I have been so sad since receiving word of Cathy's transition. I last saw her about eighteen months ago, and we had promised each other to spend an evening watching trash movies over a bottle of wine on her living room floor.
Atlantic City High School, 1970: Cathy and I both worked in ARISTA, the girls honor society. I worked in the high school office, and together we came up with a sterling way to cut classes: we would check in during home room, then I would mark us "absent" on the official rolls, so we could pick and choose which classes we wanted to attend that day. We spent much of our senior year of high school hanging out on the beach and in the sub shop. It's a wonder we both graduated!
ACHS, 1971: Cathy and I both applied to Bennington College, and it was a long bus ride from AC to Bennington Vermont. Our parents let us ride together without supervision - we partook of various herbs in the back of the bus and generally giggled and laughed the entire way to Vermont. I remember laughing so hard at some joke she told that I inhaled the Cheetos we were eating and nearly choked. Cathy thought that was even funnier than the previous joke, and she coined a term for it, "snarfing."
As things turned out, I didn't end up at Bennington. Cathy did, for only a year or two, I think, before finishing her undergraduate degree in New York. We lost touch for a while while she was in Nicaragua, and when I next saw her again, she had changed. At first I thought it was a sadness that had dimmed the girlish light in her eyes, but over time I realized it was that she had found grounding in a mission and a sense of purpose, fighting for justice for indigenous people in Guatemala and Nicaragua. After she had Natan, that light returned.
I admired her passion and her dedication. The planet is a sadder place without her here. I miss you Cathy and hope we meet again in our next lifetime.