Theatre Plus Bones Equals Friendship

An Unforeseen Bond: Connecting Anthropology and Theatre

Dear Danielle,

I was a sophomore, you were a senior in college. You told me you and the history teacher cried during my performance of Hecuba in Women of Troy. I was dumbstruck that you would talk to a classmate two years younger. Somehow we became friends. You talked bones and anthropology while I was obsessed with Stanislavsky and Chekhov.

Discovering My Inner Knowing

You were bright, opinionated, and annoyingly right about most things. You were also eerily psychic and knew ahead of time when a classmate was going to trip on the steps or fall in love and leave school. You kept insisting I also had ESP but I just laughed it off. Until the end of the semester when you left your family crest ring inside one of the exam rooms. Another classmate had kept it for safekeeping and her name was on the chalkboard in the history teacher's office. The janitor refused to open the door when we went to the building. The teacher said she would open her office the next day. You were distraught, pacing the length of your small single at 8 o'clock at night. I picked up the student directory and suggested we call everyone. You nodded as I skimmed through the pages. One name caught my eye. "Call this girl," I said. Five minutes later, we were on our way to her dorm room. She had the ring. I don't claim any special powers but being around you made me find my inner knowing and pick that one name out of the eight hundred girls in that directory.

Honoring a Lifelong Friend and Unwavering Supporter

Your power was shining a light on others. You were always championing me, supporting my theatre dreams and the first guy I dated. You never judged, you just cheered me on. You introduced me to Jean Luc Picard and we watched reruns when I went to visit you in Alexandria after you graduated. You stood with me as a bridesmaid at my wedding and were there to comfort me when it fell apart.

We spoke less as the years went by and somehow you managed to make light of your illness. The last time we talked, we were on FaceTime and I got to see my beautiful friend with the almond shaped eyes again and tell her I loved her. I wish we had lived closer, been neighbors, gossiped about men and politics. I wish we'd had more time. I love you, my friend. I know you're watching over your sister even if she may not believe it. I'll believe it for her.

Love,

Pilar