The only people for me are the mad ones. The ones who are mad to love, mad to talk, mad to be saved; the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow Roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!" -- Jack Kerouac, On the RoadI think ol' Jack would have liked Lara. And had she been his friend, she never would have let him slide into the alcoholic funk of his final years. She would have called him up daily and said, "Hey Jack, you fat ass, get yer running shoes on, dude, I'm comin' over!" For all the times you did that for me, Lara, many thanks. Happy Birthday. -- Pat
Showing posts with label Pat Joseph. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pat Joseph. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
And everybody went 'Awww!'
Friday, May 4, 2007
All That Energy
I got the news from Germany, shortly after the accident. My brother Lee, who also knew and loved Lara, called to tell me. Strange that word traveled all the way to Europe before ricocheting back to me in California, but then that says something about Lara and the deep, lasting influence she had on everyone she knew. It’s clear from other peoples’ remembrances here that we all carried Lara with us across time and distance and it’s easy to see how the news must have fanned out in all directions to reach us, to reach me. And then for a time it was wrenching to realize that we knew and Chad didn’t.
Since then, I can’t stop thinking about her. The memories just keep surfacing, like how she once used a power washer to clean the mange off Greedy and Chavez, or the times we went swimming together in Lake Washington during our lunch breaks at Marmot, or the time she stopped by to visit me in Boulder when I was doing a fellowship there. With her usual infectious enthusiasm, she convinced me we should go climb one of the Flatirons. As a half-assed climber at best, I didn’t have a rope or a rack, so we decided to solo it – not the smartest thing I ever did, but definitely one of the best. She would later tell me it was the most fun she’d had climbing in a long time. I knew better than to believe that, but I was flattered all the same.
That evening in Boulder, she told me she was going to marry Chad, and she was as happy as I’d ever seen her. With Lara, whose baseline always seemed just a little higher than everyone else’s, that’s saying something. I remember she was carrying a stack of fat bridal magazines in her pack, which seemed so weirdly out-of-character and yet so perfect. As other people here have mentioned, Lara didn’t see why climbing like the guys should keep her from being a girl. I’d like to raise my daughter with some of that spirit.
As it happens, I had a dream about her just before she left for Alaska. I hadn’t been in touch for a while but that dream served as impetus to email her. I told her that Pati and I were expecting another child, and she told me about her and Chad’s climbing plans. We made tentative plans to meet up in Seattle over Memorial Day weekend. Instead, I’m going to fly up tomorrow for her memorial service, which is just so unspeakably sad.
She always said she was going to die young, and when your friends are climbers, every leave-taking carries that little twinge of dread that this goodbye may be the last. Still, you never really expect it. Especially with Lara. How could all that boundless energy ever come to an end? How is it possible that she’s no longer there? How?
I’ll miss you terribly, LB. I miss you so much already.
Love, Pat
Since then, I can’t stop thinking about her. The memories just keep surfacing, like how she once used a power washer to clean the mange off Greedy and Chavez, or the times we went swimming together in Lake Washington during our lunch breaks at Marmot, or the time she stopped by to visit me in Boulder when I was doing a fellowship there. With her usual infectious enthusiasm, she convinced me we should go climb one of the Flatirons. As a half-assed climber at best, I didn’t have a rope or a rack, so we decided to solo it – not the smartest thing I ever did, but definitely one of the best. She would later tell me it was the most fun she’d had climbing in a long time. I knew better than to believe that, but I was flattered all the same.
That evening in Boulder, she told me she was going to marry Chad, and she was as happy as I’d ever seen her. With Lara, whose baseline always seemed just a little higher than everyone else’s, that’s saying something. I remember she was carrying a stack of fat bridal magazines in her pack, which seemed so weirdly out-of-character and yet so perfect. As other people here have mentioned, Lara didn’t see why climbing like the guys should keep her from being a girl. I’d like to raise my daughter with some of that spirit.
As it happens, I had a dream about her just before she left for Alaska. I hadn’t been in touch for a while but that dream served as impetus to email her. I told her that Pati and I were expecting another child, and she told me about her and Chad’s climbing plans. We made tentative plans to meet up in Seattle over Memorial Day weekend. Instead, I’m going to fly up tomorrow for her memorial service, which is just so unspeakably sad.
She always said she was going to die young, and when your friends are climbers, every leave-taking carries that little twinge of dread that this goodbye may be the last. Still, you never really expect it. Especially with Lara. How could all that boundless energy ever come to an end? How is it possible that she’s no longer there? How?
I’ll miss you terribly, LB. I miss you so much already.
Love, Pat
