I grew up with Rachel - her friendship with my mom was so close that she felt more like an aunt than a family friend. Rachel cultivated in me the growth of a writer, of a theater lover, of an activist, of a dreamer, of a fierce friend. She took me to my first Broadway show (I was six, it was Cats, I loved every minute of it, and she never once let on if she thought it was terrible). She introduced me to French onion soup over long dinners at the restaurant across from her tiny NYC apartment. When I was still in middle school, she talked to me about her novels and made me feel like I had something to contribute. When I decided to go to Carleton, she left me a five minute long voicemail telling me how proud she was. From the moment I was brought into this world, Rachel looked me in the eye like I had something important to say. Her love was fierce and full. She will be missed tremendously, but I am so glad that she and I share the Carleton spirit.
What a bummer... I lost touch with Rachel too many years ago. Last visited with her in NYC where she seemed very happy and so creative. Loved my time with her at Carleton! She taught me how to make borscht and shared her incredible courage and passion. She was so smart and well-read.... very sorry to learn that she's gone.
Rachel was a great friend of mine at Carleton. Such a generous personality. I lost touch with her and I'm sorry I did not renew contact before she departed us.
Rachel was one of my dearest, closest friends at Carleton. At just sixteen, she was a freshman and the most brilliant mind I had ever met. A freelance writer, novelist and theater director, she could write a book in a month. We fell out of touch for a few years, and then about thirty years ago we reconnected. We traveled to Barcelona to celebrate her fiftieth birthday and lived it up in new York City at her book party when Farrar, Straus and Giroux published her first novel, Leaps of Faith. She became a professional poker player in her fifties, and I tagged along with her to Atlantic City and Las Vegas. She told me not to worry about getting older. She would come up to Maine, as she did every year at Christmas, and take care of us no matter what. In 2015 she was diagnosed with breast cancer and in June 2017 she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She died two months later and a part of me died with her.
Comments
I grew up with Rachel - her friendship with my mom was so close that she felt more like an aunt than a family friend. Rachel cultivated in me the growth of a writer, of a theater lover, of an activist, of a dreamer, of a fierce friend. She took me to my first Broadway show (I was six, it was Cats, I loved every minute of it, and she never once let on if she thought it was terrible). She introduced me to French onion soup over long dinners at the restaurant across from her tiny NYC apartment. When I was still in middle school, she talked to me about her novels and made me feel like I had something to contribute. When I decided to go to Carleton, she left me a five minute long voicemail telling me how proud she was. From the moment I was brought into this world, Rachel looked me in the eye like I had something important to say. Her love was fierce and full. She will be missed tremendously, but I am so glad that she and I share the Carleton spirit.
What a bummer... I lost touch with Rachel too many years ago. Last visited with her in NYC where she seemed very happy and so creative. Loved my time with her at Carleton! She taught me how to make borscht and shared her incredible courage and passion. She was so smart and well-read.... very sorry to learn that she's gone.
Rachel was a great friend of mine at Carleton. Such a generous personality. I lost touch with her and I'm sorry I did not renew contact before she departed us.
Rachel was one of my dearest, closest friends at Carleton. At just sixteen, she was a freshman and the most brilliant mind I had ever met. A freelance writer, novelist and theater director, she could write a book in a month. We fell out of touch for a few years, and then about thirty years ago we reconnected. We traveled to Barcelona to celebrate her fiftieth birthday and lived it up in new York City at her book party when Farrar, Straus and Giroux published her first novel, Leaps of Faith. She became a professional poker player in her fifties, and I tagged along with her to Atlantic City and Las Vegas. She told me not to worry about getting older. She would come up to Maine, as she did every year at Christmas, and take care of us no matter what. In 2015 she was diagnosed with breast cancer and in June 2017 she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She died two months later and a part of me died with her.