Farewell, Care Bear

My dear friend, Carrie Burgeson Crye, died.

Bacterial meningitis.

She leaves behind a 6-year old son, a husband, and a family and friends who loved her dearly.

Carrie's house was the fun house to hang at because her parents were fun, never complaining about our loud slumber parties, and they had a sauna in the basement. We would lip sync "I wear my sunglasses at night" - Carrie always had impeccable taste in music - or at least far more hip than me. She was the sane one helping us along with whatever crazy plans we might have - she would make jello with me at 3 am or go joyriding in a skiff in the harbor to take pictures off buoys or blindfold our friends and throw 'em in the back of my truck to take them to an elaborate picnic in the forest at a special spot we'd found while exploring. Last time I saw her was when I went down to Kodiak with Selma to visit for a week in 1998.

Lara just called to tell me, after Sarah called her, after Carrie's sister called her. Getting phone calls at 11:30 pm - it's never good news.

Sabine called today, telling me that her boyfriend's father had died - which I'm sure will devastate Mike, as they were extremely close.

And Virginia Tech haunts me so. And Rick's grandpa died.

I'm very ready for this week of mortality to come to a close.

So no more bad news people. It's not allowed.

Carrie will be missed deeply.

So, kiss the person next to you and tell 'em that you love 'em, and live life to the fullest. Because we never know if we'll live to 94 1/2, like Rick's grandpa, or 38 like Carrie, or 18 like Erin Peterson at Virginia Tech.