Lora, at right here in 1961, was always popular with everyone. She even dated Sylvester Stallone at one point. I was shy. In fact, before he knew my name, my future husband used to refer to me as “the girl with Lora.” She led us into mischief occasionally—my parents were stricter than her widowed, working mother—but we were too naive to be truly bad. We both loved home economics and made all of our dance dresses. We were separated during our college years when she moved to Colorado, but later we had wedding and baby showers for each other. I wish there were fewer than 1,000 miles between us today, but I guess that’s life.