Like my sister, Jenny, I met Ginny in 7th grade, and it was one of those instantaneous meetings of kindred spirits. We met in Ms Dunmore's Home Ec and had to measure each other for a sewing class, and within minutes we had taken the measure of each other and become fast friends in the way only girls in 7th grade can do. We spoke the same language and loved the same things, and somehow we knew that instantly.
I have so many wonderful memories of Ginny and Billy, and her family. Their house seemed a place where all of the rigid rules that don't matter had been lifted. I remember coming over one weekend and finding a goat or lamb in the bathtub, and no one seemed to think it was extraordinary, so I went with it. There was the time a new litter of coon hounds had gotten into a bag of plaster of Paris and then splashed in their waterbowl and we all chased the pups around shouting and laughing trying to free them from the hardening clay. One divine weekend, Ginny's mom had gotten a French fry maker, and to her dismay, we had gone through a ten-pound bag of potatoes, frying one batch after another as we listened to Janis Ian's "At Seventeen," an age we longed to be. Later, we snuck out back and, longing to be "bad girls" if only for an hour, we rolled up moss (this is not a code word; it was literal moss) and smoked it. Billy caught us and vowed to tell, and all I could think was, "Tell what? We smoked lichen."
As Jenny noted, there was something so effortlessly cool about Ginny. She glided through middle school and high school, confident in her immense gifts — ones of intellect, humor, grace, and song —that made everyone around her at ease. I have forgotten nearly every lesson in every class, but I have never forgotten a moment of those days of golden friendship.
I don't pretend to know the vagaries of fate that caused such a wonderful friendship to slip away. In my mind, there was always time for us to reconnect one day soon. I'm sadder than I can ever express that I lost that chance. Ginny, I loved you more than I can ever express. Thank you for your friendship.
I wish everyone who knew and loved her, especially her children and husband, the warmest condolences. May her memory be a blessing; it is to me.