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Kathleen

While my sister Ellen (in the polka dots) cultivated the art of fun, Kathleen was the drama queen. I always think of these pictures, taken over Easter vacation in 1968, when Kathleen was 8. I was home from college.

A puppy had shown up. My mother was clear: no way. High tragedy. Photos had to be taken to remember the fleeting moment. Photos were also necessary to record the fact Kathleen decided something was wrong with her wrist and it had to be elaborately wrapped in bandages and prominently displayed in each photo. A dark day, indeed.

The real melodrama, of course, was that I would have to go back to school in Chicago. Ellen was cool and probably happy to have one less sister crowding her bedroom space. But Kathleen would sob and cling to me. 

Kathleen and I have a special relationship -- twins, sharing a November 3 birthday -- except for the fact that she was born 11 years after me. The Big Sister and the Baby. Early on, we wanted to think we were just alike -- artsy chocolate lovers with button noses. But I used my ear for languages and she used hers for music. When she was young, she was a scaredy-cat. I remember Ellen and I throwing ourselves into a steep creek and sliding down on our butts across boulders and rapids that would terrify a seasoned kayaker. Kathleen stared on in horror.

On the other hand, where I was shy and socially inept, Kathleen took on everyone. All charm.

All charm: her friend Laney and she visited me in Rochester the summer after they graduated from high school. The picture below shows their antics in front of the camera -- pantyhose on the head, underwear on the outside. She just never lost that flair for drama.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Kathleen! I love you.

11.3.01