Sunrise, Sunset

A recent letter from Dr. Eileen reminded me of a strange happenstance.

It was December. Suddenly, a SUNSET magazine appeared in the mailbox, with Jenny's name on the address label. She came to Steve & I: "Is this some sort of joke?" None of us could figure out who would gift Jen a subscription to the magazine we grew up mocking, the magazine of our Nana who "archived" them in the bathroom, the pages forever wrinkling.

And then you know what starts to happen...you begin reading the damn magazine. It's like VIA or the electric company newsletter--if it happens to be sitting around when you're sitting around, you'll read it.

In August, 6 months after Jen was gone, an issue arrived with an article talking about Portland's up-and-coming art scene in the Pearl District. I was caught afire! I brought the magazine to the Lucky Lounge with me where I was meeting Meg.

How low had I stooped, bringing the magazine I once mocked to a bar? I showed the article to Meg and she said, "Maybe we should move to Portland."

So, we did. Right before leaving Oakland, I got a call one night: "Is Jenny Makofsky there?"

A chill ran through me. Who didn't know Jen had died? I said, "Sorry, do you know her?"

"It's Emily from Sunset Magazine. I wanted to know if she wished to renew her subscription."

"Oh, I'm sorry, she passed away."

"Oh! Oh no! I am so sorry for your loss."

I was so caught up in the condolences, it didn't occur to me to ask Emily how we had gotten the subscription in the first place.