Shana had nothing but nice things to say about everyone within earshot. Don't mind that sudden sharp stabbing sensation as you start to walk away, that's just her way of bonding with the rest of the group you just left.
Howard has enough love for several cats, many dogs, a multiplying party of goats, a few geese, chickens, chickens, oh and more chickens, guinea pigs galore and still has enough left over for friends, family, and one equally loving Bob.
Kathy sells the dream, not the product, to any of her family, friends, friends of family, friends of friends, friends of family friends, friends of friends' friends, or anyone else who hasn't heard--and learned to run from--the spiel.
Colleen was, easily, the fastest talker I've ever met in my life. You had to work so hard to be able to follow along that you didn't even notice you couldn't get a word in edgewise for the entire conversation.
Larry is the pear-shaped brother who bears the least family resemblance (almost none) and handles all of the accounting and other financial details. Quiet and unassuming as he is tall, a wry sense of humor is filed away underneath.
Yvonne taught high school freshman English, always got her hair cut on the full moon (because it grows back fuller, don't you know), and consistently wore black or dark brown on the day of a pop quiz or a test.
Tim felt terrible that we drove so far to read at an event he organized when the audience totaled him, his friend, and us. We said it's poetry, happens all the time. We all read to the magnificent old church.
Micheal must have had very rich parents, judging by his house and belongings and the car he'd gotten on his sixteenth birthday but couldn't drive until he'd healed from his hip surgery, though I never once saw either of them.
Adam wasn't just The Clash, he was The Sex Pistols, Clockwork Orange, and Quadrophenia. He was the kid who wanted so badly to fit in he'd do anything to stick out. We liked him because and in spite of it.
Martín was subjected to derisive verbal abuse from his peers after he became the first to purchase a new car. He called bullshit on them all, reminding them he'd never criticized them for leaving their car payments with the bartender.
Billy could have been a celebrity impersonator for Olympia Dukakis, and had a bad habit of hiring managers prone to drinking on the job; then she'd have to fire them. Something more than chance, there, but I never knew what.
Andrea loves poetry, and poetry loves her back. A head tilt and an eye lock give away her focus on what's being said. A candle burning at both ends, finger-twirled between rock-and-roll drumbeats, she light-paints passion.
Jack silenced a loudmouth by walking over to his table, pulling out a wad of cash, steadily, deliberately, peeling and plunking twenties growling, "Tell me what it's going to take to shut you up for the rest of my meal."
George wept, openly, as he told me a story, the first night we met, sitting in the middle of a busy downtown NYC restaurant, at a table of thirteen. I know no better example of how to be a human.
Mike whistles his s's everso gently and the scent of pipe smoke yawns from the creases in his clothes with every motion. He photographs the whorls, swirls, and eddies of water the way others might photograph the laughter of children.
Rosemary pronounces her own name differently than her husband does, but no one really minds. If you're not paying attention she might come across as scattered or even flighty. She knows enough answers to know that there are no answers.
Grace was so good at her job that she knew when she could get away with doing what she was told to do instead of what was supposed to be done--lesson-teaching the person whose ass she didn't cover.
Fran placed another order. I asked if this one was a "hot" order, too. She drawled, "Honey, they're all hot. Everything we do is hot. Our jobs come in three flavors: 'hot', 'hot hot', and 'hot, hot, oooh so hot'.
Lisa was a little pigeon-toed and knock-kneed in gradeschool, and was by turns blurtingly funny and withdrawn. She was the first to show me that you can measure the level of a person's brain activity by their eyes.
Rick was the groom in the trailer trashiest wedding I've ever attended. It was held in a church, alright, but in the basement. Pot luck. Never seen a man more publicly bullied by a woman in my life. He beamed.
Bruce never said boo to me until the day I stood in the hallway, blood shocking from a 3" forearm gash. I'd glanced against the edge of a recently sheared-clean pipe railing. He expertly butterflied it closed. Then apologized.
Dick interviewed me while I worked for his biggest customer. When I accepted the job we agreed he should call them. I asked for one day's delay to notify them myself, first. He agreed. Then called minutes after I left.
Nancy was first chair trumpet the year I was in the third section. Watching her play one day during a rehearsal I realized in a crystalline moment that whatever that thing is that makes musician's great, I didn't have it.
Pat lived in the perfect house on the perfect street and through sheer force of will believed everything was perfect with her children past the point when it became clear to everyone else that they weren't perfect, they were normal.
Linda was one of the first people whose opinion on poetry held any weight for me, and, in the end, the bitter wedge that cleaved me free from a community of draggers-down. Cut it to the bone without gerunds.
Gen was 73 when she told me how she'd smoked cigarettes for 6 months when she was 16 years old and that not a week goes by, still, when she doesn't get a pang of craving to have one more.
David is a mischievous boy who never grew up because he never needed to. Lives his life arms out and face front, laughs at the absurd, damns the stupid, withstands the painful. Never at a loss for the right wine.
Hilde retired from the only job she'd ever had the year we met. She once told the story of her husband. He asked her to bury him with a fifth of whiskey; she did--after passing it through her kidneys.
Lin said, as we were putting the last stamp on the last envelope to send out the wedding invitations, "You know, I never really liked these invitations." A self-proclaimed bitch who was ferociously 100% for you, or 100% against.
Mitch was stunned and amazed the first time he heard Elvis Costello. He had only ever listened to pop music on the radio and assumed that everything else was lousy and must have low production values. Golfed on tippy-toe.
Tod is, easily, the smartest person I know. Gifted with languages (human and computer) in ways I can only dream of, he's remained my friend through the easy and the difficult as if they were identical. He may be right.