My Very Best Friend

My Very Best Friend

Barbara Perrin was very the best friend I ever had, and she remained that way for more than 40 years. We first met in the office of our college newspaper and talked about school events and politics. Although Barbara was normally a very quiet and shy person, she warmed up to me immediately and I responded in kind. We ended up in each other’s homes and classes and spent many happy hours working on that school paper. She taught me my first proofreading marks—and so many other things about printing and publishing that were to eventually be used every day of my life in my publishing career.

We shared all our joys, sorrows, and our secrets together in long conversations that lasted until the wee hours of the morning. Although she was a year younger than me, she was my advisor, my mentor, and my intimate companion. We became part of each other’s families—and workplaces over the years. She would get me a job. I would get her a job and vice versa, up until the last. We minded each other’s apartments and cared for each other’s pets. We crocheted, knitted, painted, and wrote together. And we dreamed together. And debated the politics of the day, while most often, we were in complete agreement on that score!

I cannot even begin to tell you how much I admired her. She was courageous, honest, ethical, diplomatic, caring, nurturing, and loyal to the nth degree. She loved animals and also always had a dog, or a cat, or a dog and and a cat, or more than one dog or cat around. I remember some of them—Benny the cat, Krupa, the dog, Schatzi the cat, and Cassidy the dog. One time, my sister and I stayed over by Barbara’s house and we had brought a catnip plant for Benny. The idea was for Benny to nibble on the bottom leaves so he would leave Barbara’s many plants alone. We went out to a flea market and by the time we came back, Benny was reeling and the catnip plant was utterly destroyed. All of us could not stop laughing because we knew that Benny was having a high time of it and would soon be all right.

Barbara was a great organizer and innovator. She organized many church fairs in New York. We would go to crafting sessions in the weeks leading up to the fairs and make things to sell to raise funds for the church. People would donate things. Then we would mind the table and sell the things for the church. There was also a whole luncheon menu. My particular favorite on that menu was the waffles and lingonberries. I just loved the idea of eating something so “exotic” and it tasting so good. It was so much fun. Everything we did with Barbara was fun.

One time, when I was unemployed, I was just thinking that I needed a small sum more to manage on the unemployment money. I had no idea how to get it. Barbara knew I was out of work, but I hadn’t mentioned any sums to her. In her quiet way, she knew! She KNEW! She called me up and asked if I would do some cleaning in her apartment for the home study that was needed for her to be able to adopt. Did I tell you that it was the exact amount I needed?

Barbara had a way of expressing her love with ACTION. She wasn’t one to say a lot of fancy words like I am doing right now. She wasn’t one to be kissy kissy like I am. She would just quietly do what she knew a person would need or want. And that LOVE just came right through ALL of her actions.

She was politically active all her life for the causes she believed in. One of the most interesting times we had was when we had made stencils and then went out with a group of people in the dead of night to spray paint the stencils on the sidewalk to raise consciousness against nuclear weapons. My job was to watch out for police, who, fortunately, never caught us.

We marched together against war. We demonstrated against the Ku Klux Klan. And yes, she brought Martin along. She never felt he was “too young” to care about these issues. She campaigned for Barack Obama and always worked in the polls on Election Day.

I’m sure Melinda has told many of you about what a keen sense of humor Barbara had. She sure did! There was the time she and her dad, Bob, and Martin, and Jimmy and I all marched in a Halloween Parade in Brooklyn. Bob didn’t have a costume but I had on an alien mask. I took Bob’s hand and told people. “I am abducting him.” All of us laughed and laughed and laughed about that.

Barbara had the same favorite movie I did—Mel Brooks’ “History of the World: Part I.” If you haven’t seen it, check it out the next time it’s on cable. You’ll be wishing as I did—spoiler alert—that there was a Part II, which alas there isn’t. You’ll see what I mean about the puns and the humor that was so much a part of our friendship—the silly little things that would have us in gales of laughter.

When I was sad or blue, Barbara was just the right person to turn to. She would listen quietly and then just THINK. Then she would answer calmly, and whatever she said was not only comforting and sympathetic. It was also practical and immediately useful. That was Barbara all over.

When she decided to adopt, I knew she would be a great mom. Somehow I knew it was going to be someone like Martin—aware, sweet, sociable, charismatic, talented, and intelligent. What else would a child of Barbara’s be like? She would send me pictures of him. I remember the first picture I ever saw of Martin. “He’s gonna be a heartbreaker,” I told her. “He is adorable.” Naturally, Barbara agreed completely with me. I was so happy and proud that I was asked participate in his baptism ceremony, lighting a special candle for him before his godmother made a welcoming speech to him.

Every year, even after she moved out to Ohio, we exchanged Christmas gifts. She would send me framed pictures of Martin. And, being cat people Barbara and I always made sure to include some cat-themed items among our gifts to each other—except for last Christmas. That batch from Barbara was all about Hawaii—Martin on a Cheer calendar and a lei and other Hawaiian things. That was Barbara’s way of sharing her delight in Martin’s first year of college and keeping me up to date on it.

Never in this life will I ever have another friend like Barbara. Yes, I have family that are precious to me. Yes, I have a darling husband who I adore with all my heart and soul—but Barbara was my friend for all time and we shall be together in whatever the afterlife is. She was there before I met my husband, and she was one of the few friends who remained after we married. It didn’t matter who was leading in the race of life. Sometimes she outranked me and sometimes I outranked her but we slipped easily and seamlessly from one position to the other without even noticing it. If I could ever, ever be half the person that Barbara was, I would be one great human being!

When she made the move to Ohio, well, I thought I was very sad then because I had to remain behind in New York. But then, I had an opportunity to introduce her to the company I was working for and we again were working together on two journals. We had seven more glorious years together of collaborating, celebrating, complaining, and chatting in that job. Just two weeks ago, we chatted about Martin’s newest college plans, my new permanent, and various situations on our journals, including an upcoming phone call that she was going to have with one of our editors.

I always hoped somehow that, once Martin was launched into the world, Barbara would be able to visit again or live again in New York. Selfishly, I guess I hadn’t realized that, true to form, Barbara attracted to her another circle of loving, special people like she had had in New York. Although I am sad that she won’t be coming back to New York, I am so glad that she had all of you during the Ohio part of her life. I am so glad that Martin had and still has all of you too. My special thanks to Martin’s cheer coach Melinda, for her help in getting me over to the church and for comforting me about Martin and Barbara over the past week. Indeed she brings the word CHEER into Cheerleading. And Martin, should you want to come back to the East Coast, our door is always open to you as part of what we consider our“extended family.”

Well, I could talk forever about Barbara, but we must all get on with everything. Thank you for allowing me to share with you.

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Note: This eulogy was written to be read at a memorial service for Barbara Perrin in June 2012. I traveled from New York City to Ohio to read this and join with others who attended the memorial in our grief for the loss of Barbara. Unfortunately, I fell and broke my ankle in three places so this was read for me by another person. Today, March 3rd, is her birthday. In honor of that, I present this memorial to my friends on Facebook so that all of you will know what a wonderful person Barbara was and how blessed I was to have her in my life. I think of her every single day.