Happy 52nd Birthday Muff

Dear beloved Muff,
Today would have been your 52nd birthday, had you not passed beyond the veil of tears in 2009.
I like to think I would have found a great little gift for you, probably something Celtic themed, that you would have enjoyed using. I also hope that I could find a card that would tell you how much I cherished our friendship.

Instead, today I went to a Rizzmic exercise class at the Sammamish Club out in the wilds of Issaquah, which is a town you would have liked visiting. As I huffed and puffed and danced my enormously fat body around the floor, I thought of you, and I wondered what you would have thought of Rizzmic. You had quite a bit of natural talent in dance, so I believe you would have loved it.
I dedicated my long and sweaty workout to your memory, and I hope that you know that I think of you every June 1st, and I still miss you desperately.

When I go to the 30th college reunion this year, I will, I am sure, see your face along the corridors of Mary Ben and Mary Fran dorms, in the seats of TDH, and in the stacks of the library. Though the place is much changed, the bones of Clarke are the same. I only wish that I could get them to acknowledge you with a distinguished alumni award. But I gather those are only for old rich ladies who have given millions to the college over the years. You never had the money to give, but you always contributed to many charities in Marshalltown with your time and talent. The world was certainly a better place with you in it.

While I am in Dubuque, I will try to find Marios and toast to you with some Irish drink, and I will have a great time showing Nick and Jim around my favorite town in Iowa. I will hope that you are looking down from above and enjoying my rediscovery of our Alma Mater, just as if you were there.
You liked gambling, and I believe there will be gambling on the Riverboat cruise and there will also be drinking and eating of some of that great Clarke cuisine.

I imagine that Sister Carol and Ellen G will hardly recognize me, nor will I recognize them, as they've both got white hair now, and Sister Carol is retired. I will try to see Sister Sarah McAlpin and some of the other English and History dept people for you, and I will let them know how successful you were in your chosen and long-awaited career as a librarian. I will try to check your dorm room, the end one that you shared with Mary Karl in Mary Francis Hall while I am there, and I hope to trot up to Redwing and see the TV up there, where you and I watched the birth of MTV and laughed our rumps off, swearing it would be a flash in the pan.

And I will visit the Onion (union) and have a drink in your honor, remembering our study sessions and getting drunk on beer so that I could learn to dance. It is hard to believe it was 30 years ago, already. Time has just flown by. Still, it seems like so long ago that I lost you, my friend.

Rest in peace.

Happy 50th Birthday

On June 1st, just two days ago, my friend Muff would have turned 50.
She deserved to turn a half-century, and it chaps my old hide that she isn't here to celebrate with her family and friends.
Yes, I still miss her, and I was thinking that I would have enjoyed talking to her over the phone on June 1, and joking about how old we are getting, and how set in our ways.
I would have loved to have sent her a gift, some Irish Breakfast tea, or a wool shawl,perhaps.
Since this is National Doughnut Day, we stopped by Mighty O Doughnuts near Greenlake in Seattle, and I got 8 vegan doughnuts,and I took two of them into Nicks schoolroom to share with his teacher, Mr Finch, who then insisted that two of his students eat them.
I know that Muff loved doughnuts and would probably have had a nice chocolate glazed if she had been here with me today.
So I raise my doughnut high and say, "Belated Happy Birthday, beloved best friend!"
May you have all the treats you could ever want in heaven.
Love,
DeAnn

An Email from Another Friend of Muffs

I just found this email from a lovely former Marshalltown resident, Valerie, who knew and loved Muff and was also saddened by her loss. She found this blog and sent me this wonderful email on April 3, but I've been so busy I haven't checked my gmail account for two weeks. Thankfully, Valerie agreed to let me post this letter, and in subsequent emails, has said that she believes Muff is my guardian angel. I hope she's right.

DeAnn:

I just visited your blog on Muff for the first time. I recently connected with one old drama club friend, which led to BJ, and another and another. I too had the privilege of being a friend of Muff & BJ's in high school. Muff and I and another friend (Brian Peters) started a brief-lived mime troupe - which shocked all who knew me as a great talker.

I couldn't wait to leave M'town and did in 1981 and soon lost touch with all but family. I eventually moved back to Marshalltown in 1995 and was thrilled to meet her at Hastings one day! We didn't pal around as I was swamped with a new baby and 2 other children and an extended aging family, as well as our new son being terribly ill for a long diagnosing period with near-death experiences for him, my husband, and then loosing his mom and my dad all within 6 mo's. in 1999. I was also trying to get my BA degree and we moved to TX.

I learned of Muff's death from the high school reunion memorial page and was shocked beyond horror! But somehow, now that I can read your beautiful words on a precious person that I lost touch with for so many years, brings back all the goodness of hope that Muff (and BJ) always made me feel. Not knowing her for the college years and our younger adult life and seeing it from your eyes is refreshingly familiar.

I found myself saying, "yup, that was just like Muff!" so many times through my tears. I am oddly comforted by one (and only one) fact, that she went as gently out of this world as she passed through it. Like an angel's whisper in a baby's ear. Not being torn from us in a long-suffering and pain-filled way - brings the only thing near comfort in an otherwise unfair-as-hell lifestory of such a beloved and lovely person.

I just wanted to say thank you for what you are doing there and to wish you years of the ability to do it!

Thank you,

Valerie (Prochaska) Purcell

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.

Third Anniversary

Next Tuesday marks the third anniversary of the passing of my best friend, Muff Larson, God rest her soul.
Last week there were a plethora of Irish shows on PBS about Ireland, Irish music, Irish history and language and Irish artists and authors. I recorded several on our DVR and tried my best to watch them all, though it was hard because as Tommy Makem was extolling the virtues of the Irish landscape and historic places, I kept thinking I could call Muff on the phone and tell her about this great program that was on, and hope she could watch it so that we could discuss it. Then comes the pain of realization that I will never be able to call her again, hear her voice, chat with her about all and sundry, laugh about our foibles, and share as friends. Then I cry, and wonder why, again, such a wonderful person was taken from this world too soon.
I hope you're having a marvelous craic wherever you are, my friend.
You are still dearly missed.

Happy Birthday, Muff

Yesterday would have been Muff's 49th birthday.
I would have called her, wished her a happy birthday and we could have talked for at least a few hours about all kinds of things, from books to writing to her family and her wonderful job at the Marshalltown Library.

I would have sent her a gift of some kind, usually something with an Irish theme, and some books, of course, because we shared a deep love of reading.


She would have scoffed at all the new E-book readers, such as the iPad, and we would have claimed solidarity in our choice of having real books in hand to enjoy.

My bright star and friend has been gone for two years and two months, and I still miss her all the time. I think of her often, and wish I could talk to her just once more.

There are not enough words to describe the hole left in my soul.

Second Anniversary

Yesterday was the second anniversary of my best friend's death.
Yes, I still miss her.

I found this news item that I know she would have loved, because she would have been thrilled that our new president was a reader, and that he bought books in our home state of Iowa (in Iowa City, which isn't too far from Marshalltown).
In raw video http://news.shelf-awareness.com/ct.jsp?uz3642037Biz9365843, see the
Customer-in-Chief at Prairie Lights last Thursday.

Coming Up on the Second Anniversary

In roughly three weeks it will be the 2nd anniversary of Muff's death.
Though the 'hole' she left behind in my heart hasn't healed completely, it is less painful than it was two years ago.

Still, not a week goes by that I don't think of her, and remember what a good friend she was to me.
She would have enjoyed being on Facebook and chatting with me about books and libraries. She would have commiserated with me through the hard financial times my family has slogged through for the past two years, and she would have rejoiced in Nick's growth and accomplishments. She was, and I like to believe still is, his godmother.

She gave me sane and rational advice when I needed it, laughed with me about life's absurdities, and we'd cry together over the loneliness she felt in not having a life partner or someone to love who could share her appreciation of books, music, Dr Who, writing, Cyrano De Bergerac and all things Irish.

I will miss her 'sagas' and her wit, the way she ate a sandwich (she tore it into bits and ate like a mouse, in small bites) the way she would poke holes in pomposity, pretentiousness, ignorance and prejudice. She couldn't bear the fact that children were going hungry when she could help, so she sponsored a child in a third world country. She also wrote to the troops, because she felt compelled to lift their spirits and let them know they were not forgotten back home in the US.

She was remarkable, talented, brilliant and a wonderful friend who died too soon.
And she lives on in my memory.