A visit with Genie

Genie and I met when my parents moved from St. Louis to Chicago; our parents were good friends.  We were nine years old.  Genie loved to recount the story of me in my blue hat and when I left after our first playdate, I threw my arms around her in a surprise bear hug.

That would be an apt visualization of our 60+ years of friendship.  We loved each other, all through school, seven summers of our beloved camp in the northwoods, and through the joys, trials, and tribulations of adulthood.

When we were kids, parents didn't major in their children's daily lives the way they do now.  We were on our own a lot.  And boy, did we love our time together.  Games, humor, projects - and mischief.  Phony phone calls:  we rocked.  Short-sheeting her parents' bed:  you bet.  Torturing our little sisters:  of course!  So many sleepovers, so much fun.  The night of Chicago's biggest winter storm ever, 1967, Genie had a sleepover with a bunch of us.  That was an unforgettable night - and walk home!

Genie was at the center of my inspirational peer group, what I consider to be the lifesaving facet of my life.  Genie's calm, composure, confidence, good-nature, intelligence and wit were magnetic.   She was crazy talented.  I used to sit by her when she practiced piano; to this day I hear Rachmaninoff's Prelude in C-sharp minor, Op. 3 No. 2 in memory of those times.  She was good at tennis, sailing, drama, singing.  She had the leads in our camp productions; our senior year, she directed our all important variety show.  I was always so proud of her - like I had anything to do with her talents!

We completely treasured our time at camp.  And she had to have been the only camper in the Boundary Waters who wanted nothing to do with lakes or woods.  Everyone loved her.  When I was with her, shortly before she died, I brought our camp songbook.  Tom marveled that it was 85 pages long....her memory for the tunes and lyrics was just unbelievable.  We sang -and we laughed - and we sang some more.

Our friendship was truly a kinship.  We knew each other's total history - and our adult trials and tribulations.  Watching her manage M.S. was heartbreaking - and again, inspiring.  Seeing her and Tom together: a total joy.

To know her was to love her.  I always wondered how I got so lucky as to have her as my dear friend.   So grateful for Tom's loving partnership and care; grateful she died peacefully.  May her memory be a blessing.

Meeting Lisa — with Genie

Santa, Les & Dee; I'll post more pix as I can.

When we were little kids, we played with our mother's mahjong sets, made up games and rules, and then we would fight over who won. My memory of her will always be as a stunning and beautiful person. 

My connection to my dear friend Genie was always both personal and musical. They are so intertwined that,  just after Tom told me of her passing, church bells tolled in the small Mexican town where I happened to be. Okay, it was right on the hour… but still!!

Genie and I met in a high school chorus, and we became friends through the various theatrical experiences we shared during those years. Genie’s warmth, empathy, wit and insight enlivened and fortified me, forging a bond that lasted a lifetime.

The musical bond endured as well. Genie was more than a collaborative pianist. She transformed the experience of singing and playing together into something simply magical. We listened to each other intently. We played off each other musically as we would in a conversation, turning the notes on a page into intimate moments of clarity and care.

Growing up together was an endless series of such moments. I wish I could recall every second of the countless hours we spent together with dear friends in the living room of her lovely home. It seemed designed for cast parties and songs around the piano as much as for those long nights of earnest discussion, punctuated with wit so sharp that even Genie would admonish one of us with exaggerated horror, “I can’t believe you said that!” In a turbulent world of anti-war protests, civil rights struggles, and the challenging of so many cultural norms, this sturdy vessel of camaraderie carried us from adolescence to adulthood on waves of uproarious laughter, our sails filled with the constant winds of our union.

Genie and I lost touch for many years, but those winds prevailed. Thanks to our dear mutual friend, Steve Eiseman, Genie re-opened the door to friendship, which my husband Mitchell and I entered without a moment of hesitation. Visiting her and Tom for that first time in Ventura several years ago invoked all that was familiar, only now as fully formed adults. We still opined on political upheavals and shared the pivotal moments of our lives, but with perspectives informed by decades of experience. Once again, we listened intently and reveled in knowing each other at a depth that can only be obtained by having shared that original journey.

That memorable day, Genie and I reunited musically as well. She played and I sang for the first time in decades. It was as magical as ever. Afterwards, I recalled that, when we were young, my bond with Genie scared me at times, as did any strong bond of friendship. As a gay kid, I was chronically conflicted by both wanting such closeness and fearing that I would lose it were my friends to discover my secret. Of course, I’ve been essentially free of that fear for decades, but that day in Ventura repaired that experience with Genie, and it made me whole.

As you might expect, the pain of MS had made playing piano difficult for our dear friend, but with Mitchell, Tom and Steve as audience, I sang as she played without pain for two glorious hours. I kept offering to stop, but Genie insisted we do more. We were all moved, and I remain forever grateful for that time, as I am for this soulful friendship that lasted a lifetime.

I wrote to Genie before she passed, “I hold you in my heart where my sweetest and most precious memories of our friendship reside, and I carry you in my soul, where there has always been music.”

There is nothing more to say except to thank Tom for loving Genie so selflessly and for becoming our friend.

With love to all who mourn this loss --

Bruce Koff and Mitchell Channon

Genie (second from left top row) and Betsy (second from left bottom row), Highland Park High School choir, 1970.

Genie with Bruce and Harvey, Highland Park High School drama club, 1970.

Genie with Bruce and Betsy, Ventura CA in 2023.

Genie and I had great times together in high school but more wondrous was our reconnecting 50 years later when we discovered we lived 20 minutes from each other in Southern California. From then on I visited Genie often, especially after she and Tom moved to my neighborhood. These visits with Genie were a delight. We reminisced and laughed. We talked about music, dance, theater and books. Genie provided me with some gentle life coaching. And, most precious of all, Genie played the piano while I sang. Genie, I miss you so but I will always treasure the unexpected gift of our renewed friendship. Tom, thank you for the steadfast love and care you gave to Genie. And please, dear neighbor, stop by often to see Eric and me.