#45 and #46, Jacob and Clare.

They were a young brother-and-sister team who lived across the street from our apartment building, next door to Maudelle. I can't remember their parents for the life of me, but the children were hardly ever let outside to play. They were both fair-haired, i think, and Jacob's was supremely curly and fluffy. He never smiled, and neither did Clare (Clara?). I felt bad for them. Their house had a little tiny white picket fence in front of it. The whole family was something of an enigma to the rest of us chickens. The little girl had a huge puffy birthmark on her upper arm that we were never to look at or talk about or point at or ask about. All of this hush-hushing only made the "problem" worse, in my opinion. If i ever run into either of these two again, i am going to make it a point to bring it up. I honestly think we could have all been friends, if not for all of the walking on eggshells.

#43 and #44, Phyllis and Ed.

They lived around the corner from us during the '80s. An older couple, friends of my dad's. I'm not sure how he ever met them, but they were such interesting folks. Ed had a cool replica of the Maltese Falcon. He was soft-spoken and always smelled so sweetly of the cigars he incessantly smoked. Phyllis was a brassy, cackling woman with short silvery-blonde hair and a cigarette always burning away in the ashtray (and sometimes even in her hand!). She made the most killer lentil soup, that to this day i struggle to re-create. They always drank martinis, and i have no idea what happened to them.

#42, Maudelle.

Maudelle was a sweet old lady with an afro that had gone white who lived across the street from us and who was always running for city council (and winning!). The bench in front of her house is one of the most magical places in the world. It sits under a birch tree with its white bark and powerful catkins. Maudelle's house sat in the background of this tableau, and my memory has her on the peeling front porch, holding on to the railing and waving and smiling into the sun. She was like a benevolent presence, always radiating.

#41, Uncle Danny.

Not really an "uncle", but an honorary family member nonetheless. Danny had a walrus mustache, drank beer all day long and farted up a storm. He also snored so loudly that the windowpanes would shake, rattle and roll. He was ever so friendly, though, and always in T-shirt and jeans. He helped my dad build the house up in Montana, and lived with someone named Troy and a cat named Budweiser who earned his name by lapping at the tops of leftover cans on the coffeetable.

#40, Petra.

Petra! You were our babysitter when i was 7 or so. A beautiful young college (UC Berkeley) student who ate baby food straight from the jar; bizarre. Pretty, brown hair and flowy white blouses. You taught us how to make "Hot Buttered Cheerios", which is still one of the most delicious snacks i have ever had. We would all pick blackberries from the wild brambles beyond our back deck, and you would help us bake them into tiny, bursting tartlets. You were summer, and bright happy sun, and trips to the park with freshly cut green grass, snacks and bicycle rides and lots of smiles. Thank you.

#39, Peter A.

You were my best friend's music teacher. You wore baggy pants with tribal prints on them. Often we would arrive at your house and there would be people in your backyard, playing bongo drums and smoking weed, always courteous. i think you were teaching her to play the flute. I had a tentative crush on you, mostly because your world was so different from mine. Later you were heading a fairly famous jazz ensemble in the Bay Area, and i was so impressed. Are you still the same? Sometimes i think i am.

#38, Angela Solarz

Angela, you were my troubled friend when i was ten or so... we both had a hard time, it seemed. You had a clear, open face, glasses, and a long, straight, light-brown ponytail. You lived with your mom in a tiny dark house next to the grocery store in our neighborhood. I was always scared in there. What did we do together? I can hardly remember. You moved away, and there was a sleep-over party for your birthday there, at the new place. My mom drove me, and it was like night and day. Big, bright windows, white paint on the walls, brand-new apartment fixtures, new and shiny friends. I didn't see you after that. Where are you now?

#37, Skylar.

Where do i begin?
I met you at a party. You were older than me by 5 or 6 years. Blue eyes, impish smile, great taste in music. We talked all night and you walked me home. We said goodbye on a street corner (did we kiss?) and exchanged phone numbers. For whatever reason it didn't work out, maybe it was the age difference. You slept on a mattress on the floor in the front of an indie record shop that your best friend's dad owned, it was bizarre. I fell asleep on the bed while watching Gummo with you and drinking vodka. Then some cooler girls we both knew came over and wanted you to go to the cemetery with them. You went. I was too tired, and fell asleep. When i woke up at 6 in the morning, you were there beside me, hair incredibly soft. I stole away in the thin blue light, and sat on the stairs of a nearby subway station to write you a letter which i never gave to you. I saw you a few times after that, and always wondered.

#36, Jeremy S.

We always referred to you by your first and last name. You were tall and lanky, with curly hair on top of your head, sides shaved. You were extremely nervous, and always bit the skin on your knuckles, as well as your fingernails. You were always making jokes that no one laughed at, even though they might have been funny. You called me "Frau M____", which annoyed the tar out of me because i don't have a smidge of German in my ancestry, not to mention that it should have been "Fraulein". In retrospect, Jeremy, i wasn't nice enough to you. You only wanted attention, and friends. For that i am truly sorry. I wish i could run into you again sometime.

#34 and #35, Scott and Jess.

I have to put these two in here together, because i knew them both much better as a couple than i did either of them separately.
They had decided to pack some things into your station wagon and leave Illinois for sunny California one day. They both applied at the art store where i worked, and were both hired- Jess in Fine Arts and Scott in the Paper Dept. Jess, 17, was small, with crooked teeth, short hair, and a serious drawl. Super adorable, you might say. She moved around everywhere sort of slowly and smiled a lot, unabashedly. Scott was much older, in his early thirties, and even though he was balding and shaved his head we were all so shocked to hear his age. He just seemed so... young! He also smiled a lot, but in a much more nervous way. He collected robot toys, and enjoyed talking to me about '80s music and old Dr. Who episodes. They both loved Belle and Sebastian, and tried non-stop to coax me over to that side of things. But i was always yawning when i heard the music, so it never worked out. They made Nat and i a mix before they left town, which is still one of my all-time favorites. Selected tracks include "Weird Day" by Sifl and Olly, "Superstar" (a Carpenters cover) by Sonic Youth, and "19-2000" by the Gorillaz. It was called Scott and Jess's Summer Mix '01. God, just saying that makes me want to cry. Those were good times.

#33, Danny G.

Danny. You made amazing woodblock art! I was so envious of your skills. Last time i saw you, it was New Year's Eve, and my mom took a bunch of people (you, me, nat, my sis, my bro) out to dinner (Indian food) and then to a movie (Lord of the Rings). Afterwards we dropped Nat off at work, and my brother and my mom went home. The 3 of us remaining went to a warehouse party to ring in the new year. Shortly before midnight, you confessed to me that you were "in love" with my sister (whoa!), and ran off to find her so that you could kiss her when twelve o'clock arrived. i didn't know what to do, but i was sure that you would get your heart broken (Danny, you were way too "safe" for her). i rushed around trying to find her before you did, and spied her drunkenly making out with an old friend of hers (big mistake), lying on the sidewalk behind someone's truck. Later you moved to SoCal somewhere, and i heard you were having art shows. Good luck with everything! i hope we meet again someday.

#32, Janice.

When i first met Janice, i was struck by one thing: her eyebrows. Well, that and her salacious metal-band tank tops and painted-on jeans. She was quite a sexy thing, very bold and outspoken, face almost always scowling for no reason. She lived in a rock 'n roll pad with Jackie, and one day they introduced me to the woman behind Janice's inspiration for her eyebrows: Nina Hagen. Ah, a whole new world! Janice once told me about reverse-rollerskating to Billy Squier's "Stroke" at a roller rink when she was younger, a story that remains fresh in my mind today. She was always having problems with her contact lenses, and did way too many stimulants. She constantly drooled over long-haired Hessian metal boys. Last i heard, Janice was finally married to one of those boys, with a child, and one more on the way! Hope you're happy, Janice, wherever you are.

#31, Jackie.

Jax! You were a rocker chick that came to work at Amsterdam Art. Long, wavy hair and Betty Page bangs, you were perpetually stoned and loved PJ Harvey possibly more than i did. i adored you! Your house (which you shared with best friend Janice) was a treasure trove of album covers, candles, fairy lights, death metal objects, and other pretty things. It was always so comfortable there. You would ply me with whiskey and beer. You wore flannels a lot, over thermal shirts, and had a very quiet, almost mumbling way of speaking that was quite endearing. Then you went to Scotland for a year. We picked you up at the airport in Matthew's van, and you solemnly pressed a tape of QueenAdreena into my hand, telling me that i "must listen". Thank you, dearly, for that.

#30, Matthew.

We fondly called you the "Gay White Aborigine". You had amazing earlobe stretchers, lots of beautiful tribal tattoos and facial hair worthy of a mountain man. You were skinny, and wore jeans, boots, and old Neurosis shirts with the sleeves cut off. And sometimes vests. You were vegan, but admitted to munching on pork rinds when your mom would send them to you from home in Louisiana. You openly stated that you couldn't stand glitter, but always made the exception for me, even letting me into your van (which usually contained: Neurosis in the tape deck, hand-beaded bone and feather necklaces hanging from the rearview mirror, and the strong smell of sage and patchouli) to drive me home on numerous occasions. Once, we ate a mango together outside the building, cut with your pocket knife. A highly-treasured item with super-secret status that floated around the art store was a picture of you, at seventeen or so, with long hair and no facial hair, grinning broadly into the sun ("No way, that's not Matthew!"). You were always drinking whiskey and inviting us to bonfires out on the beach in San Francisco. Last i heard you moved back to Louisiana. Hope you weathered the hurricane(s) alright. Miss you, Matthew.

#29, Jonas.

Jonas, you sat at the register across the aisle from me, and would sit and stare all day long. I wasn't sure if it was me, or just that you actually had a staring problem, but eventually you asked me out on a date. No one had ever really done that before, and i was very nervous. I wasn't even sure if i liked you but i was too nice to say no, and you were such a sweetheart... we went to see Princess Mononoke at the UC Theater (back when it was still there), and barely talked the whole time. We took the bus home in the rain, and when my stop came you stood up and we had a very awkward goodbye, trying not to fall over and trying to decide if we should kiss or not, juggling umbrellas and left-over popcorn. Ha, ha. :) We didn't go out again after that, and you moved away shortly thereafter, to go to art school. You always wore Mouse On Mars T-shirts, and later told me that i was the spitting image of your ex-girlfriend, who was also named Heather. Weird!

#28, Mike Neal.

Mike Neal! Nobody could call you by just your first name. You worked in Fine Arts, and were probably one of the best artists we ever had working there. Cowboy boots and a far-fetched anecdote were your two main characteristics. We found out later you had epilepsy, because you had a seizure at work one day. I always enjoyed your (Texas?) drawl, and your surreal wood-panel paintings. Always a pleasure to see you at parties, my friend. Hope there will be a next time.

#27, Disco Dave.

Dave, you worked in the outlet warehouse when i first started working at Amsterdam. I had a major crush on you, but you never even looked at me once; always seemed to have your head in a book, or comic. You were a photographer, which i admired, and when i complimented a photo hanging on the wall behind your head you actually gave it to me! Would you believe that i still have that photo? It is darkly exposed, with a lilypad and dewdrops. Just lovely. Once, you were playing a CD that i thought might have been Concrete Blonde. It turned out to be "Cross Bones Style" by Cat Power, off of their album Moon Pix. Without looking up from your book, you told me to go ahead and take it, as you had found it lying face-down on the floor under a shelf in the warehouse a few days before. Take it i did, and a new love was born.

#26, Bryan.

Bryan worked in the framing dept. at Amsterdam Art. He was very large, wore tie-dye shirts and loose pants, and always had a painted-on orange dot between his eyes. It was his third eye. He smelled like patchouli and kept a picture of the Hug Lady on his register when he was still a cashier. Bryan was an extremely soothing presence, wherever he was. When my cat had kittens, we ended up giving him the middle kitten, a girl, who had long grey hair. She was my favorite and i was sad to see her go, but giving it to Bryan was the best option i could have wanted. He named her "Durga", after the Hindu goddess. Bryan, i miss your bear hugs!