Memories of Dana

When I went to the sleep clinic, you stayed with me, and slept all night in a chair. I told the doctors that if they heard any snoring, it was coming from you, not me. Holding baby alligators (or were they crocodiles?) on a swamp tour of New Orleans. And the midnight voodoo tour. Finding a mouse in the house we rented on Martha's Vineyard. Winning a weekend in Vermont at the SLA auction, an auction you ran (how did that happen? But yay!) Coming with you to pick out your wedding cake, a cake you helped design. Having dinner with Claudia, Ingvar, Katerina and Julie in Seattle, and later dessert at their house in Bill Gates' territory. Finding out that JFK Jr. was staying at the hotel I wanted us to stay at in San Francisco, the same weekend we were there (we stayed elsewhere). Listening to I Feel Bad About My Neck driving to the Berkshires. The fire alarm going off at 1 a.m. in Philadelphia and we were 20-something stories up. Discovering "the little cookie" at the Hi-Rise Bread Company in Boston. Shopping at Chelsea Market. Going to see Mario Cantone on Broadway. Waiting at the stage door for Carrie Fisher. Seeing "Celebrity Autobiography" at Guild Hall. And Gwyneth Paltrow signing books in East Hampton. Doing homework at my ramshackle rental in Roslyn. Fondue at your 40th birthday. Finding out Persy was a girl. Passover Seder at the 92nd st. Y. Laughing over a parody of Downton Abbey at your chemo session. And you, making plans to go to California with Steve this summer. And always you there, laughing, smiling, having a good time, and being real, the only way you knew how to be. Now life will never be the same.