Maggie’s enduring qualities have been on my mind. Her imagination, creativity, and sharp wit; her wide-ranging knowledge of divergent subjects along with the ability to talk in an engaging way about every one of them. Her laugh. Memories have been flooding in. Our closest friendship was 6th grade through high school, such a dramatic, quickly evolving stage of life. We were fast friends and later part of a group with duos and trios and various changing alliances, but overall, a fun crowd.
I loved reading that Maggie and Lisa were recently creating MadLibs. In 7th grade Maggie persuaded our teacher to let us lead the class in MadLibs. We stood up front and called out for nouns, verbs, etc. and then read the resulting stories which were hilarious only to us. We continued week after week, long past anyone else’s interest. Maggie could seemingly cast a spell over her teachers and other adults. She also found great humor in them, imitating their foibles and speech patterns.
There is a soundtrack to my memories. Maggie held her phone up to the radio so I could hear Hall & Oates sing “She’s Gone” for the first time. Pippo took us to see them in concert in San Francisco when we were too young to drive ourselves. I remember Maggie held court with the music reviewer from the Chronicle and others seated near us. In many ways she was light years ahead of me, but I "got" her and played my supporting role well. We spent hour together talking and creating stories. Favorite spots were the upstairs space in Maggie’s house, the stairwell in Macy’s or the dressing rooms where we tried on “college clothes.” She staged my first kiss. My boyfriend was afraid to make a move so Maggie sent us to a quiet corner and insisted we get it over with. We saw American Graffiti four times and could quote all the best lines.
Maggie introduced me to other music and would sing for me on command. I most often requested Levon by Elton John. We saw Hall & Oates again when we were in our 40’s. Fun for nostalgia, otherwise disappointing. After the concert we spent a night at the family cabin in Long Barn, recalling earlier trips, when we were deeply amused by Jane and Pippo. Parental quirks are so funny with a friend to witness and offer a glance or eyeroll. We were fascinated by Mike and his friends. They were always kind to us; letting us crash a New Year’s Eve party when we were 15. Lots of dancing and kissing at midnight but we felt safe with them.
While our lives moved in different ways, a thread of connection endured well into our 50’s. Each year on June 1st we called to surprise the other by saying “June Fool!” When we were 12, Maggie stayed on the line after a phone call. I hung up and tried to make another call, but she was still there, each time shouting “June Fool!” June Fool was the name of our rock band. None of us really played an instrument but we had the name, the album cover photos, and a magazine article about our stardom that she wrote and illustrated.
Every letter I have from Maggie is full of laugh out loud humor with wry tales from her daily life. Maggie created comical names for the to/from addresses. My favorite is from Fumio Scanstinkmo, c/o Our Lady of Perpetual Agony Convent, to Oil E. Wagonwheel, Peninsula Adolescence Archives. True, I am one of her archivists. I have a collection of her artwork, comics and caricatures, and co-written short stories and plays. I assumed there would be a day when we would share these preserved treasures.
Maggie made a quilt in honor of my wedding in 2001. The borders are midnight and denim blue. The color gradually fades to pale, sky blues in the center. It is beautiful. Any single one of her eclectic skills could have been enough to navigate and hone. Maggie was a rare human being, generous and giving, irreverent and wise, and so extraordinarily talented. I wish she could have stayed here longer; I would love to be able to laugh with her again.
With love, Ellie Justice
