Jennifer Barclay

Jenny Penny was my sister, and my friend. Growing up, we were always involved in some adventure: we played dolls for hours, put on stage shows in the backyard, spied on the neighbors over the fence. When we got older we spent hours tanning at the beach in the summer, working on that all-important skin glow. I remember the last year we went trick-or-treating: we were 15 and we dressed as dance hall girls from the wild west. “Aren’t you a little old for trick-or-treating?” we heard more than once. We didn’t think so. We still loved candy enough that we went home and laid out our haul just like we were still 7. We went to camp together, we took our first plane flight together, the first time we got drunk was together. Jen was only 9 months older than I am. At 56, she is far too young to have died. She had the best sense of humor and I can’t believe I’ll never laugh with her again. The years of adulthood separated us by miles and different paths, but whenever we did see each other we slipped right back into our old easy way of being together. There are so many things to say. I could list the places that she lived, the jobs she had, the family she has left behind, but none of that encompasses who Jennifer was. She was quirky, she loved animals, she spent her time combing thrift stores for vintage treasures. In stressful situations she became hysterical with laughter. In describing herself she wrote, “I am an enigma." These are the things I remember about Jennifer. This is the person I will miss.