Saturday, January 28, 2023
I write full of warm and happy memories of time spent with Lillian; her husband Mike and daughter Lori; and her son, David, a childhood friend of mine. Sleepovers and cookouts every summer, rolling down the lawn, driving through the woods to swim at the lake, toasting marshmallows and watching fireworks on the Fourth of July. The first time I ever caught (and released) a firefly and the first time I ever held a sparkler was in their backyard. These magical moments illuminate me as pure and bright after nearly half a century of klieg-lit nights and dark, daunting days.
My parents were into health food, but going to see David and Lori meant a good chance of Lillian giving us Fritos as we played down in the rec room or spooning Cool Whip over a dessert in the kitchen. It was always heartwarming to see the friendship she and my mother had shared since they were little girls, and maintained as best they could even as they moved further away through retirement. I looked up to David, half a year older than me, and admire the humane scientific pursuit and academic service to which he’s devoted his life.
Thank you to my “Aunt” Lillian and her family, for those classic Americana summers of fun and treats, and most of all friendship—a cherished part of my childhood that lives on in me to this day. We sincerely regret we’re unable to express our love and condolences in person to David and Lori and their families.
