Cousin Judy

When your Mothers are cheesy twins and you’re a child of the groovy 1970’s just assume that you will be dressed alike. At. All. Times. My Mom, Judy and her twin, Jinny, dressed alike until they graduated from L.S.U. In 1962. So despite my cousin Judy being two years older and a foot taller than me, where there’s a Butterick Pattern, there’s a way. 

Because one set of Judy and Jinny’s was not enough for the world, our Moms kept the fun rolling into the next generation. Having the unique spelling of Jinny in a sea of Jennifer/ Jenny/ Jens lead to a severe case of NFKASF Syndrome (Never Finding Keychains at Six Flags) within me as a child.  Every personalized ordered anything for me would arrive Jimmy Richardson. But now the quirky spelling fits and pencils be damned, I love my name. 

Our childhood Summers included a solid 2-4 week cousinfest; either our visit to Chicago’s Northern Suburb of Skokie or Jinny, Bill and Judy’s visit to Houston. Did I mention my Dad was named Bill?                  I can still taste the melted pimento cheese sandwiches from our day trip to NASA. Even the little plastic top shelf of an Igloo cooler had its thermodynamic limits. This is decades before The Yeti and the lower, iciest region was reserved for cans of Tab and Fresca. 

Cousin Bill had my two older brothers and I had Judy. We watched Grease in the movie theater together and choreographed dance sequences to John Denver that we felt were perfection. Later we sung the complete soundtrack to Best Little Whorehouse in Texas into my hand-held cassette recorder. Because cable t.v.  

When we grew older and less kidnappable, the five of us rode the Skokie Swift to the “L” eventually arriving at Water Tower Place and Marshall Fields; all while speaking Spanish. We were just so clever loudly rolling our R’s and discussing what Madre had sent us to purchase en la ciudad as if we were getting daily necessities from the Mercado. An afternoon Cubs game then a return to the Northern ‘burbs was Summer perfection. 

More than a running buddy Judy would go absolutely anywhere I wanted to go. In 1998 she got tickets to The Oprah Show and when the producers asked if anyone had an impression from the Seinfeld Show for Oprah’s farewell to Seinfeld show, Judy raised my hand. Frozen in the moment she said, “Do The Elaine Dance!” So 6 months pregnant with Baby Jack, I let it rip. Judy went out with me for the micro audition, refused to do the dance with me then cheered me on for my 9 seconds of Oprah fame. 

 From Judy I learned from the art of kindness and support. I have often said that she is hands-down the nicest one in our family. When I dressed up like a maintenance man and surprised her on her birthday a few years ago, she kindly redirected me when I approached her acting psycho. Many times I have seen her preciousness but never in cognito like that. 

She was my Maid of Honor in 1994 and proudly I will be her Matron of Honor this July when she gets married to Jesse, her person. I am thrilled beyond measure that God has blessed Mi Primita with the love of a lifetime. No one deserves a life of love more than my Juju.