Kathleen

Kathleen was one of my good friends in the 80s. I worked at my alma mater for about a year or so after graduation; Kathleen was in the same department. We kept up our acquaintance after we both left the university. Sometimes I wonder why because we were very different people. I mean, very different. She seemed to find me amusing but she was way, way smarter than I was. She was married for a while to Charles R. Cross, who at the time was notable for putting out a magazine called "Backstreets" that was all about Springsteen, and for starting The Rocket, which was a local music rag. (Now he's known for writing meticulous and well-received biographies of people like Kurt Kobain & Jimi Hendrix, among others).

Sometimes Kathleen and Charles would have parties and the music was always really good and the rooms crammed with (locally) famous people like John Keister and Bill Nye (who went on to be "The Science Guy"). They'd all been at the UW together. And yeah. I was nowhere near cool enough to hang out with them at these parties. We are talking about some serious arrogance here. Charles would be nice enough to me, because I was his wife's friend. But I know he knew he was way, way smarter than me.

Anyway, Kathleen had very catholic musical taste. She was responsible for turning me on to artists as various as Suzanne Vega and the Violent Femmes. And if I ever "discovered" a band to share with her it was inevitable that she already knew about them and would then turn me on to their earlier work. She made me lots of really good tapes.

We lost touch toward the end of the decade or so. She remarried and moved away. A few years ago we ran into each other at, of all the places, the Flower and Garden show. She was back in the area, living on one of the islands. She looked exactly the same. And we didn't really reconnect after that meeting, though we said we would. But I always think of her fondly and I always think of her whenever I hear this band: