Brilliant … But Bouncy

“They Call This Stoopin’.”

Paul introduced me to Louise, who immediately became my favorite person on the planet. Louise was the life of the party wherever she went, using brilliantly sarcastic wit to leave friends, colleagues and even strangers in hysterics.

When I met her, Louise was telling stories, drinking iced tea, and laughing like I hadn’t laughed in years. I admired her right away, and I envied the ability of the people around her to laugh.

Sober laughter took me a long time to learn, but that changed as I got to know Louise.

Louise lived in Oakmont, a Pittsburgh suburb further north than I’d lived before. Oakmont was a darling little community with local stores and restaurants that stayed afloat whether the steel mills closed or not. It was so adorable, it was practically fictional.

When I was younger, my parents used to drive through the brick streets of Oakmont, me admiring the little stores and movie theater as we rumbled past over bricks. I’d think: This is what a town should be. And then we’d be past it, and I’d forget about it until our next trip through.

Louise lived in a duplex – and the other half of her house was vacant. After being attacked, I rented it quickly, in spite of my fear of living next to a female (who might not like me!) Then I spent years at that residence enjoying the company of my next door neighbor and, eventually, my dearest friend.

On most nights, Louise and I would sit outside and smoke cigarettes. We both had cats, and we’d watch them chase critters (and once, birds chasing my cat) along the street. Louise would tell me stories from her shift working as a prison guard, and I’d share my museum day. We’d be visited from passers by, delivery drivers, kids down the block.

“Where I’m from,” Louise said as we whiled away the hours on our shared porch, “they call this stoopin’.”

I don’t know what we talked about, night after night, hour after hour, but I became closer to Louise than any other person in my life. Louise was a better friend to me than any I’d ever had. She not only shared her time with me and allowed me to simply sit and enjoy her company, but she helped me learn how to live life on life’s terms.

For example, when I tried to make a joke and nobody understood it, Louise told me, “It’s not always your fault when people are rude. Sometimes people are just rude.” I’d been blaming myself for other people’s cruelties for my entire life; I’d always blamed myself.

Louise also taught me how to take care of my house. For example: “Baskets,” she said one night. “Ya gotta have baskets.” Then she took me into her house and showed me all the baskets she used to stay organized in her own home, in a stylish, trendy way. I’ve been using organizational baskets for 30 years.

Louise was a single mom to a gorgeous, blossoming teenager, and Louise always put her daughter’s needs above her own – and everyone else’s. Louise showed me how strength guides parenting.

Louise was a fiercely loyal friend, and taught me to be one, too. Louise became my role model for how to live life. She stood up for herself (“Nobody else’ll do it for you!”) and laughed at life from every angle. She was her own person; nobody else was like Louise. She taught me that I could be myself, too.

And somehow Louise loved me enough that I started learning how to love myself.