We've received word that a long-time friend was killed yesterday in a
car wreck. She and her husband moved to Maine, her home state, after
they retired from the university here a few years ago. They had a
lovely, big house in a small town up there. Her husband was badly
injured, but is expected to survive.

She was an excellent cook. While she lived here, she hosted monthly
"ladies who lunch" gatherings at her house and, less frequently,
dinner parties for colleagues and friends. We didn't always agree
culinarily -- she disliked chiles, for example, and was no fan of
lobster even though she was a New Englander -- but our dinners
together were always a treat. She was an especially gifted baker.

She loved dishes and would buy a new set on impulse in spite of her
native frugality in most matters. (She was the only person D and I
ever heard of who saved money while working as a graduate assistant!)
Her husband collected classical music recordings. She collected
dinner plates and soup bowls.

She was very intelligent and not just in an academic way. An
excellent diarist, she kept in touch with friends down here via
periodic long emails packed with telling observations about their
lives up north. While she still lived here, she adopted a stray fox
terrier. She trained it to do amazing tricks. While it's certainly
true the dog was very smart, it was apparent it had an outstanding
trainer, as well.

The suddenness of her death has overwhelmed us. It can't be true that
she is dead. With the painful loss of Christy, we were somewhat
prepared by the duration of her hospitalization. With this new loss,
we are left empty, uncertain what to do or say. Grief is a
hollowness.
--

modom