Love from: Vicky Phillips

I’m so happy that Lauren has followed Karen and me into the 70’s. Congratulations. Good luck traversing the narrow footpath and remember to always watch your step. I’m not kidding; I fell just this morning reaching for the phone charger. After “resting” for a few moments, I was able to flip over and downward dog my way up to an upright position.

My story about Lauren’s thoughtfulness comes from a time in the 80’s when Karen and Lauren lived in Concord, MA and I was visiting from New Zealand (where I was living at the time). Karen said to meet her in New York City for the weekend. We could all stay at Lauren’s cousin’s house near Central Park. “And, an old friend from Kansas City will be there,” Karen added. “She’s an artist, you’ll like her.” For some reason, perhaps jealousy or annoyance that I had barged in on her weekend with Karen, this woman hated me. It became obvious throughout the day until I had enough of her snide remarks and asked Lauren to find me a hotel for the next night. So the next day Karen and Kansas City went shopping and Lauren and I went to a furniture studio deep in the countryside. The tables were works of art with raw edges and tongue and groove details on the top. We spent a couple of hours talking with the artist who created these amazing pieces of furniture with Lauren asking hundreds of questions. The artist didn’t mind, he liked Lauren. I think eventually a table was ordered to be made for him and Karen.

We got back to the city late. I asked Lauren to drop me off at the hotel. It was around midnight. I checked in (with no bags) and I remember watching Lauren pay the tab with cash. “I’ll pick you up in the morning,” he said, and we hugged goodbye. I went up to my room and was just going to sleep when the door suddenly opened. A man was standing there looking confused. “Wrong room!” I yelled out. He left, I bolted the door, and went back to sleep. I’ve often wondered about that night. Who was that man and how did he have a key to my room? Did the hotel manager think I was a prostitute and directed the man to my room? Did he think Lauren was my pimp? I laughed when I thought of good, kind Lauren as a NYC pimp. 

These, of course, are my memories and may not be remembered in the same way by others. Nevertheless, I wish you all the best, Lauren.  ~Vicky Phillips