2008-01-29

Diplomat. Official. Friend.

Jon called me today at work to tell me. Because we've been friends for a really long time. Because he didn't want me to have to find out on the news.

Depending on where you live, the headline varies. Globe Sportswriter's Son Found Dead. Diplomat From Hingham Shot Dead In Pakistan. US Security Official Commits Suicide. Diplomat. Envoy. Father of three. Another sad little headline flitting across the screen on CNN. Keith. My friend Keith.

I go into my email and look at our last messages to one another, just weeks ago. Did I miss something? Of course I didn't. You can't know. You can't do that to yourself. Jon has told me this. My mother has told me this. My sister has told me this. But I sit on the couch in the living room with the lights off, laptop in front of me, and I try to decipher the emails just the same.

Even though we couldn't have been less alike in terms of appearance, disposition and political leanings, Keith was one of my best, dearest friends in junior high and high school. He could always make me laugh, and he was always quick to tell me when I was acting unnecessarily put-out over something: "Of course people make fun of you for the way you dress. Look, if you DON'T want people to make fun of you, then don't dress that way. But don't pretend that you're not after the attention -- you are." He wouldn't tolerate self-pity from me, and I still think of him whenever I've put together some particularly ridiculous outfit. He loved to push my buttons, loved to get me worked up when he would spew his conservative rhetoric. We'd scream at each other in his car, but at the end of the night he would always claim to be my "devoted soulmate."

We had a shitload of fun. We would drive around Hingham listening to really awful 80's dance music. Rick Astley was a particular favorite. I also remember Thespian Night of our senior year, when we all pitched in and bought some kind of fancy cheeseboard for his mother, and Keith taking the microphone and announcing: "Let me know if any of you want to come over to my house and cut the cheese."

When we graduated high school, and I went off to Florida to be a theatre major, he wrote in my yearbook: "Are you aware that Tampa is a place that all Catholics must travel to once in their lifetimes?"

As the years went by, we'd check in on one another periodically. He got married and had triplets (two boys and a girl). In one email, not long after they were born, he told me that of the three, Amelia had the best disposition so far. Didn't cry much. Was more or less sleeping through the night. "I have told her that if our house ever catches on fire, she'll be the one I take out first. She seems pleased by this information."

Diplomat. Security Official. He listened to Rick Astley. He made awful comments about my breasts in the middle of the library. He was my friend. He was coming back to visit. I miss him.

lisamcc at 7:48 p.m.

5 comments so far
Lynette Estes
2008-01-29 23:16:12
Oh Lisa. This just breaks my heart. I'm so sorry.
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lj lindhurst
2008-01-30 17:58:20
So sorry to hear about your friend. That is really terrible...
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Jess
2008-01-30 21:46:34
I'm sorry, Lisa.
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scurvyann
2008-01-31 15:34:13
That is horrible. So unfair. I'm sorry Lees.
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Joanna
2008-02-11 14:04:02
Great tribute for a truly unforgettable guy.
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