Gina and I have known each since we were little girls. It was 1968 when Gina’s family moved to MN. Our Dad’s were college roommates, so the first nights in MN were spent camped out at my folks. I remember how impressed my parents were that Gina was already reading at that early age of 4. Since our parents were such good friends it was natural that the families spent time together. Some of my earliest memories were of the Anderson’s house in St Paul – a certain tippy stool and kids posed on the stairs – we were a ragamuffin troop my sister Dana, Gina, Evan, and myself. We were also an imaginative lot, and each time we got together there were plays to create and perform for indulgent parents - general frivolity and silliness – something about gorillas jumping on the bed & Podie and Evan Shampoo. Mary & Ron had these wonderful giant bean bags that called out for a game of nesting baby birds. One of our favorite and most recurring games was Runaways. My younger sister reminded me that when we played - of course Dana & I didn’t want our younger sister Liz to play because she was too little but, Gina always included her. She would say she could be her charge. Gina would take care of her. Sometimes the games ended with hurt feelings or a bloody nose – Gina got a lot of bloody noses as a kid. But more often than not – the end of the evening would find us kids scheming for ways to extend the visit. I just don’t understand how our parents knew that we really weren’t glued together? After Ron & Mary divorced, we easily fell into a weekend routine with our Dad too. Dad would pack up the kids on Saturday or Sunday and off we went for a visit with Ron, Gina & Evan in his apartment. It was several more years before my parents divorced, but we already had the weekend Dad routine down. We were divorced kids of the 70’s together, spending our weekends at our Dads. As kids we never talked about our feelings, or what it meant to us that our parents were divorced. Back then having divorced parents was still unusual. We were just there for each other. It didn’t seem so weird when your best friend was in the same situation as you. There was a built-in camaraderie and a support system that we didn’t even realize helped us through. There was hours of swimming in the pool, trips in the back of the van – reading Archie comics, Sunday’s on the lake, reading hundreds of Trinka’s romance novels, and ski trips. We all learned how to downhill ski the same year, the Anderson kids a ½ season ahead of us – once again it was Gina who patiently stayed with little sister Liz on the bunny hill while the rest of us raced off to try our hand at more advanced slopes. Liz credits Gina’s patience and encouragement for teaching her how to ski. Gina was a really good skier and skied on the high school ski team. The last time I skied with Gina was our freshman year in college. We took a trip with our Dad’s (just the 4 of us) out to Vail. It was always an easy and natural friendship – we balanced each other out, introvert and extrovert. Gina may have been serious and reserved with people she didn’t know. But, she was always game for my schemes – and we always had a great time together. She was good on the planning and I was the good on the execution. As adults, life pulled us in different directions, but the friendship endured. Gina commented that in the 20 years I had been married and lived in my same little house in MN, she had moved 9 times and I had been to 8 of the 9 places that she lived in Milwaukee, Dallas, and of course Jersey City. In Milwaukee Gina turned me on to the Spice House. In Dallas on one of my trips we both bought ponytails - the little Asian ladies at the mart picking out just the right matching color for our hair. On another visit we toured the Book Depository where Kennedy was shot, walking around the museum with the audio phones on made us laugh. Jersey City was the best. Every time I visited, Gina had discovered new and wondrous places to take me. Our visits were a combination of adventure, tromping through the city shopping, great eats an occasional show, movie or spa treatment thrown in – but sprinkled throughout was a constant stream of dialog and conversation. She poked fun at my Midwestern mannerisms: I guess “Super Cute” isn’t a New York expression? We talked about our Mothers, family, world events, our aspirations, and the boxes left to be unpacked or packed. My last visit was one of the best. We called it A Last Hurrah since she would be moving to Boston in a couple weeks. So we packed it in - shopping, a comedy show, Broadway, great restaurants, and even a little culture at the MOMA. At the end of American Idiot the cast came out on stage, each with a guitar in hand, and sang Green Day’s “Time of Your Life”. Gina commented that she wanted to learn how to play the guitar, just so she could play that song. What a fitting homage to our weekend. We felt like we had… had the time of our lives. Gina’s last message to me was at 6:44 pm Monday Jan 24, less than 24 hours before she passed: “Love you! And I promise that we’ll have almost as much fun in Boston.” I hope you had the time of your life my dear dear friend – because I know that I did. I will miss you so.