Those of you who are long-time readers may recall that a few years I disengaged from a recreational tennis league with a less than glowing review for some of the players. If I had been giving a Yelp! review it might have read “1 Star — a hard bunch to play with and enjoy.”
But there were plenty of exceptions, people I had a good time hitting with and sharing a beer with after a tough set. Sadly, I will never again raise a lob or down a cold one with Julie, one of the delightful ones. Julie passed away this week succumbing to a battle with ovarian cancer.
Julie was quite a bit younger than I was, and I can’t say I knew very much about her personal life. But I knew we shared early January birthdays. On the first Thursday of each year, the two of us would treat the tennis league to a post-play dinner of submarine sandwiches. The sandwiches were always special favorites of the league, brought in from the restaurant owned by one of our fellow players–the caprese sub always went over big.
I learned Julie was an elementary school teacher. She taught at a school just minutes away from my Westchester laboratory. It was natural for her to invite me to speak at her school’s career day. I participated several times, though it is difficult to engage 7th graders about pathology.
The first time I spoke at the school was singularly memorable. As I droned on about blood tests and biopsy specimens and medical school, an odor — a quite terrible, offensive odor, began to permeate the air. It was worse than any autopsy suite. The students began to gag. They looked like they were going to retch.
Not having a classroom teacher with me, I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t familiar with school policy, I didn’t want to excuse the kids into the hall. I just kept talking.
Eventually, one of the boys slipped out and grabbed a real teacher, who came and cleared the room. The maintenance man eventually discovered the culprit, a blocked drain pipe. Julie and I shared many laughs about that episode. I think she was surprised I ever agreed to return to the school for more career days, but because she was so sweet I always did.
Julie was also a writer, spending summers in the Iowa Writers Workshop. We would frequently discuss my blogs, and she would share details about her sci-fi novel-in-the making. Sadly she never gave me any of it to read.
After I left the tennis league, our paths no longer crossed. I did hear of her cancer diagnosis and emailed her my best wishes. I am sure she responded, but I can’t find her letter. I wish I could. I am sure it was beautifully written.
So Julie, wherever you are now, I am sure you are playing a rousing game of doubles. And if the pipes back up again, just have a good laugh.
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