192/365 Jackie HB

First sister-in-law: gracious, lanky, freckled, friendly, a lady
from early age, white-gloved in mind if not body.

Your wedding weekend: pool party, lunch-after-lunch, two rehearsal
dinners, six-or-eight bridesmaids, hundreds of guests.

Now mother-of-four, regular runner, fierce tennis player: you manage
a household the old-fashioned way, with steely hand-hipped smiles.

191/365 Eric

Fourth son, third-thinnest hair, second to marry, first
to attend an Academy. Generous soul, firmly
familial and filial: one of the good sons.
Can one become a Southerner via marriage and
habitation? Fathering Southerners? Perhaps
safest is a hybrid-identity: authentic Pennsylvanian,
Navyman who's confident on land and sea.

190/365 Library Clerk

Almond-tinted skin, almond-shaped face, you graciously
took my almost-tardy video when I rushed up
to the circulation desk, asking if I could put it
in "Book Return" slot:

"Why don't you give it to me," said offering a folded-open
hand, smiling. "Yes, well, makes sense," replied I, chagrined.

189/365 Lee-Ann

Home-state U, a coup for small-town girl,
impressing academics with orderly scholarship.

Weekly meetings congenial, productive, on-the-same-page.
Age gap didn't matter -- or did it: still not sure.

Respect went both ways: you're now mother of two
too, hoeing a well-worn row, raising up and putting down the future.

188/365 Kate B

Didn't know you, Grandmakate, but heard plenty:
oatmeal breakfasts in fogged-breathed winter,
duck's blood soup for Christmas Eves.

Your plump bespectacled smile, eyebrows arched like
jumpropes, in family reunion photos side-by-side with
deep-eyed fellow whose name and children you bore: eleven,
seven girls. Katherine lives on, in great-granddaughters.

187/365 Kate M

Artist-writer-owner of tree farm, The Farm.

Drinker of wines red, seeker of energies girls bring to artists' commune
edged by corn fields and loosestrife, jewelry for ponds.

Barn a silkscreen studio, diningroom a low-ceilinged
gallery: glass, fiber, wood, clay, paintings framed and un-
propped four-deep along walls: St. Paul born(e).

186/365 Kate K

1981: borrowed Woolf's Two Guineas to finish
Brown's seminar final: me too shy to get it back.

1999: teaching comp but really a poet, published, promoted,
earning, learning how creativity survives a 30-credit-semester grind.

2008: tall behind a podium, heavy bangs, white-less eyes,
reading the same book, editing another.

185/365 Sue S

Sharing a triple for a year doesn't lead
to knowledge/friendship/familiarity:
was it Dubuque? Father a banker?
Lots of dark freckles, not really happy about
being in college, just about being away from
home. Did we talk after first-year cohabitation? Did
you graduate? Where could you possibly be now?

184/365 Martha C

Mother of daughters, talented and quirky,
word-woman who's moved from print to
pixel. Still slim and aristocratic as your genes
prescribed, blue-gray eyes, light-flat lips,
dark hair curling like a Rossetti painting.
Easy conversation when we're in friends' living
room, warmly reconnecting after a
decade of second-hand news.

183/365 Judy L

Cartwheels in your backyard, practicing routines for
eighth-grade gymnastics: I managed one-handers,
you flexed into round-ups, stag-leaps, backbends: all to
"Long Cool Woman" on the tape-player.

Flew in your dad's two-seater, with you
on the floor? Jump seat? Later you jumped
into adulthood faster than I: still there?

182/365 Lucy&Duane

Midway neighbors, middle-aged since your thirties,
we smiled, visited across chain-link and peonies while
mowing lawns, taking out garbage, shoveling.

Your gray asbestos siding covered two stories of mystery:
tiny bay window of Lucy's kitchen?
box-packed sleeping porch?
towering short-wave antennae?
Nine days ago, the final mystery:
Duane's death.

181/365 Colleen

Edina Country Club, Men's Grill, waiting tables in green
polyester "uniforms," some kind of aprons: young
then, harassed by Kurt-the-bartender, flirted with by
Danny-the-waiter, Porter-the-cook, nearly all club members.

Crossword puzzles, half-gallons of Baskin-Robbins
in the break room, scooping ourselves an extra
dozen pounds that summer, back to The-College-of.

180/365 Dewitt

Completely opposite? Black man, Southerner, social
scientist, gay, mustached, published, living abroad.

Perhaps not: we share a fondness for one particular
fellow of Polish heritage, two now-grown kids, three
or four good novels, five batiked napkins and tablecloth.

Return to us late 20th-century
optimism and activism: you embody both.

179/365 Linda A-K

Teen-years ago we met, post partum, my own babe-
in-arms as I substituted for your Scott's class. Now Nora's grown
into a Zoe-replica: smarty-pantsed next generation.

Your tenacious scholarly pedagogy and practicality,
willing to let me conference crash in your hotel room,
sharing Chinese food, cabs, conversation: excellent collegiality.

178/365 Jackie K

My sister's best friend through school, together posing in
swimsuits at the college's pool: brochure covergirl material.

Made a good marriage: fun-and-funny Al you keep in
check, mother-in-law a hoot, sister-in-law a gem.

Work at the bank, insider knowledgeable: I noticed impeccable flower
gardens, perfect manicures-and-pedicures, newest handbag.

177/365 Larry R

One of the shortest boys in class, heavy chaff-blond hair
tended longish, wiry bangs thickly raked aside by
grubby-nailed fingers, up away from glasses.

Sharp-cheeked smiler, you laughed a lot, wore work
jeans, plaid shirts, boots grimed and rough-skinned
like many farm kids, grinning to bridge the farm-town gap.

176/365 Larry S

Square-jawed and straight-banged, you resemble slightly
Dennis-the-Menace from the black-and-white TV show,
perhaps older than you are. Amusing colleague who

neither shines nor shrivels, you offer suggestions to remind us
we're all really kids at the core, ready to play or
procrastinate, make a squinchy joke and leave.

175/365 Roger G

My first bedside death: visiting the hospital, not
knowing what to say, you immobile, not
speaking. You'd filled our gym with military bearing,
t-shirt tucked in, hands hanging behind hips,
feet flat as paddles. Pushing up glasses, coaching us
how to hit, pass, block, dig, not-split our chins.

174/365 Roger B

Everything about you was tall: even your face.
Good-hearted and -headed volleyball coach at The
College Of, you took me to the Greyhound station,
walking on the street side: "A gentleman does this" you said.
Living in the college's gymnasium, sleeping on mats:
does a gentleman do that, too?

173/365 Anne M-P

Working for your second husband, I edited your
job-application letter: what's curriculum vitae for priests?
Must've been successful: got the job, moving
red-lipsticked and earringed to California.

Later, church-hall restroom post-funeral, you, surprised,
recognized my voice not face, saying I'd "become beautiful,
not that you weren't before." Highest praise.

172/365 Betsy D

Still ocean-blue-eyed, delicately crook-toothed,
you're on YouTube, famous author now, deservingly so,

hardworking law student, mother of two now-grown
boys, one I babysat weekly for three years while you
read, wrote, studied the law that led to

your rise to public prosecutor: excellent
English major, using textual-evidence to win.

171/365 Betsy R

Youngest of five, eager smile, slightly
bucked teeth, chipmunk cheeks: cutest possible

combination of these features with bright dark-brown
eyes, skin tanned to browned meringue.

Moved to Texas, still there in your second marriage,
seeing two daughters into their own motherhood.

We've almost nothing in common except
grandmother-and-grandfather: enough?

170/365 Toby

Middle child, middle brother,
wide-mustached since middle school.
For years you were lost,
military? school? work? travel?
Turned up back in Cass Lake,
teaching, tutoring, training
youngsters, the model of instruction
deviating 180-degrees from your progenitor.
Fitting. Now taking it easy, laid back,
offering deeply-dark-haired acknowledgments
of trials and tribulations.

169/365 Jim/Jimmy

Goofy cousin
smilingly silly
head tilted
deep-set eyes
sad
but
wide-mouth laughing
arms and
legs gangling.

Grew into
too tall-thin
father of
too many
children, listening
to voices
tell you
what to
do for
a living:

scared me
most with
your dream
of the
"black box"
from God.

168/365 John/Johnny

Age-mate, we shared fold-out couch once, aged six: you wet the bed.
Your family's mattress, so I didn't worry, just wondered at
the oddness: didn't happen in my house.

Later you strove to follow your dad: less-than 20-20 vision
prevented the pilot's career. Law's a close second,
perhaps: one fighter pilot per family.

167/365 Brandon

Slim height . close-cropped hair beard clothes
Sprawling legs . knees pointed . elbows back to hold up your sleeves

Thoughtful outrage . passionate listening . clear contributions to
class discussion with forward-slanted hand tilts . notebook taps.

You came back to focus on academics . quit activism . stop
getting sidetracked by indignation:
can't happen

166/365 Terry

Corn-white hair, eyelashes too, melon-pink skin:

overnight camp, blankets tented over clotheslines,
eating penny-candy from Al's in the dark

forts in Berge's willows, inviting our moms for tea

bike hikes, picnics, gravel roads,
cut your foot wading in a culvert -- who rode
you home? Lost lots of blood.

165/365 Mike L

Now new nephew, officially, as if
that makes a significant difference: doesn't because
you've been a deep-dimpled, well-muscled, Chicago-raised addition

to our family since early this millennium, Micara's beaming
sidekick and support. I remember your gracious morning thanks
after a short night on a short bed: impressive, first grandson-in-law.