I originally wrote this blog draft several months ago and found it again last night on what would have been Carol’s 61st birthday.
It’s funny how memories sneak up on you.
Tonight I was sitting at home watching the Olympics when an athlete’s last name flashed across the screen: Myers. And instantly, without warning, I was back in high school thinking about my friend Carol.
Carol and I met when we started ninth grade at fourteen years old. Our mutual friend Amy introduced us—she and Carol knew each other from Temple Beth El. My family belonged to Temple Israel, so I didn’t meet Carol until high school.
Neither one of us was athletic, and we bonded immediately over surviving gym class together. We struggled through running the mile and laughed our way through tennis, neither of us taking it too seriously. Those classes turned into total belly laughs, and before long we were inseparable.
When I got a part-time job at the Maple Theater, I got Carol hired too. We spent hours behind the concession stand making popcorn, handing out Junior Mints, and sneaking into movies on our breaks. And after work, we’d inevitably end up at Denny’s, splitting a French dip late at night and talking about everything and nothing.
Like so many teenagers in the early ’80s, we were also completely hooked on Pac-Man, spending hours chasing high scores and laughing at how seriously we took the game. Not long ago, I stumbled across a silly “Pac-Man family tree” Carol once drew for me, one of those goofy creations that made perfect sense to us at the time.
And tucked in the same pile was another drawing she made during our senior year spring break trip to Fort Lauderdale—Carol sketching a cartoon version of one of us on the beach and signing it with her nickname, “Love, Chubs.”
I had forgotten about these little pieces of paper, tucked away for decades. Finding them now reminded me not just of losing Carol far too young, but of how much life we shared before that — the silly, carefree years when the future felt endless.
Even when we went off to different colleges, we stayed connected. Summers meant time together at my cottage in Harbor Springs, or Tigers games in the bleachers where we probably talked more than we watched baseball, snacking, laughing, and soaking up the sun.
After college I moved to Washington, D.C., and our visits became less frequent. When I came home, I tried to see her, but life gets busy, and now I wish we hadn’t let so much time slip by.
When I moved back to Michigan, Carol was newly married with young kids. We’d see each other now and then, but again—not as often as I wish we had.
And then came the diagnosis: breast cancer.
She fought for eighteen months before she died. We were only forty-one. She was the first friend I ever lost to cancer, and losing someone your own age changes you. It makes life suddenly feel fragile and unfair.
Carol was an incredible artist, and every once in a while I still come across something she made tucked into boxes in my basement. Little treasures that bring her right back to me. From time to time I still keep in touch with her husband. Her children were only six and eight when she passed away, and now they’re college-educated adults. She missed so much of their lives—and they missed so much time with their mom.
She adored those kids. Her degree was in early childhood education, and she poured herself into teaching, painting, and loving them with everything she had. I hope they remember, deep down, how fiercely she loved them.
A few months ago, I attended a funeral for a friend’s father in the same cemetery where Carol is buried. Before leaving, I walked over to her grave and talked to her for a moment. It felt natural, like picking up an old conversation.
But the truth is, I think about her all the time anyway.
All it took today was seeing her last name on a screen, and suddenly she was right here again.
Life is funny like that.
And maybe that’s a gift—the people we love never really leave us. They just wait quietly for a name, a song, a memory… and then they come rushing back.
I love and miss you, “Chubs Dorito”. Until we meet again
From Juju with love 💙
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