My long-time friend Rozann Stayden from both Cincinnati and DC days died on February 24 last year. It’s taken some time to process this. I knew her for 35 years. It’s dawned on me recently that she is one of the few people who could understand 100% of anything I could feel, think or say. I want to call her–and I can’t do that. We didn’t see that much of each other or talk that much in the last 10 years. When we did see each other we often argued. And when I called her we often argued. We had lots of mutual friends–some of them I had introduced her to decades ago–and she always knew what was going on with all of them. I have scores of stories about Rozann–and lots of them are drinking stories (mega-outrageous bohemian ones).
