Farewell to a Friend
I'm going to break a lot of literary rules and give you the backstory first. You'll see why.
July, 1993. Marty and I had just moved to Cincinnati, OH and the first item on our agenda was getting our kids registered for school, which was due to start in a week or two. We were filling out paperwork at Summerside Elementary while the principal, Pat Stockman, and the school secretary, Pauline Sachs, looked up what teachers Jessica and Jonathan would have. The only other people in the office were a woman and her little girl, who looked about three. She told us her name was Elisabeth, and she seemed right at home.
The girl's mom said, "Oh, you're new here? You're going to love it! You should join the PTO - it's a great way to meet people. Jessica, come with me. Your teacher, Tabetha Adams, is here right now, decorating her classroom. I'll introduce you."
So began a 25 year friendship with Kip Iannelli. In those days, Jessica was an extrovert, but meeting her teacher before school started made her first day a lot easier. I followed Kip's suggestion and started attending PTO meetings, where I met more friends than I can count. I also discovered an avocation for volunteer work, which became a large part of my life for the 19 years we were in Cincinnati.
Kip and I served on the PTO board together at Summerside and later at Glen Este Middle and High Schools. She had a daughter two years younger than my son and a son a year older than my daughter. Kip and her husband, Joe, had lived in Cincinnati for years, fixing up their house and yard until they'd transformed them both. I was fascinated by her koi pond, something I couldn't attempt. The cats and raccoons would eat them, for sure. Kip's house became kind of a hangout - the place for Longaberger basket parties, Pampered Chef parties, candle parties and more. Our husbands met at the summer parties they hosted, and formed friendships reinforced at the annual Superbowl parties our mutual friends Alice and Gary Miller held. The men would gather around the game on TV and the women would hover around the pot luck spread, sharing recipes and news of our growing kids.
Over the years, Kip and Alice and I and many other good friends worked on pretty much every event PTO sponsored, and we sponsored a lot of them. We rallied to get a bond issue passed, met with teachers to find out what classroom needs PTO could fill for them, and became pros at setting up school carnivals, silent auctions and Santa Shops. Kip knew what DJs to contact when we arranged a school dance, and what pizza places would welcome a limo full of young kids who'd earned a lunch and limo ride as a prize. When we created a cookbook with recipes from Summerside teachers and parents, Kip - who was a legendary cook - submitted a number of her favorite recipes, including the recipes for "PTO BBQ" and "PTO Punch."
Kip's son was several years older than mine, but they both played football. Once a football mom, always a football mom, so when I was learning the ropes it was Kip who taught me about working the concession stands at games and arranging meals for the teams and coaches.
All this only touches the surface of who Kip was. She wasn't universally loved, because she didn't suffer fools gladly and she could be brilliantly sarcastic. ("Bite me," was a trademark remark of hers.) Those of us who did love her got a kick out of her jibes. I know that's one of the things my husband liked best about her.
She led an exciting life during those years, traveling to Europe for the first time (we all pored over her photo album from that trip), going to New York and attending the Rosie O'Donnell show. She got an appliqued denim jacket from that show - I thought it was the coolest thing ever. She attended a big awards show - People's Choice, I think? - where she mingled with all kinds of celebrities. She even went to the Kentucky Derby and was seated near England's Queen Elizabeth II. Not one to be overly impressed by bigwigs, she made a point of carefully picking an outfit that would be appropriate without "kissing ass." I remember she was particularly pleased with the hat. Kip found a basic hat form and decorated it herself. I think she said it cost about ten dollars altogether.
I could go on and on. Our kids have been out of school and even college for many years now. Elisabeth is married. I'm a grandmother of two. Alice is a grandmother of four. Joe and my husband Marty are retired. I haven't lived in Cincinnati for seven years. When we moved, I thought I'd be back for visits all the time, but I've only made it back twice. I squeezed in a brief visit with Alice last time I went back, but I haven't seen Kip since Alice and Gary's Superbowl party in 2012. We all exchange Christmas cards and Alice and I visit on Facebook sometimes. When cards and Christmas letters began to pile up when we were in Chicago and my grandkids were little, I'd save them all and read them little by little after the holidays. I was stunned to come across a short note from Kip saying she'd had a form of cancer but was in remission. I sent her a response (at least, I'm pretty sure I did - I HOPE I did), so thankful she'd beat that bastard cancer.
This year, we moved again. My son, graduate school completed, is now a professor of Economics, and when he got a job in the Pacific Northwest, the rest of the family (Mom, Dad, sister) joined him. We all share a house in Southern Oregon, which is wonderful, but it's hard to stay in touch with old friends who aren't on social media. I'm not the best correspondent these days.
In November, I was skimming around on Facebook when a message from Alice popped up. "Call me," was all it said, followed by her number. I called as soon as I saw it. "It's bad," she said, and I could hear her tears. "Kip's cancer came back, and it's everywhere. They're putting her in hospice." Hospice? I'm all too familiar with that term, after losing my mom and my aunt in recent years. Lost an uncle and my dad, too, but I didn't think "hospice" when I thought about their deaths.
I wasn't sure if Kip would be up for visitors - the illness and treatment for it left her short of breath, and talking was difficult for her. My husband had a meeting in Portland scheduled, and I debated flying out from there. But he came down with the flu and the trip had to be postponed. I was hoping Kip might rebound and go into remission, like she'd done before.
She didn't.
I had a message from Alice on Thanksgiving that I didn't see until the following day. Kip died on Thanksgiving morning, leaving a heartbroken family and friends who will never forget her. Kip was six years younger than I am, and losing her makes me feel about 100 years old. I want to dig out my Summerside cookbooks and make some of Kip's recipes. I've been digging for old photographs, too. Neither Kip nor I enjoyed getting our picture taken, but I found a few. One of them includes the amazing Eileen Murphy, the "new" school principal we all loved. After a series of tragedies, we lost Eileen, too. It happened years ago, but her loss still hurts.
As I said in the beginning, I'm breaking all kinds of literary rules with this post, and I apologize for it. I wanted to commemorate the life of a friend, and my memories flowed chronologically. Kip - I'm picturing you at the gates of Heaven, making St. Peter blush. I wish you could have stuck around longer. A lot longer.
I'm not good at endings, so I'll just say what's in my heart: I treasure your friendship, and I miss you.
July, 1993. Marty and I had just moved to Cincinnati, OH and the first item on our agenda was getting our kids registered for school, which was due to start in a week or two. We were filling out paperwork at Summerside Elementary while the principal, Pat Stockman, and the school secretary, Pauline Sachs, looked up what teachers Jessica and Jonathan would have. The only other people in the office were a woman and her little girl, who looked about three. She told us her name was Elisabeth, and she seemed right at home.
The girl's mom said, "Oh, you're new here? You're going to love it! You should join the PTO - it's a great way to meet people. Jessica, come with me. Your teacher, Tabetha Adams, is here right now, decorating her classroom. I'll introduce you."
 |
| Kip (left) and me |
So began a 25 year friendship with Kip Iannelli. In those days, Jessica was an extrovert, but meeting her teacher before school started made her first day a lot easier. I followed Kip's suggestion and started attending PTO meetings, where I met more friends than I can count. I also discovered an avocation for volunteer work, which became a large part of my life for the 19 years we were in Cincinnati.
Kip and I served on the PTO board together at Summerside and later at Glen Este Middle and High Schools. She had a daughter two years younger than my son and a son a year older than my daughter. Kip and her husband, Joe, had lived in Cincinnati for years, fixing up their house and yard until they'd transformed them both. I was fascinated by her koi pond, something I couldn't attempt. The cats and raccoons would eat them, for sure. Kip's house became kind of a hangout - the place for Longaberger basket parties, Pampered Chef parties, candle parties and more. Our husbands met at the summer parties they hosted, and formed friendships reinforced at the annual Superbowl parties our mutual friends Alice and Gary Miller held. The men would gather around the game on TV and the women would hover around the pot luck spread, sharing recipes and news of our growing kids.
Over the years, Kip and Alice and I and many other good friends worked on pretty much every event PTO sponsored, and we sponsored a lot of them. We rallied to get a bond issue passed, met with teachers to find out what classroom needs PTO could fill for them, and became pros at setting up school carnivals, silent auctions and Santa Shops. Kip knew what DJs to contact when we arranged a school dance, and what pizza places would welcome a limo full of young kids who'd earned a lunch and limo ride as a prize. When we created a cookbook with recipes from Summerside teachers and parents, Kip - who was a legendary cook - submitted a number of her favorite recipes, including the recipes for "PTO BBQ" and "PTO Punch."
Kip's son was several years older than mine, but they both played football. Once a football mom, always a football mom, so when I was learning the ropes it was Kip who taught me about working the concession stands at games and arranging meals for the teams and coaches.
 |
| Kip (on the floor), another PTO volunteer and me (right) setting up raffle baskets for the school carnival. |
All this only touches the surface of who Kip was. She wasn't universally loved, because she didn't suffer fools gladly and she could be brilliantly sarcastic. ("Bite me," was a trademark remark of hers.) Those of us who did love her got a kick out of her jibes. I know that's one of the things my husband liked best about her.
She led an exciting life during those years, traveling to Europe for the first time (we all pored over her photo album from that trip), going to New York and attending the Rosie O'Donnell show. She got an appliqued denim jacket from that show - I thought it was the coolest thing ever. She attended a big awards show - People's Choice, I think? - where she mingled with all kinds of celebrities. She even went to the Kentucky Derby and was seated near England's Queen Elizabeth II. Not one to be overly impressed by bigwigs, she made a point of carefully picking an outfit that would be appropriate without "kissing ass." I remember she was particularly pleased with the hat. Kip found a basic hat form and decorated it herself. I think she said it cost about ten dollars altogether.
I could go on and on. Our kids have been out of school and even college for many years now. Elisabeth is married. I'm a grandmother of two. Alice is a grandmother of four. Joe and my husband Marty are retired. I haven't lived in Cincinnati for seven years. When we moved, I thought I'd be back for visits all the time, but I've only made it back twice. I squeezed in a brief visit with Alice last time I went back, but I haven't seen Kip since Alice and Gary's Superbowl party in 2012. We all exchange Christmas cards and Alice and I visit on Facebook sometimes. When cards and Christmas letters began to pile up when we were in Chicago and my grandkids were little, I'd save them all and read them little by little after the holidays. I was stunned to come across a short note from Kip saying she'd had a form of cancer but was in remission. I sent her a response (at least, I'm pretty sure I did - I HOPE I did), so thankful she'd beat that bastard cancer.
This year, we moved again. My son, graduate school completed, is now a professor of Economics, and when he got a job in the Pacific Northwest, the rest of the family (Mom, Dad, sister) joined him. We all share a house in Southern Oregon, which is wonderful, but it's hard to stay in touch with old friends who aren't on social media. I'm not the best correspondent these days.
In November, I was skimming around on Facebook when a message from Alice popped up. "Call me," was all it said, followed by her number. I called as soon as I saw it. "It's bad," she said, and I could hear her tears. "Kip's cancer came back, and it's everywhere. They're putting her in hospice." Hospice? I'm all too familiar with that term, after losing my mom and my aunt in recent years. Lost an uncle and my dad, too, but I didn't think "hospice" when I thought about their deaths.
I wasn't sure if Kip would be up for visitors - the illness and treatment for it left her short of breath, and talking was difficult for her. My husband had a meeting in Portland scheduled, and I debated flying out from there. But he came down with the flu and the trip had to be postponed. I was hoping Kip might rebound and go into remission, like she'd done before.
She didn't.
I had a message from Alice on Thanksgiving that I didn't see until the following day. Kip died on Thanksgiving morning, leaving a heartbroken family and friends who will never forget her. Kip was six years younger than I am, and losing her makes me feel about 100 years old. I want to dig out my Summerside cookbooks and make some of Kip's recipes. I've been digging for old photographs, too. Neither Kip nor I enjoyed getting our picture taken, but I found a few. One of them includes the amazing Eileen Murphy, the "new" school principal we all loved. After a series of tragedies, we lost Eileen, too. It happened years ago, but her loss still hurts.
 |
| Kip (right) and I presenting Principal Eileen Murphy (left) with a gift from Summerside PTO. |
As I said in the beginning, I'm breaking all kinds of literary rules with this post, and I apologize for it. I wanted to commemorate the life of a friend, and my memories flowed chronologically. Kip - I'm picturing you at the gates of Heaven, making St. Peter blush. I wish you could have stuck around longer. A lot longer.
I'm not good at endings, so I'll just say what's in my heart: I treasure your friendship, and I miss you.
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