Merri Joyce
Merri Joyce and I were both 8 years old when we met in her backyard in Phoenix, Arizona. I don’t think we liked each other right away. I thought she was kind of snooty, and maybe she thought the same thing about me. But there we were, splashing in her pool, because her mom and my mom had been best friends in high school. Her older sister, Gerri pretty much ignored us, but her younger sister, Bobo, was the same age as my sister, Claudia, and altogether a life-long family friendship was born.

My dad built them an ocean front house in south laguna and her family started spending summers in California. We played bongo drums, board games, dress-up, and created stories which we acted out like plays. With sister Gerri’s instructions, we learned to shave our legs. Gerri’s legs perfect. Merri and I left the bathtub covered in nicks and Band-Aids.

The Miss Universe contest was big on TV, and we turned it into our own private game, with borrowed evening gowns from my mother’s closet and oversized heels. I have a photo of Merri standing on the end of our diving board, the winner after the ‘bathing suit’ competition, holding a baton as scepter and a beaming smile.

We spent summers on the beach slathering turtle oil on our bodies determined to create the darkest tan, while drenching our hair in lemon juice, equally determined to be blonder. We body-surfed, played endless games of gin rummy, and rolled the yatzee dice until the setting sun sent us trudging back to whatever dinner mama Joyce had prepared for us.

Did we have a crush on the boys? Oh my god, yes. Billy Hamilton, of surfer fame, was a local on our beach, and Merri was gaga-eyed if he even looked in her direction. Sadly, he was focused on the older girls who had boobs and knew the proper pink lipstick pout.

Merri’s family moved full time to Laguna Beach in 1964 and she made friendships that continued throughout her life. Our families had matching cabin cruisers, and Avalon Harbor became a hangout. We ‘twisted’ our bodies at the Saturday night street dances and flirted with the tanned and muscled trash-boat guys. With Merri at the helm of a motor powered dingy, it was like Mr. Toad’s wild ride, and more than once, we narrowly missed crash-landing into her parents’ boat.

Both sets of our parents were hard partiers and we took right after them. We’d dress up in cocktail dresses, coif our hair – oh my god did Merri love to do her hair? I’m surprised she didn’t end up a hairdresser like her sister. The updo, with lots of twists and face curls. Perfect eyeliner and mascara over curled eyelashes. Hours in front of the mirror making ourselves shimmer. High heels and out the door. Seven and Seven – bourbon and seven-up – the drink of that moment.

Slumber parties, the pop-up parties when somebody’s parents were away. We’d cobble together money, buy jugs of red mountain burgundy, or if we felt really flush, Mateus Rose in the pretty shaped bottle.

Our parents were sure that swimming would keep us out of trouble, so they joined the Bay Club where Merri met coach Bill. She definitely had a crush on him, and when I had access to mom’s mustang convertible, we’d make a mad lunch run up the coast so they could share a kiss.

The last day of sophomore year, we made a not-too-smart decision and planned a breakfast of beer. Costumes were involved. Me in a pith hat carrying a teddy-bear, and Merri dressed up like Alice in Wonderland. And no, our adventure did not have a good ending.
Merri married Bill right after high school, and become the first of us to be a Mrs. Sadly, her Mr. decided that I was a bad influence and she was no longer allowed to spend time with me. I moved to Hawaii, and when I came back, there was little Billy, the shine and joy in her life. God, a mother! Merri was too headstrong to stay under Bill’s domineering thumb. She divorced him, moved to Arizona, and raised Billy as a single mom.

Merri flew back to California to my bridesmaid, again, perfect hair and makeup, dressed in a yellow satin gown. The after-party was wild, and yes, she did end up in the pool fully dressed.
Blink and I’m off to Arizona to her wedding with Ross. Blink again, and there’s baby Kerri, born seven months after the birth of my second son. Our lives now intertwined over diapers, feeding schedules, and playgroups.
Merri and Ross’s life was like a fairy tale with lots of travel and friends. Ross’s death was devastating and drastically changed her trajectory. I convinced she and Kerri to come to my home in Baja, where we drank margaritas, sunned ourselves on the beach, swam in the sea, healed a bit and made more memories.
A long weekend at Merri’s house with three other high school girlfriends was filled with giggles, Merri’s signature cranberry-orange-vodka cocktail, and her mouth exercise instructions to stave off wrinkles.

As Huntington’s Disease slowly began to steal my friend away from me, she became determined to stay productive. Merri trained to be a chair-yoga instructor and massage therapist, and gave me one of the best massages I ever had. I can still feel her loving fingers on my skin.

Beautiful Kerri and her wonderful husband, Adam stepped in to care for her, trying first to keep her at home with them, and then making the hard decision to place Merri with those better equipped to handle her physical needs.

Lifelong friendships are a treasure, and mine with Merri was extraordinary. I was blessed to spend a day with her last December when she entered Hospice, and then blessings upon blessings, the day before Merri left us, Kerri arranged for us to FaceTime together. I shared some of the stories I’ve shared with you, and watched her face light up with memories. She will forever be the snooty 8-year old I met, the beach-girl boat-girl I grew up with, and beautiful mother and grandmother she became. Save travels in the afterlife, Mer-Mer. You live on in all our hearts.