Candice

So, I've been a little writer's blocked, and a little bummed in general lately, because my friend Candice passed away about two weeks ago. She was my friend Joe's wife, and I didn't know her overly well, but I knew her well enough to know how fun she was and what incredible spirit she had. I was feeling stymied by what to write about her; nothing seemed concrete enough to put into words or good enough to sum up the amazing presence she had. Maybe it's because I lost a friend a few years ago quite suddenly, or because I lost my aunt to cancer last year, or because I recently supported a friend through chemo, but I feel what must be just a fraction of Joe's pain so acutely right now. Candice and Joe lived in Seattle when my sister and I lived there for a spring and it was the first time I'd spent time with either of them since graduating college a few years before. Joe lived in my dorm and Candice went to a school near enough to allow them to visit each other occasionally (or maybe more often; I wasn't clued in to their exact schedule). Nevertheless, they were the only people I knew in Seattle and we were glad to get to spend time together again.

One day, we went to brunch in their red convertible. We must have been listening to NPR on the radio because Candice and I soon got on the topic of NPR shows we like. I like general favorites: Car Talk; Wait Wait, Don't Tell Me. I also love the way A Prairie Home Companion really hits the nail on the head with accents and down-homeyness and makes me miss my native midwest. Garrison Keillor's voice is soothing and he has such fantastic comedic timing and storytelling ability. I am generally pretty sensitive to and prejudiced about voices. Too many or too glaring differences between the way I speak and the way another person speaks could sour my first impression, or lasting impression, of them forever. To that end, though I appreciated the concept of This American Life, Ira Glass's minor speech impediment (can you call it that?) really rankled me. Perhaps it's because I had a speech impediment once upon a time (my mother was shocked recently to learn that I've really just gotten very good at hiding it, but I still have to think quite hard about pronouncing my Ls and Rs), but listening to his show made me uncomfortable. So there we are, driving along in Joe and Candice's convertible, the wind whipping our hair around (well, not Joe's, so much) - Candice's dark brown curls and my straight, light brown locks - and discussing NPR. I was enjoying getting to know her a little better, since I liked her so much already, until the following exchange, called over the noise of the road:

Candice: I just love This American Life, don't you?
Amy: Actually, I don't listen to it. Ira Glass's voice drives me crazy, and not in a good way.
Candice: Oh. Huh. The only person whose voice I can't stand is that Garrison Keillor.
Amy: What? Uh... I don't know if we can be friends!

Of course, I was joking, since we were already friends. In fact, Candice's faith in This American Life was a major reason I later tried (and succeeded in) putting aside my prejudices and listening to the content and came to really enjoy the show. I don't know if she ever listened to PHC, but it doesn't really matter. The point is that I was so worried about trying to write about that exchange clearly and make it a fitting tribute to Candice's memory. What I realized is that what was special about Candice to those who didn't get a chance to know her super well isn't easy to pinpoint or explain. But the fact that I knew her well enough to be saddened by her absence, and her death's effect on Joe's life, shows how welcoming she was to everyone. She was incredibly outgoing and disarmingly funny, making you feel like you really knew her, had known her all along, and how blessed you were to have had her in your life, in whatever capacity, and for however long.