I just found out my friend V died in April 1. I met her while passing through Santa Cruz in 2002. She was a lesbian Wiccan and one of the most genuine, Christlike women I’ve ever met.  She was the first to offer me shelter when I introduced myself at the Unitarian Universalist church where Whitewolf was the minister. At first, they let me park my motorcycle at their place while I camped in the forest around the corner. When they got the Scamp, a little camper they were going to use for trips to the Michigan Womyn’s Festival, I had a new home for about three weeks.

Having just bought a motorcycle in Reno, she let me borrow her leather jacket, knowing that the windbreaker and sweatshirt weren’t keeping me very warm. Donner Pass was almost as miserable as if I were in the Party. But V’s jacket, with naked mermaids on the sleeves and Triumph on the back, kept me warm from Oregon to LA. She got sick when I was in Oregon, I think. A few months later, I stopped to see her on the way down to Los Angeles. The difference was staggering, but she still had that sweet glint in her eye.

I’ll always remember her as this vivacious, redheaded goddess who burst with love,  joy, and celebration of life with every wiggle, laugh, and kind word. She was the essence of life. She always will be. Although those who loved her are feeling the loss of her passing, I don’t feel as if I have lost anything. I have gained for having known her, and my life was indelibly enriched for the experience of her.

Thank you, V, for being who you were and making my life so much grander for having the opportunity to know and love you.


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