with a party, or had one in the middle. It was great when Judy’s visit and Thea’s coincided, and a large group of us could get together for happy eating and catching up. On two different years, sometime in the mid-2000’s, Judy rented a big house near Mystic, and invited family and friends to visit, somehow managing to stagger groups of guests throughout the week. Even when living on the other side of the country, Judy could instigate a good get-together!

            Judy always connected with children, She took my brother, his wife, and their kids to see the Nutcracker in the winter, and Etaville Railroad in the summer – Bill and I tagged along. And, in California, Pam, her husband, and their kids were like family to Judy. When I visited, Judy had orchestrated a trip to the Monterey Aquarium with them and invited me along. It was a great day all around! The kids had a ball, while Pam, Judy, and I watched and talked and talked.

            Perhaps it’s the talking I miss most. When Judy and I got together, we talked. When we were in opposite coasts, we could talk for three hours on the phone – eventually we had to pre-schedule these calls to fit them in as life got busier. She even had relatively long conversations with Bill, who tends to be on the quiet side… I miss hearing about what’s happening in her life and sharing what’s going on at my end.

            Judy partook of a good part of my life and I of hers. I am grateful for all she shared of herself with me, and for the time our lives overlapped or intersected. She was indeed a friend for all seasons, and I miss her very much. In that, I know I’m not the only one.

     My writing teacher once gave us a prompt – ten years. We were to write a piece that conveyed a time frame of events over ten years. The next week, our prompt was ten minutes. We had to fill pages of events that were crammed into ten minutes. How does one do this? After I tried these exercises, I learned that the approach is the same: time is conveyed in the details. The reader both feels and experiences the passing of time in the details.
     How does one sum up a friendship that lasted 47 years?
     Judy and I used to drive to a restaurant in the center of Windsor. It was our default relaxation place, not because it was fabulous, but it was comfortable. Close by and friendly, we could see the manager running around to keep the salad bar stocked. The noise level in the room was annoying and we always thought some sort of strategically placed room dividers would help. Why I’m thinking about it isn’t so much about the restaurant, but about the drive to the restaurant. We always commented on why it seemed longer to get to the restaurant than to get home. Once, when it was raining, it took even longer than usual.
     But I knew the answer. I was studying neuroscience and knew about anticipation and attention and all the things the human brain does to construct reality. How we sense the world and make sense out of it. How more processing power is needed to traverse an unfamiliar route and how anticipation can make time go slow. And then, lost in reverie recalling a smiling face across the dinner table or thinking about the comfort of recalling a day over shrimp scampi, time zips by and one is home.
     John Golini said Judy made the best lasagna he’d ever eaten. We were at his house in Arlington and he had just finished playing Scott Joplin’s Maple Leaf Rag. I didn’t know a human being could connect with so many notes. He didn’t know Judy had a secret to making lasagna.
     I remember the visit to Judy’s house in Santa Clara when she taught me to play Bejeweled on the computer. She was hooked on it, and then I was too. Sometimes when I visited her, we’d go get clam dinners at The Lobster Shack. Or go to an Indian restaurant where we ate pakoras and garlic naan bread. Then we’d go back to her house and light a Firestart log in the fireplace and continue talking.
     Within walking distance of her house was another Indian restaurant called Thali. We went there when I got stuck in northern California after the 9/11 attacks. I woke up that morning and came into the kitchen. Judy had the TV on and we stared at the images of the burning towers. We had both worked there, we both were helpless. Minute by minute, nothing changed. It reminded me of endless footage of the OJ Simpson car chase: media hype to hold your attention. We turned off the TV, we went to work. How were we to know the buildings would collapse? Bush grounded all commercial airlines. I stayed with Judy an extra week. On the door of the Thali Indian restaurant was a sign, “We are Sikhs. We are peaceful people.”
     Judy did so many things for people. For me, she made a big surprise party the day after I defended by PhD dissertation. Renting a tent, inviting my sister and friends from far away. She took Evie and her kids to the Everglades, she brought Aunt Wally to Epcot Center and Key West. She took the Crouch kids to an amusement park. She rented a cottage in Milford and invited everyone she knew. When I ran the New England Clown Convention in Hartford, she organized the judges and used her calculator to tally up the scores. When I first started clowning, I dressed up as a jester and she made me curly-toed boots on her sewing machine. When she wanted to buy a house in Windsor, she traveled around with a real estate broker from Keene, New Hampshire til they found our house on Dudley Town Road. We went to Sears and bought a frost-free gold-colored refrigerator. Two days later, we saw it coming down the road on the top of a pickup truck. She laughed because it was bigger than the truck itself. When I started studying the trumpet, she took up gardening. And when I practiced with the 8 year old neighbor, she started wearing a Walkman with earphones.
     She decided to go to law school after she was on jury duty and was watching the lawyers. She wanted a job she could explain in just a few words. She made index cards when she was studying for the bar. I would test her on the concepts. The only one I remember is possession is 9/10ths of the law. The story behind that phrase made her laugh.
     Judy wanted to go everywhere, climb every mountain. When the Olympics came to Los Angeles in 1984, Judy wanted to go. My parents lived there and we had a free place to stay. Judy heard about the ticket lottery for the Olympics and we got into the pool: you had to place your order a year in advance and you had no idea if you would get some, many, or none. We put in for a lot figuring we'd get some. We got a lot. It was a great time to be in Los Angeles. The businesses shut down and everyone left. We had free bus passes and traveled around to all the sites: USC for diving and swimming, the Colesium for track and field. Watching Greg Louganis dive. It was amazing to be there, just as it had been amazing to go to the Winter Olympics in Lake Placid in 1980. Judy's idea as well. We saw the last hockey game where the US beat Sweden and saw the gold medal ceremony.
     Judy loved kids and adopted any family that had them. The Richmeyers with their four kids who were befriended so long ago that they became family. The Crouches with their 3 kids across the street. PJ’s family out in California. The programs Judy volunteered for as a mentor, as a child advocate.
    She loved music. We installed speakers upstairs and downstairs in the house so that we could hear the stereo wherever we were. It meant buying a foot-long drill bit to drill down into the garage and into the family room. We got so good at drilling that she decided we should install a whole house vacuum system. When I anchored the motor to the garage wall with boards and huge bolts, she said a basketball team could hang off of it and not move it.
     Christmas. Judy loved Christmas, and she went all out for it. Every year, the house would fill up with the smell of spicy fruit cakes and savory butter cookies. We picked out a tree at a lot and carry it home in the back of my hatchback. For half a year afterwards, I vacuumed prickly brown needles out of the crevices. While we decorated the tree, Judy played Christmas carol tapes and we got further and further entangled in strings of Christmas lights.
     I pulled out the tinsel. “No, there’s an order to decorating the tree,” Judy reminded me, pointing to the other box.
     “I know, I know. ‘First the lights, then the ornaments, and then the tinsel’,” I mimicked. Each year, we repeated the same dialogue we had had the first year. It made us both laugh. Out came the Christmas ornaments: the silvery blue cloth balls, the creamy white ones, the bright green ones. The little mirrors went up, reflecting all the lights.
     Then came the small grey box stuffed with our special Christmas ornaments that we collected on our yearly vacation trips around the country. As we listened to pa-rum-pa-pum-pum, we hung up the swinging glass angels with red wings, the wooden cats, the cloth and plastic clowns, and my miniature trumpet. Then Judy and I sat on the couch, looking at our masterpiece, taking in the fresh evergreen smell, and toasting Christmas with glasses of rum-spiked egg nog. It didn’t matter that I was Jewish and she was no longer Catholic.
     Thank you for all the memories, my friend. I think the secret to her great lasagna was cooking it with love.  Thank you, Judy, for all the love and lessons and enthusiasm you brought to life.

Judy decided we should do something for our 50th birthdays. Lupi was turning 50 before us and we put on our thinking caps and started working on a plan. At first, the ideas were small (e.g., send Lupi a birthday card) but as we discussed it, the plan got bigger and bigger. We wound up sending Lupi a birthday card and told her to pack insect repellant, a flash light, and her passport, and then sent a limo to pick her up and take her to Logan Airport. We flew her out to San Francisco to visit with her brother. Then Lupi and Judy flew down to Los Angeles, where Mary and I met her at the airport and took her to the Los Angeles Port. We boarded a ship for a 4 day cruise to the Mexican Riviera with stops along the way. Judy made sure we visited the San Diego Zoo, the Botanical Gardens on Catalina, the blow hole at Ensenada, the markets.  We went on to Universal Studios. See the pictures.

For my 50th, I had a party in Long Beach that everyone came to. For Judy’s 50th birthday, we had a great party at Mary’s house, lots of friends. For Mary’s 50th, Judy and I met in London before we went on to Ireland. I remember the prices in London, everything was so expensive. There were things Judy wanted to see and do: fish and chips (and smashed peas or something like that) at St. James Tavern, multiple visits to the British Museum, Indian food, a ride on one of those red double decker buses, plays at the West End.  We took a boat to Ireland (where they checked us for mad cow disease) and then we stayed at the University of Dublin dorms. We took the train to Dingle, Ireland where Mary was renting some cottages for the celebration. Judy and I had debated taking the bus or train to Dingle. We decided we preferred the train, but it broke down and we wound up on a bus anyway.

Great parties, great times with close friends.

     When Judy graduated from college, she got a job as a ‘gal Friday’ for the head of the data processing department of a small shipping agency. That was in about 1971. The company was located downtown in Manhattan near the Wall Street area. When I returned from almost a year  living in Guatemala, I was looking for a job. The day I arrived in New York, the computer operator quit at Judy’s company. I didn’t know anything about computers (I had flunked the only programming course I had taken in college because one never saw the computer). But Judy told her boss about me and he said, “If she’s a friend of yours, she’s smart and she can have the job.” So we worked together doing all the paperwork to get these large ships in and out of ports around the world (there's a picture of us standing next to the computer -- an IBM 360/20 with it's 8K of memory taking up a whole room). Next door to the company was a large construction project going on – the building of the World Trade Center.

    About a year after I started at the company, they were bought out by a larger agency and we all moved to the 40th floor of the south tower of the World Trade Center. The north tower was still being built. They were gorgeous buildings. Even from the 40th floor, you could see New Jersey, the Hudson River, Manhattan, the bridges. Who needed pictures on the walls, with views like that. Of course, the computer room was not near the windows. Judy had an office but I don’t remember where it was. She became more than a ‘gal Friday’ and I think was even offered her boss’s job. Sometimes we went to the observation deck on the 110th floor where you could see 50 miles in any direction. It was an outdoor platform which was pretty scary because there was just a city in front of you, not like at the Empire State Building where there are walls and windows.

    The wind was quite interesting related to those tall structures. It was really hard to walk between the two of them. I think ropes were finally installed so you had something to hang on to. The other thing about the wind was that it really pushed on the buildings. The architects knew how to deal with it. In the center of the buildings next to the elevators were the bathrooms, and when you were sitting in there, you could feel the sway. Made one seasick.

   We only worked there for a few years but it was an amazing experience.

Judy loved making parties. It was our way of cleaning the house (otherwise, it wouldn’t get done). We had two regular parties every year. In the summer, there was the big barbeque. The builder had installed a small brick patio in the back, and we had to maintain constant vigilance to prevent the weeds from taking over the red bricks. One year, the two kids next door joined the party; at 3 years old, they sat crammed into one patio chair talking with the other guests. Eventually, we built a 20 x 20 foot wooden deck in the back with an octagonal ear on its side (Judy wanted to place an octagonal screened gazebo on it. Which worked great, until a hurricane blew it across the lawn one year.)

The other party was a pre-Christmas international dinner. Why it started, Lupi will have to share that story. Sufficient to say that after the first year, we made it an international potluck dinner. The French year Judy made dozens of crepes. The Mexican year involved chicken mole I believe.

As for the irregular parties, there were lots of those as well. Since we traveled in various groups, guests included clowns, magicians, graduate students, Aetna people, and many others. I think the best moment was when the party turned to music. We uncovered great talent: a graduate student Judy Franklin from UMass playing Pachelbel’s Canon in D with Carol Endriss on the piano; and Reggie playing Over the Rainbow on the musical saw while I accompanied him on the piano.

Judy loved music, always was playing tapes of something. But the live music was the best.

Okay, people are sharing stories from our college days. We lived on the same floor at one of the dormitories at New York University. Carol and Judy were roommates, I was roommates with Janet, and Lupi and Suzie were roommates. I remember some strange happenings that I am wondering who else remembers and who was the instigator. I never did find out who did it, but one day I discovered a newspaper-filled six foot doll (figure? male?) lying in my bed. I am hoping someone will fess up to this. There was retaliation as I recall. I remember all the furniture being removed from Carol and Judy's room one night. I also remember someone's bathroom being totally filled with crumbled up newspaper. There was the time Judy and I wound up with our faces painted, but I don't remember why. The picture is in the gallery. What energy we had then. I even remember going to a few classes. Judy was studying mathematics in order to be a math teacher, I believe, but then switched to major in Russian. One summer she got a job with a professor who was creating a dictionary of Old Church Slovanic and English. I remember Judy carrying around boxes of punch cards, each one with an Old Church Slovanic word. Her Russian studies helped in the process. It also helped when we went to Czechoslovakia all those years later, she could understand the roots of some of the words.

Okay, anyone, correct me where I'm wrong.

Summer 1987 – I had a conference to go to in Milan and Judy wanted to visit the town where her father was born outside of Prague. So off we went on another one of those incredible experiences that only Judy could create. Before we left the States, we tried to get a hotel room in Prague but it proved impossible. This was before the Velvet Revolution, and Czechoslovakia was still part of the Soviet Union. But Judy had a cousin who had a friend who had an aunt who had a garage mechanic who knew of someone who had a sister who knew someone in Prague. We left for Paris on a big PanAm jet not knowing if we would be able to go to Prague. We had our visas and a phone number, but that’s about it.

Paris was superb of course. The Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Picasso Museum, the cafes, Versailles. We headed north on the train to Giverney and rode bikes to Monet’s studio. We took a ferry to the Isle of Wight across the English Channel to visit with Lupi’s sister. And then we took the train to the Czechoslovakia, almost getting off it at the border thinking we were supposed to.

In Prague, these two strangers met us and brought us to the hotel they found for us. The man took vacation that week and showed us around. It was impossible to travel otherwise. The woman helped us hire a taxi cab and drive to the town where Judy’s father was born. At the cemetery, we found her last name and discovered family was still living there. We knocked on the door and these people were very excited to meet Judy. They were about to sit down to their Sunday dinner but insisted that we eat their dinner while they toasted us and we wrote down the family tree. Judy’s father’s first cousin sat on the couch, he was in his 80s and remembered her father leaving when he was 16 years old.

We tried to rent a car in Prague in order to see the rest of the country, but this was impossible as well in those days. So we left, went to Vienna and played miniature golf and saw an opera, and then headed to Milan for my conference. Saw the Last Supper. We connected with some friends Linda and Karl at the conference and the four of us drove down towards Tuscany. In Florence, we rented an Italian villa, swam, and saw Michelangelo’s David. In Pisa, we climbed the Leaning Tower. Linda stayed on the ground, I glommed onto the inner wall, Karl at least stood up. But Judy stood at the very edge, fearless even with the tilt of the building. We drove along the incredibleItalian Rivera and then headed onwards on our own.

We took the train north through Switzerland, Germany. At the German border, the train gets on a ship to get to Denmark across the Baltic Sea. Then Sweden and Stockholm, the palace where the Nobel Prizes are given. I had to go visit scientists in a small town in Sweden, close to the Arctic Circle. I remember Judy and I walking along a quiet street in Umea, realizing we were so far north and yet, we felt so at peace. From there, we went to Norway and took a boat ride through the fjords. Judy really wanted to see the fjords and it was beautiful. And Oslo with the Kon Tiki and the Viking ship.

So many memories. Speaking Spanish to the Italians. Eating French croissants. The spires of Prague, the Vlatava River. The Seine, Notre Dame. We must have hit every cathedral and church we could find.

For senior year Judy, Helen and I lived in a 15th floor 1 room apartment in Chelsea (well, one big room plus I slept in the closet). When graduation came around only Helen had local family. Judy and I did not see the point of going thru the ceremony with no one in the audience for us so we decided to rent one cap and gown for the thee of us. We took turns having pictures taken of us in the cap and gown. On graduation day Helen was supposed to go thru the ceremony while Judy and I used our family tickets to sit in the audience.  Graduation was supposed to be at Madison Square Garen, but we arrived there to find an electrician's strike with graduaton moved to Radio City Music Hall. When we got to Radio City there was a line wrapped all the way around the building. The barker was out front shouting "NYU line forms at the rear of the building and the floor show goes on promptly at 3 pm!) When we got to the rear, there were vendors selling penants "Get yer NYU penant, you can't go in for graduation without one!" We stood in line for a bit but it was clear that Radio City Msic Hall was a lot smaller thn Madison Square Garden so we never actually got in to see our own graduation. Helen who had the cap and gown said we really did not miss much.

The week before Judy left us to live in California she treated our three children to a day at an amusement park.  My husband and I were not invited.  Our children were thrilled.  A trip to an amusement park was not an every day occurrence in our home.

Judy arrived bright and early and the four of them set off for what sounded like a wonderful day.  They rode rides, went down water slides, ate junk food, and laughed   a lot.

 What could be better!

They arrived home late that evening.  They were all sunburned, tired, and very happy.

She was a very good friend to us all.

October 1976 - In Anchorage, we had dinner at the house of the political wonks we met on the ship, and then flew back to Seattle. I remember taking the wrong bus to the people's house where our car was, and traipsing through Seattle streets in our parkas, hiking boots, and holding our sleeping bags. It felt so out of place. Our trip south holds various memories: driving through the San Juan Islands, checking the oil in the car and forgetting to put the oil cap back on. I had to hitchhike to the nearest gas station to get more oil. In the Olympia National Park, we hiked to an ice cave, and then to the rain forest. We drove down the stunning Oregon coast, and stayed at that nurse's house in Portland that we met on the trip, using the opportunity to find a leak in our air matress in her bathtub. Oh yeah, I performed as a clown at the Portland Farmer's Market (did I mention I had my clown costume with me and taught juggling to kids in the campgrounds?)  In San Francisco, we stayed with some other people we met and decided all the camping had turned us off of cities. Somewhere on the road, our car broke down and we had to get it fixed.Somewhere else, we ran out of money and somehow someone sent us more (how did anyone survive without the Internet and smart phones?) At Yosemite National Park, we learned to hug jeffrey pine trees. We climbed to the falls and spent an hour studying a plant figuring out finally it was a jack-in-the-pulpit. No stone unturned, no mountain left unclimbed.

And then Los Angeles and reconnecting with my junior high school friend Rochelle from Cleveland. Such a joy. Her husband Paul had family in Tucson and they invited us there for Thanksgiving dinner. But first, Judy wanted to climb down into the Grand Canyon.

November 1976 - There are signs along the first part of the trail at the Grand Canyon: "Don't walk too far, it is hard to walk back up." But Judy was determined to walk all the way down. I studied the age of the rocks as they got older and changed colors. Judy's toenails bit into her toes and by the time we got to the Colorado River, her feet were bleeding. I bandaged them up. It was 8 miles down to the Phantom Ranch. We were fed dinner and given bunk beds. In the morning, there was clanking on the doors, and everyone woke, dressed, and were given breakfast. Lunches were packed for us and we headed out. The trail up was shorter 5 1/2 miles, but the last 1500 feet from Indian Gardens was nothing but switchbacks straight up. I have to say it was the most painful thing I've ever done in my life. Judy beat me to the top and took a picture of me as I emerged at the rim. You could tell who were the people that did the hike: they walked very gingerly. Except for the man from South Africa who did it barefoot in just one day. My legs hurt for the next two weeks. But it was worth it. And we had great stories to tell at Thanksgiving in Tucson with wonderful people who became like family.

December 1976 - From Arizona, the trip back was a whirlwind of memories: caves, more mountains, crossing the continental divide, Texas, more Texas, the best dinner I've ever had at some restaurant in New Orleans, getting eaten alive by the mosquitos in the Everglades (Judy didn't seem to be bothered by them), visiting with my aunt and uncle, and a 14 hour drive back to Connecticut from Tennessee. All in all, it was an amazing experience. The time was right, people were friendly in the campgrounds and we made friends who we stayed in contact with for years afterwards. Judy loved experiencing everything she could, learning the rocks and trees and flowers and birds and plants. Seeing all there is to see in the world. Her curiosity had no bounds. I loved every moment of the trip and did things I never would have had it not been for her.

Because of the worry of getting to Denali on time, we had to skip a few places Judy wanted to visit. In 1981, we went to the Canadian Rockies, hiking through Jasper, Lake Louise, and Banff National Parks. I think it was Judy who found my wool hat. There was a choice between a red one and the tan one. She said the tan one was more spectacular. It’s 34 years later, and I still have it (you can see it in one of the pictures from Boston)

September 1976 – Glacier National Park in Montana. We took a 5 ½ mile hike up to a glacier with a ranger-led group. From the top, we could see lake after lake below us. They were all this incredible turquoise blue, being fed with silt from the glacier. On the glacier, there was another lake. Some young person asked if there were any fish in it. The ranger said, "Yes, fur-bearing trout." We walked along the glacier and peered down into blue glass. At the bottom was a deep black, like we were staring into infinity. Judy was smiling the whole time. Forget about the 5 1/2 mile hike back down, and the helicopter that arrived for someone who fell off a horse. Long hike, but totally worth it. Even having the bear in the campground that evening was worth it.

Cascades National Park, Washington. It had just recently opened and the road through it was brand new. I remember it being warm there. I remember a hike in shorts. I remember walking along the north side of the peak and suddenly we were knee deep in snow. At the top, it was warmer. At the top, we could see forever. It was flat except for three mountain peaks pushing into the sky. We asked someone what they are.

"Mt. Rainier, Mt. Baker."

"What's the third one?"

"Mt. St. Helens."

This was four years before it blew.

Seattle, Washington. We arrived at the house of some friends of my parents. The woman was studying for the LSATS and doing situps on the floor to tone up for the hard studying (maybe this is where Judy got the idea to go to law school). We left our car in their garage, took our parkas and sleeping bags and anything else we could carry, and headed off on a ship on the Inland Marine Highway to Alaska. Hoping we would still be able to get into the national park.

Trip to Denali National Park. We met all sorts of people on the ship. A nurse from Portland (who we wound up staying at her house). A fascinating political junkie from Anchorage (who knew the governor and who we visited in Anchorage). A woman from Juneau (who let us stay at her house too). We stopped at Ketchikan -- 8 miles of roads that the cabbie travels 150 miles/day on, bookstores on every corner, beautiful native museum. We stopped in Juneau, saw the capital and museums. We stopped in Skagway and went to a bar where they read Robert Service's poem about The Shooting of Dan McGrew. The roads were all mud. We climbed onto a narrow-gauge train and followed the gold rushers path to Canada, stopping at Lake Bennett for a lunch of baked beans and sourdough bread, traveling through canyons and forested mountains. Breathtaking. There was no road for cars yet. We landed at Whitehorse in the Yukon (the home of a 3 story log cabin). When we found out we had to wait 3 days for the bus to Fairbanks, we rented a car with some other people and headed into British Columbia for a card game with a gin-swilling group of crazy women.

Finally, on the bus to Fairbanks. When we got to the US border, we found out that there was some law that said the trip had to take two days. So we all piled out of the bus and stayed at a motel for the night. It was all so beautiful, didn't matter. In Fairbanks, we went to an evening class on gold-mining and learned how to pan for gold (you need a donkey, a pan, a bottle of Jack Daniels). The professor told us where south of Fairbanks to stop and try it. He said all the rivers in Alaska had gold in them. So we tried it. Rented a car, not a donkey. Besides the dead fish and plastic pieces, we did found some gold. I still have it.

We arrived at Denali National Park. It was closed in terms of buses taking tourists through it, but we found out we could still drive all the way to the Wonder Lake at the end of an 80 mile road. And we did it. We were above the tree line. It was magical. It was a perfectly clear day. They say only 10 percent of the people actually see Mt. McKinley. We saw it. We took pictures of ourselves in front of it. We were in awe. But even Judy didn't want to climb it. We headed back to the main road, 80 miles, sun setting, low on gas. Didn't know what to do, didn't want to run out of gas in some unknown place. So we slept in the car. That night, I saw a big dog sniffing at the windows. Judy said, "That's not a dog, that's a wolf." I was glad the doors were locked. I was glad we had our sleeping bags and parkas. It was cold. I looked up and saw the Aurora Borealis. I never saw anything like it in my life. In the morning, we drove south, found a gas station, and had one of the best breakfasts of my life. Because we had survived Denali National Park -- with its cold temperatures, its wolves, and its incredible majesty.

I just read Thea's stories about crossing the country camping. Since there weren't cell phones I don't know how we communicated but we did get info to Judy that we were having a baby in early 1977. Along her trip Judy cross stitched padded bibs for Michele. She continued helping Michele. Michele was to come in March. My parents usually went to Florida in March so they went early this year to be here when their first grandchild arrived. Judy and Thea were house sitting for the month of February. Michele , of course, came on February 12. The baby room was not ready, the antique crib was still in the attic. Judy, Thea, and new Dad, Harv, put crib together. Twice, but that's another story. Judy always helped when she was needed. Thank you my friend

July 1976 - Thunder Bay, Ontario. To be standing on the north side of Lake Superior was amazing. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever consider doing that, but Judy had a drive to see everything, to climb every mountain, to check out every museum. And there was a mountain to climb there. On the top, we could make out the Sleeping Giant, a formation of mesas on a penninsula out in the lake. An Ojibway legend identifies the giant as Nanabijou, who was turned to stone when the secret location of a rich silver mine was disclosed to white men. We visited a paper mill (when I got home, I started making paper because of this). We visited Fort Williams Historic Park which is a living museum, and Judy took notes from the cooper on making barrels (I don't think she ever tried to make one though).

August 1976 - The interstate in Iowa goes on for miles without a curve or rise. The best thing we saw in Iowa was the Corn Palace (Judy couldn't believe a whole building made of corn). In South Dakota, we had to stop at the Wall Drug Store which still advertises a free drink of water. But then we got to the Badlands, to the Black Hills and Mt.Rushmore. This is why we were camping, why we were doing this trip. She wanted to see grand things, hike wherever we could in order to experience their beauty. During the day, rangers would guide us and teach us. One night, we sat by an ampitheatre learning how to tell the difference between a black bear and a brown one (if you climb up a tree and it follows you, it's a black bear). Another night, we befriended some fellow travelers in the campground. We invited them to our campfire and we had dinner together. When it started to rain, we all climbed into their RV. No bears followed us and we were saved from a downpour.

In Wyoming, we went to the Grand Tetons. It always made me nervous when we first arrived at a national park, what if the campgrounds were full? Judy always took it in stride and we always found a spot. And had dinner on time, after hiking all day with spectacular views. At Yellowstone National Park, yes, we saw Old Faithful. But Judy decided we should wait for another more unpredictable geyser. It took an hour and a half, but it finally erupted. Neither of us knew about the falls at Yellowstone, and when we hiked to them, we were stunned by their beauty -- blue aqua water against yellow rocks.

In Montana, we went mining for sapphires. We did the whole thing: picks and axes to dig dirt out of a mine, a sifter to get rid of the big stuff, buckets to carry the dirt down to the river, boots to cover our legs, staring at a tray of dirt looking for a gem. It took all day. One had to distinguish from pieces of glass, but we did find a sapphire. For years, we discussed what to do with it, cut it in half and get it faceted. We never did. I still have it.

On our trip towards the west, we had a goal: to go to Denali National Park in Alaska to see Mt. McKinley. The park closed for the season in September, so we were watching the calendar as we made our way west visiting national parks and museums.

Did we make it? You'll have to read the next installment.

In 1975, Judy and I decided to quit our jobs in New York City and take a six-month cross-country trip from Connecticut to California, from Alaska to Florida. She bought the most logical car one could have for such a long endeavor: a tiny Fiat. We saved our money and she paid off the car.

July 4, 1976 - We couldn't leave New York before the big Bicentennial Celebration. We stood on top of the Rockefellor Center watching the tall ships sail up the Hudson River. Spectacular site, beautiful afternoon. In the evening, fireworks and magic. The next day, we left New York.

July, 1976 - We spent two weeks in Connecticut figuring out how to pack the car. Everything had a place: the green camping box, our luggage, the food box, the Coleman stove, our tent, sleeping bags, books, cameras. What didn't fit was chucked. Our first stop was upstate New York, where we stayed with my cousins Linda and Dick. They taught us how to camp. Did I mention we had never camped before? (Although I think Rosemary and Harvey gave Judy a camping lesson while in Connecticut).

We headed to Canada since I grew up in Ohio and didn't want to see all that midwest flat land. We toured a uranium mine, boated on Lake Huron, saw Sudbury and its huge nickel mine and pile of nickel dust that blew everywhere. One of our first camping nights was on Manitoulin Island in Lake Huron. A native First Nation festival was going on. We started cooking at 6pm, not knowing we had to wait for all the logs to become coals. I think it was the only disagreement we ever had, but hey, we were hungry. Dinner was at 10 pm and we learned how incredibly wonderful a meal cooked out on the open fire is. We also learned to buy charcoal after that.

(to be continued)

Judy and I did a lot of camping. I'm sure many of my stories will be about our many trips. But, this trip, probably in about 1978, is one of my favorites. We went to the Berkshires which is a mountain range in Western Massachusetts and were supposed to meet up with friends I worked with at Wang Labs. This was in the days before cell phones. We were going to connect through the friend of a store owner of a shop in one of the towns like Lee or Lenox.

Judy and I got to the store and it was closed. We didn't know how to find our friends. Judy vaguely remembered the last name of the contact and we went to the phone booth across the street and started calling everyone in town with that last name.

As I recall, the conversation went something like this: "Hello, you don't know us and we don't know you. We think you might be the friend of one of my friends but I'm not sure which one. Maybe you know the owner of this store but we don't know that person's name either."

Most people had no idea what we were talking about. For the ones that didn't answer, we left a message on their answering machine with this addition, "We are standing at this phone booth and if this makes sense to you, can you call back?"

After we got through the list of names, we stood on the corner trying to figure out what to do next. Suddenly, the phone rang. It was for us! Our message had made sense to someone and they told us what campground to go to.

We got to the campground and met up with our friends. It was dark by then. It was a big group, maybe 10 or 15 people. The campground manager looked at our group and said, "I'm going to have to clear a space for you all." He then got into his truck and literally cleared away some bushes.

We set up our tents. No one had had dinner. So we pooled our food together and made dinner and ate. It was probably 10pm by the time we could settle in.

In the morning, we were all trying to figure out what to do. They all had used up most of their food for the dinner the night before. I think it was a holiday and stores were closed. Judy, being the consummate camper, said we had plenty of supplies for people.

"All of us?"

"Sure. We brought enough food to last us all week. We can make breakfast today for everyone."

She brought out the green box with our camping supplies. We had tableclothes, plates, silverware, dozens of eggs, loaves of bread. Bacon. Coffee. My friend Renel was amazed as I handed her the food and she helped set up the meal.

Judy was doing the cooking. She needed to cook the eggs in something and she asked me for the margarine. I searched the box, I searched the cooler, I couldn't find it.

Renel smiled and pounced on this one flaw in the perfect plan. "Aha, Judy forgot something! She's human after all."

Judy stayed calm. She looked into the cooler and without batting an eyelash, she said, "Oh well, I guess we'll have to use the butter."

Only Judy could create such a time. She nurtured everyone around her, she could figure things out and make sure everyone had a good time.

Thank you, Judy, for these wonderful memories.