Marianne "Sveetie" Ware, my friend

Because I'm such a lousy blogger, my posting from June 22 got buried in the comments of this blog. Here it is again:

Marianne was my dear friend for 34 years. There are so many stories to tell, so many memories. Where do I begin? A blog is not enough space!

Our friendship was a rare thing. Marianne was a friend, a sister, and a mentor. While I often felt that I was the Sancho Panza to her Don Quixote during our time with the Russian River Writers' Guild, she insisted that I always see myself as a writer before anything else. In addition to her writing, I was in awe of her political activism and her social conscience. A "red diaper baby," Marianne never forgot the downtrodden or disenfranchised. In her eyes, every person had worth, something to say, something to contribute.

And there were funny times, too. She liked to call me her "lesbian lover," despite the fact that neither of us was a lesbian. But I understood her quirky humor: we were soul mates. We'd often have lunch at the Northwood Lodge, just outside of Guerneville, which she referred to it as "our place." She would sneak a hamburger and beg me not to tell Dave. She never fully latched on to the tenets of vegetarianism

So, how do you blog about such deep friendship and love? It's impossible. The Internet could never contain all that was Marianne Ware. All I can say is, how extraordinary my life has been for having Marianne in it "for the duration" (her words). Adiós, mi amor. Te quiero.