Big Noise from Winnetka…
I’m having a martini and letting Spotify set the mood when a song I’ve never noticed before comes on — Big Noise from Winnetka. The name catches me. Winnetka — could it be the same Winnetka where I went to high school, where I spent so much of my youth?
I look it up. Sure enough, it is. I read that the song’s later lyrics tell of a mysterious woman from Winnetka who captivates the hearts of local men.
I can’t help but think of T. She wasn’t mysterious — she didn’t need to be — but she was effortlessly cool, the kind of girl who made an impression without trying. She could light up a room, but she was grounded, too. The whole package.
We stayed loosely in touch over the years. Every so often — five, maybe ten years — we’d cross paths. A beer when she was back in town, a few messages online. The last time I saw her, my wife and I met her at a local bar. We laughed, reminisced, and caught up on life.
Not long after, she got sick. Cancer. She passed too soon.
There’s a Jewish saying at funerals: “May their memory be a blessing.”
I’m not sure what kind of legacy I’ll leave, but my memories of T are blessings — small, shining moments that surface unexpectedly, like this song from Winnetka on a random evening. I’m happy to have known her.