Indulge this celebration of the 40th anniversary of my good friend Cathy’s birth. She’s been my staunchest supporter, in good times and bad.
I could go on with the platitudes, but here’s what I like best about Cathy. Despite owning and operating a successful start-up (which she built without any deep-pocketed benefactors, family connections or academic pedigree), she’s not above claiming this anecdote from our college years:
Having shared a fascination with the tacky pirate decor of Long John Silver’s, Cathy soon discovered a talent for aaarghing — bellowing, guttural aaarghs, the kind that could silence a crowded auditorium. Eager to exploit this breathtaking skill, I would often chauffeur Cathy down sorority row, searching for unsuspecting targets, usually a jogging Stepford sister. We’d approach slowly, turning on the tape recorder just in time for Cathy to deliver a perfectly timed (in all caps, with multiple exclamation points) “AAARGH!!!” One of her victims actually fell off her bike. We would’ve shown some concern had we not been laughing so hard.
When your movement is instrumental in securing nominations for the likes of 