Ine and I met in French class at the University of Washington in the late 1960s. We were close pals for years, until we went different ways geographically for a few decades. Then four or five years ago, our friendship struck up again, Ine in Centralia and I in Poulsbo—in the form of looong phone visits every few months. It felt as if no time had elapsed as we gossiped, laughed, and caught up on our separate life trajectories, their high and low points and everything in between.

 So one day last year, Ine calls me and asks if I’ll be a French/English interpreter for Congolese workers at a window factory in Tacoma, for a  meeting where they’d be informed about their job benefits. Ine couldn’t make it but told the interpreter agency that she had just the right person for the job. Mm-hmmm. I have translated a number of books  but would never have remotely contemplated in-person interpreting—an art at which Ine was of course the GOAT.  Her “Come on, you can do it!”, her casual confidence in me (a confidence not justified, but so warm and welcoming!) put me over the edge and I did it.  

Talking in French about something as crazy as the American healthcare system and choices of retirement plans was no piece of cake. Even if there existed a word in French for “deductible” (which there doesn’t), there’s no concept for it, and believe me, the Congolese folks were smart but confused. Thus each sentence the insurance agent had me translate for the workers took about 10 minutes to explain. There would follow much amazement and laughter, and the 1-hour benefits session turned into 2 1/2. 

  But we got through it, I had a great time, and my report back to Ine was another hour or two filled with much merriment. 

 I loved Ine’s  own anecdotes about interpreting: she was so matter-of-fact about her jaw-dropping skills and experiences in the diplomatic world.

It’s rare that we get to take up again with a dear friend after a lifetime has gone by. I treasure those phone calls with Ine. I treasure her way of turning adversities into golden, profound stories (such as her project with her mother late in life). I treasure how much she valued and honored  friendship.  She had the wisdom to learn not just from wonderful experiences but from mistakes. Her humor, warmth, frankness, and generosity will always stay with me.