I am at a loss for words. Mala was 55. We should have been friends into old age. We're in our early 30s in this photo. We dated for a couple years and those years were full of adventure. She had an infectious lust for life.
En route to a friend’s wedding, we detoured, skinny dipped in a lake and then changed into formal wear to attend the ceremony.
I'd never downhill skied and she pushed me to the edge of my abilities on backcountry trails. I half-jokingly thought she was trying to kill me (she’d skied competitively).
We camped in remote terrain, through east coast snow and mountain west downpours. Through her I also hung out with a bunch of political scientists and realized that a career change might be in order (I ultimately left TV and tech, went to grad school and became a political scientist, too).
Decades later, we remained friends, still texting and grabbing tacos and beer whenever possible. I still love teaching her paper “Is Gender like Ethnicity?” and even imagined we’d co-author at some point.
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I'd never downhill skied and she pushed me to the edge of my abilities on backcountry trails. I half-jokingly thought she was trying to kill me (she’d skied competitively).