Coach

By Lorraine Kennedy
A familiar feeling comes over me as I struggle to find the words to describe how much Casey meant to me. For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been regularly checking this web site, eager to read the latest additions to this collage of memories dedicated to our dear friend. The stories have spurred me to dig out my old photos and read through the numerous letters that I received from my Collegian buddies after we all moved our separate ways after graduation. With that, the memories have come flooding back.

Now -- as I watch the clock tick past 1 a.m. and finally conquer that first paragraph – I happily remember the many late nights and long days I spent in the Campus Center basement. Here are few misty-eyed memories…

As a fledgling reporter terrified of making my first cold call to a source for a news story, Casey catches me in the act of writing down each question and attempting to rehearse exactly what I want to say. She nudges me to quit procrastinating, get on the phone and get it done. (I never lived that one down.) “Coach,” as we fondly called her as Editor in Chief, was always an inspiration to me as a journalist because of her confidence and her unyielding passion for a field that wasn’t always kind.

It’s early October 1998. Laura Forster hosts a Superhero party at her apartment in honor of all the Collegian people with birthdays in October. This is the first time all of us who have been working together since the beginning of the school year decide to party together. Casey (dressed as Jem, as I recall) somehow finds her way into the bathtub but soon discovers that she’s unable to exit though the bathroom wall and has to call for help. It’s a pivotal night for the group. Despite our diverse backgrounds, we are bonded by our love for journalism and booze. Thereafter, we are inseparable.

It’s February 2002 and a 7-page letter from Casey arrives at my then-address in Ireland. She tells me about a weekend she spent with Laura and Julie Fialkow in Atlanta and assures me that I was missed. She lovingly describes her boyfriend, Will. She tells me how happy she and her brothers were to give her parents a trip to the Tour de France, especially considering all they had done for her. She glosses over references to her illness and talks excitedly about her plans for a trip to Ireland once she recovers from her stem-cell transplant. The tone is sunny, hopeful.

I’ll cherish that letter and all the other happy notes she wrote to me over the years. And I know I’ll always think of her when I see a package of Twizzlers or hear mention of Lou Merloni. Casey will always hold a special place in my heart.

Lorraine worked with Casey at the Collegian.