Cynematik • Cyndi Greening

I found out today that a friend of mine had passed away last week. I had known Melanie since second grade. Her mother was my Brownie leader the year we were in Mrs. Anderson’s class at Chestnut Elementary. Being from a small town, there was only one public Junior High and one public Senior High School so grew up together. And, since we were both a bit egg-headish, we ended up in a lot of classes together.

Most significantly, we were both in Spanish together with Senor Nelson. After senior year at Chippewa Falls High, we went to Mexico for seven weeks of study, exploration and silliness. One night, we were at the local pub and ended up being chased by sub-machine gun toting fellows who wanted to “keep” a few of the girls for themselves. It was a crazy, wonderful time and I always think of Melanie when I think about that trip.

She went on to Art School, became a stock broker and then a Fine Art Jeweler. We didn’t do a great job of staying in touch over the years but when we got together it was always fun. I’m glad to have known her and sad she passed on so early. As Claire said in SIX FEET UNDER, “If I’d known she was going to die so soon, I’d have done a better job of staying in touch.” I found this poem that Melanie wrote while she was in Junior High. It seemed fitting to reprint it here.

The First Snow of Winter by Melanie McCrossen (1957-2005) The first snow is a promise, Of many things to came; It whispers very softly, "There’s more where I come from." The first snow is a promise, Of a cold winter ahead; It whispers very softly, "I cover a land that’s dead." The first snow is a promise, Of snowstorms very near; It whispers very softly, "Winter skies are seldom clear." The first snow is a promise, Of green fields turned to white; It whispers Very softly, "Sharp is winter’s bite." The first snow is a promise, Although it melts away; It whispers very softly, "Remember what I say."

Taken from Creative Voices, Published by the Chippewa Falls Junior High School, 1970.