My brilliant friend
When I was in graduate school for my PhD, I met a lot of really wonderful people in my classes. (I met a lot of jerkstores, too, but most of them were faculty.) First there were Molly and Layne and Crystal, then Jessica and Jillian and Stephanie and Rachel and Connie. They weren’t the only people I met during my seven years in the UT English department, but they are the ones I still consider friends and compatriots. Most of them don’t live in Austin, so when I’m in their respective areas, I try to connect with them for coffee or dinner or whatever.
When I was in Tyler with the family for Thanksgiving, I reached out to Stephanie to see whether we could squeeze in a visit. She has been an assistant professor at UT-Tyler for a few years, and when I was there in January, we were able to get together for burgers at Jucy’s, which is greasy fast food in all the most delicious ways. If you dine in at Jucy’s, you have access to a vat of free pinto beans, which go very nicely with a heaping mound of onion rings.
I’m not sure when Stephanie and I met — we were on different paths, subject-wise, as scholars (I was/am an Americanist/pop culture/food studies person; she leaned more rhetoric and composition studies) — but we were often in each other’s orbit. I didn’t go to many parties, as I had two small children, but I saw her out and about; at Feminist Solidarity Group gatherings; and at the Writing Center, where we both worked as consultants. I have a vivid memory of hanging out at Yard Dog with her during SXSW, drinking tepid beer out of plastic cups while jockeying for a sliver of shade while the Old 97s (or someone — that part’s blurry) performed under a tent in a too-small back alley.
In 2011, Stephanie was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was just a teeny little ductal carcinoma in situ, caught very early. She had it removed, got a prophylactic double mastectomy, and underwent chemotherapy. It wasn’t long before she was declared cancer free. The following year, UT offered free mammograms to everyone on its health insurance plan. Knowing that I’d lost my mom to breast cancer, she reached out to me and offered to come with me to get a mammogram; she’d watch the toddler while I had the procedure. I was struck then by her thoughtfulness and care. She didn’t need to do that, but that was her.
A few years later, not long after she’d moved to Tyler to start the job she was so excited about, she went roller skating and fell, injuring her hip. When the pain hadn’t gone away after a few weeks, she went to the doctor, where she learned that her cancer was back. Metastasized to her bones. It would eventually spread to her liver and her dura.
Two years ago, our mutual friend and dissertation advisor, Trish, hosted a birthday party for Stephanie at her house here in Austin. Stephanie requested that I make my disco rice krispie treats, a heady combination of butter, marshmallows, rice krispies, brightly colored m&ms, sprinkles, and a LOT of edible glitter. I was more than happy to oblige. (Note: I’m wearing those very same earrings as I write this.)
Stephanie wasn’t able to get together when I was in Tyler for Thanksgiving. On December 1, her husband, Gary, shared that she’d entered into home hospice care. Yesterday, I spent more time than was appropriate scrolling through her old photos on Facebook. There were pictures of food, of parties, of her garden, of her travels around the country with friends (so many familiar faces from grad school in there!), family, and Gary. There were photos of her gorgeous dog, Ruby, and of her various volunteer activities for Beto O’Rourke’s campaign. I read the hundreds of comments on the post announcing that Stephanie had transitioned to hospice care. The common theme was her humor, her friendship, her love of karaoke, her passion for teaching, how she inspired her students and colleagues alike.
This morning, we got word that Stephanie has passed, and the world is so much poorer for her absence. I miss her so much, already.