COMMUNITY MOURNS AUTHOR AMY ETTINGER
Rare cancer claims former journalist at age 49
Local essayist, journalist, editor and writing teacher Amy Jordana Ettinger died last week at her home in Santa Cruz from a rare and aggressive form of cancer called leiomyosarcoma.
Ettinger, 49, is survived by her brothers Mark and Steve, her aunt and uncle Mary and Kenny Parker — her daughter, Julianna, and her husband, Dan White, whom Ettinger met while she and White were both working at the Santa Cruz Sentinel.
“This was in 1998,” wrote Dan White to the Sentinel. “I was a reporter and she was writing wedding announcements when we met. From the beginning, I noticed that she had such a strong spirit, and I could tell she was brilliant, focused and very creative.
She was also full of writing ideas and hoped to contribute to journalism in ways that went far beyond her job at the time — writing cute news briefs about couples making their vows. And, of course, I couldn't help but notice that she was beautiful.”
White said that he had wanted to ask Ettinger out but admitted he was too shy to make a move. So, for a time he just admired Ettinger from afar until one fateful day when the two young writers were brought together by a stolen mail truck.
“I was working on a breaking news story about a strung-out thief who stole a postal truck and was leading the police on a wild chase through the San Lorenzo Valley,” said White. “Amy heard me talking loudly and excitedly about this story to an editor. I mentioned that the thief was from Cupertino. Amy walked over to me and said, “That's where I'm from, too — Cupertino!”
White said he still owes that thief a thank you. Although the breaking news had broken the ice between them, White was still too
shy to ask Ettinger out. Fortunately, one of the Sentinel's editors recognized the chemistry between the two and gave them free tickets to a revival concert for the American folk band The Kingston Trio, which was held at the Cocoanut Grove. However, the date was a disaster, according to White.
“I was way too cheap to
park at the Boardwalk so I left my car in Seabright and the two of us had to walk back on the trestle bridge over the San Lorenzo River,” said White. “At one point a huge rat did a standing long jump over my foot. Amy saw that rat and gave me a look like, `Are you out of your mind?'”
Despite the leaping rodent, Ettinger agreed to a second date, which went much better than the first, according to White. They discussed an early memoir White was working on over Polar Bear ice cream.
“Pretty soon we became inseparable,” said White. “In the past 25 years, we were rarely apart unless I was off traveling, or crashing through the wilderness for a book or essay, or she was on a research trip.”
A call to writing
Shortly after Ettinger was born in Rochester, New York, her family moved to Cupertino. Ettinger attended Cupertino High School and was involved in the school's drama and band programs and also discovered her calling in journalism.
Amy's brother, Steve Ettinger, said that growing up, he admired his sister's ability to focus and follow through with her goals, despite obstacles.
“My sister kept to herself much of the time,” said Steve Ettinger. “Reading was a very important pursuit for her, as she would spend hours in bed reading books. One memory I have from our childhood was of us sitting on my bed and watching episodes of “Mission Impossible” and “Star Trek” together.”
While still in high school, Ettinger was chosen to be one of five young contributors for the San Jose Mercury News' “Our So Called Lives” column (think, “My So-Called Life”) and wrote about the angst and ennui of Generation X.
After high school, Ettinger attended UC Santa Cruz where she majored in American literature and met lifelong friend, Bessie Weiss, in a class taught by literature professor Paul Skenazy.
“I was drawn by her light, our shared love of literature, as well as that incredible laugh that bubbled out of her, and our friendship blossomed immediately,” Weiss wrote to the Sentinel. Although the two friends went down different career paths after college, Ettinger into writing and Weiss into corporate America, they remained close friends.
“Less than a week before she died, Amy made me promise to take my wife to Paris this year after I mentioned it's something we've always wanted to do together,” said Weiss. “I wish I could consult with her about planning the trip, and share the stories and photos from it after we return. But the conversation we started nearly 30 years ago will continue for as long as I am around.”
After graduating from UCSC, Ettinger later earned her master's degree in journalism from Northwestern University in 1999. Before becoming an independent journalist, editor and author, Ettinger served a stint as a reporter for the Monterey Herald. Throughout her career as a freelancer, Ettinger contributed to the New York Times, the Washington Post, New York Magazine, Salon, CNN, Newsweek and AARP, among others.
“She realized that she could be raw and elegant and truthful in print in ways that transcended mere speech,” said White. “Her natural shyness fell away when she was writing on deadline. She loved the challenge of it. And she loved the idea of getting out of one's own way in the writing process. The writing she did was so powerful and intense because it was incredibly direct — she had this way of circumventing a reader's defense systems. Amy wrote with an absolute minimum of ornamentation. Her style was bold and direct, tender and unsparing.”
Finding the `Sweet Spot'
In 2017, Ettinger's nonfiction book “Sweet Spot: An Ice Cream Binge Across America” was published by Penguin Random House. The critically acclaimed work is part memoir and travelogue and explores the history of ice cream makers and the ice cream industry across the United States.
“She grew up in Cupertino when the area was making an awkward transition into the tech megalopolis it is now, and she often felt unsettled as a child,” said White. “Ice cream was the one steadying, comforting thing that was always there for her.”
Composing the book was an adventure for Ettinger who traveled the country eating ice cream, riding along in an ice cream truck, learning how to make the sweet treat, and even interviewing Jerry Greenfield of Ben & Jerry's fame.
“The book in some ways was a formal exercise for Amy — a kind of dare — `Can I write a great, enthralling book about a dairy product? You think I can't pull it off? Just watch,' ” said White. “And she did just that, going on NPR several times and speaking to big crowds about her book, and getting all these great reviews. There was definitely an aspect of `I'll show you' that was hardwired into Amy.”
A writer to the end
White said that one of the more painful aspects of the cancer diagnosis was that Ettinger's writing career was taking off more than ever and she was invigorated to keep writing.
“It was just so sudden and shocking for all of us,” said White. “Amy and Julianna and I were out visiting my high school pal in Chicago in July of 2023. Amy was troubled by a lump in her abdomen that she'd noticed recently. She was also experiencing exhaustion and some strange swelling in her legs.”
When the family returned to Santa Cruz, Ettinger's primary care physician referred her to an oncologist, who ultimately diagnosed her with stagefour cancer.
“The oncologist only gave her a few months to live,” said White. “I remember Amy listening to this news calmly while I was just covering my eyes, shaking my head. It didn't seem real.”
White pointed out that Ettinger loved being a mom and raising their daughter, Julianna, who gave Ettinger strength and respite during the illness.
“Having a kid was one major reason Amy wanted to stay healthy and active for as long as she could,” said White. “For a very short while she was doing pretty well with chemo — it might have bought her an extra month or so, but she drew a really terrible card with this leiomyosarcoma — a truly wretched disease.”
Ettinger taught a popular creative writing class for Stanford University Continuing Studies, and taught the final course a few weeks before she died.
“She would teach her heart out and collapse on the bed afterwards and do it all over again the next week,” said White. “I would try to talk her out of it and she'd say, `No, I want to do this.' I have never, ever seen that sort of focus, determination and energy from anyone, anywhere.”
Last August, Ettinger wrote “I'm Dying at 49. Here's Why I Have No Regrets,” for the Washington Post. And her follow-up story, “I Have Little Time Left. I Hope my Goodbye Inspires You.” appeared on the Washington Post's homepage less than two weeks before she died in her home the morning of March 20.
“She was so clear about who she loved, and what she wanted, and what she wished to do with her life,” said White. “Until her diagnosis, she had no way of knowing her life would be abridged — but she lived her life as if she knew that all along.”