Anne's birthday

Today is Anne's birthday. We met at Rick's College, the first week of Herr Schwartz's German class in September 1985. Any German I know, I learned in those two days of class before we started studying together. 'Studying' took the form of watching Starsky and Hutch, eating Wizard sandwiches (still the best subs ever, and so mystically named) and watching as many viewings of Ladyhawke as we possibly could (it was possible to watch it over a dozen times in those two semesters). Not only did we have the movie memorized word perfect, but we also had the audience reaction down. We knew when every sigh, every gasp, every groan would happen (never look up from putting your boots back on until after the groan so you don't have to see the blood dribble out of the Bishop's mouth).

And then there were the conversations about books. I think she won't disagree too strenuously when I say I had a longer list of books I thought she needed to read than she had for me. Of course, top of the list was getting her to read Lord of the Rings, which she didn't do until they made a movie of it. Somehow we stayed friends through all those years of her being uncultured and me being a nag.

There was Hal and Alan (thank you, Nancy Springer!), which to this day is code between us. If either of us finds a Hal and Alan book, movie or TV show, the other knows it will be good and can't wait to get her hands on it. Aragorn and Legolas had a Hal and Alan relationship (in the movies). Sam and Dean Winchester, Will and Jack, Frodo and Sam. You get the picture. Oh, and the biggest and most enduring, Duncan and Morgan, from Katherine Kurtz's Deryni books (and eventually Kelson and Dhugal, though how they could be blood brothers when Dhugal was never even mentioned in the entire first trilogy was always a bit of a concern). So many hours we spent talking about Duncan and Morgan. Which eventually gave way to David Eddings' Belgariad until Kathering Kurtz wrote some more. And then David Eddings. It went on like that for several years.

And we talked stories. At that point I wasn't yet a writer. Well, I wrote poetry, silly me, but I only talked stories. I had had other friends that I talked stories with when I was younger (I still remember some of those scenes so vividly it amazes me I wasn't watching them in a movie), but Anne was the first friend I ever had where the stories were fantasy (though the others were certainly not reality). To this day, we still have a group of characters stuck in a dungeon. We talk about them from time to time, but I'm afraid they are destined to live in limbo in a dungeon for all eternity. We've decided that though it may be mean and cruel to kill off your characters, truly, the worst thing you can do as a writer is to just abandon them in a dungeon and never tell the rest of their story.

Though I didn't become a writer until years after I met Anne, she is largely responsible for me being a writer today. (And when I say 'writer', I mean 'person who writes' (stories, specifically)). At some point, if/when I become an actual published writer (or 'author'), I have no doubt she will still be somebody I will be pointing a finger at for getting me there. Through the years of us writing our various stories (she's a little bit scifi, I'm a little bit fantasy) her brain has kept me going when my brain had thrown in the towel. Brainstorming with her is creative bliss. Even when I'm brainstorming her work, my work has benefited later. And she has talked me through more writer's blocks than I can begin to count. I can't imagine writing a book without using her brain along the way.

The only time we ever even went to the same school was that first year at Ricks. We've never been roommates. We often haven't even lived in the same state. Now she lives three houses down from me. It's almost as good as being roommates, but she doesn't have to live with my complete lack of motivation to dust. My kids call her Aunt Anne, and they adore her. My husband considers her part of the family (sometimes, I'm afraid, whether she wants to be or not). She's been my best friend and sister for going on twenty five years. I'm pretty darn lucky.

Happy birthday, Tarly

Love ya
Tawny