Bethy (posed here with her tiki goddess Pele at Disneyland) is my bestesty best friend in all the cosmos. She got me liking Metallica (hail to fire), and she got me writing poetry and stuff, and now I always keep a pen in my pocket for inspirational emergencies. Memories of Beth start in the ball room at Sutter Middle School, with penicillin growing in the corner because that's where we threw our orange peels, a small bag of salami in my lunch happily passed around, Metallica sneaking out of a walkman with two inch high speakers, Cellophane and MetallicaBrains standing in the doorway. Then they move on to Cleveland High School, and sitting in A-Hall in front of Beth's locker playing poker and listening to the Lion King and Phantom of the Opera and of course Metallica, discussing such topics as alternate realities and past lives. I remember when we went to New York for a week because my grandmother was sick, and when I came back I got tackle hugged. We interned at public access for nearly two years (see this section: CVI), and I remember sitting in the control room during dinner break, pretty much having the whole place to ourselves to practice with, learning how to patch the audio so we could get, you guessed it Metallica, pumping through every speaker in the place, on the stage, in Eric's office, everywhere, we rule.

Ada and Bo
Ricky

more when I find more pictures...

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