I met Debra in the early 1990s when Patrick was in law school at Columbia. To help make ends meet, I was working as a secretary at a large investment bank. I was delighted to have landed the job; at the time, investment banks paid their administrative staff about double the going rate. In addition, if you worked past 7:00 p.m., you a) scored hefty overtime pay; b) had your dinner paid for; and c) got a free car service home. As a result, I worked past 7 most nights, and might have done so for the magical evening rides through Central Park alone.
As cushy as the situation was, and as much as I adored my boss, there were some negatives to the job. The corporate culture was somewhat of a caste system. There was upper management; the sales force; the analysts; their assistants; the legal and editorial staff; and the admins, also known as the untouchables. Upon reflection, I realize that we admins were not low girls on the totem pole; the cafeteria and custodial staff probably earn that dubious bragging right. But we had little interaction with them.
I felt lucky; my boss was brilliant, kind, sane, rightly considered the best in his field, and interested in my perspective on things. Some of my peers were far less fortunate and were regularly abused for the slightest missteps.
I had good friends among the editorial staff; one of them was an old college friend of Patrick's who had gotten me the initial job interview. The others approved of me once they realized that they wouldn't have much to do in the way of proofreading when it came to the documents I submitted on behalf of my boss.
But still: there was not much crossing of the social strata, aside from the occasional extramarital scandal. This is what makes my friendship with Debra such a miracle to me.
Debra was (and is) a highly ranked equities analyst, like my boss, but in a different area of research. The high rankers often consulted one another on strategies, however, so Debra and my boss spoke fairly often. One day at lunchtime as she walked past my desk, Debra noticed me reading a science fiction novel. "Hey!" she cried with her characteristic enthusiasm, "I just read that one. I loved it!"
An animated conversation followed. Mutual geekery easily bridged the previously immense social chasm between analyst and secretary. After that, we went to lunch once in a while and lent one another books nearly weekly. Over the next year and a half, we attended the superlative Readercon twice and the fascinating Lunacon once together. (I'll never go to Lunacon again, but that's a subject for another post.)
Once I left Morgan Stanley (with sixteen weeks of fully paid maternity leave, thank you VERY much) to have our oldest child, Christian , Debra went out of her way to keep in touch. I'm not great at long-distance relationships, but due to Debra's efforts and the wonders of the internet, we've been friends now for eighteen years.
Debra has always loved art, color, and light; when I first met her, she collected kaleidoscopes and dabbled in creating collages. In recent years, however, she has become an avid quilter. She pieces both traditional and contemporary patterns of her own design. During her vacations, she takes classes from quilt masters around the country and is always striving to improve her technique. Whenever she visits, she brings her quilt photo diary along to show me, and I'm always astounded at the breadth and genius of her work.
Debra came up to Cold Spring recently and presented Anne with a gorgeous quilt. I wish the colors in this photo were truer; the blue is a true periwinkle, and the green is a very satisfying olive. The work that went into the design and the execution astonish me; Anne and I will treasure this always. Gifts from the pocketbook are often nice, but gifts from the heart and hands? Priceless. Thank you, Deb; I feel rich to count you as my friend.