Becky is gone

I was in a Shakespeare play many years ago, in South Dakota, in a new modern theater, with great costumes. Those are the key points and all that I remember. I would like to say the play was As You Like It, but even that has faded. There was a forest, or garden, I was a king, pretending to be someone else, and I walked around a lot with my hand on my hip. Many nights, the actor who played the fool would get stoned and when I would be offering him king-like advice, he would giggle.

The most beautiful woman in all the Midwest was cast as the female lead. She was lithe and sexy in that fresh faced and clean American way that is really only honestly possible in the Midwest. I can not remember a time she was not smiling. I was immediately attracted to her.

In some ways she was a super sexy Wilma Flintstone. She was so physically attractive that I was sometimes able to forget that she was also brilliant and funny. We ended up dating for a few weeks, until her brutish boyfriend from Rapid City found out and drove all the way to out peaceful campus to promise to kill me if I ever so much as asked Becky to dance.

I may have been more fearless back then, or just stupid, but the attraction I felt for Becky was not going to be intimidated away. One weekend we decided that what we needed was a big city, room service and a big bed. At that time the Kansas City Hyatt had one of those spinning bars on the top of the building. You could actually sit down and leave a trail of peanuts all the way around the circle, as the floor spun slowly offering unimpressive views of an old unimpressive city.

As the bar slowly spun and I placed peanuts into the non-moving shelf that ran next to us, we began to talk with our waiter. He was fun and funny, handsome and had stories to tell. We made plans to meet the next day and we spent the entire time in his company, touring thrift stores and drinking. There was a moment that weekend where the world stood still. Becky and I and our waiter friend, back at his simple but lovely home, drinking a glass of wine. There was some sort of classical music playing in a back room, we had spent an eventful day learning the secrets to this new, but terribly boring city. All of a sudden, one of the most romantic and memorable moments in all my life just sort of rolled into the room, capturing all three of us in one of those times where just everything is in its right place.

Our sneaky relationship would last, in some form or another, forever. Becky and I spoke on the phone often, and as I started to lead a completely different life, she and I would find time to meet, first in LA, then New York, once in Alaska, a couple of times in Seattle and almost living together in New York. She even met me to work on the house in Pittsburgh for a weekend.

We also had the ability to go long stretches of time without hearing a peep. For a while she was married, as was I. The phone would ring and all of a sudden we were close, loving one anothers life choices and laughing, always laughing. A brilliant woman always, she could find humor in any situation. She called my mom "Bitchin' Lenore" until the day she died, then she just called her my mother.

In all these years, from Kansas City to Amsterdam, Becky has bounced in and out of my life, rarely making a peep to those around. I did not introduce her to other friends, not out of shame, but more out of keeping Becky all too myself. She had that power that men find attractive and women find intimidating. She could walk into any room, and I have seen her walk into a great variety of rooms, and she would own it. Not just her beauty, but her attitude, which almost always screamed this is my room, welcome to it. What became a life long running gag was that almost any woman who has had an important role in my life becomes a Becky.

In many ways, all the Becky's I know will always carry on the legacy of Becky, Rebecca, a woman I met, loved, liked, shared memories, honored and will always carry with me the most cherished of places in my heart.

Rebecca died recently. I know very little about how and why and to be honest, I am not that interested. Death is waiting patiently for all of us, it is part of our process. Becky lived life like a wild fire, breezing around, causing trouble and being uniquely beautiful and powerful.

Even wild fires burn out.