Anna Nicole

I've been thinking about Anna Nicole and why news of her death made me feel like crying, like I knew her or something. People die every day. Every day, there's news about how many soldiers died in Iraq, how many died from a car bomb. Yesterday I read about that little boy who died when he tried to rescue his brother who'd fallen in the ice. Heartbreaking enough, without worrying about Anna Nicole.

Then I realized Anna Nicole is that friend we all had that was absolutely beautiful, incredibly sweet and good hearted, smarter than she let on, who just kept falling down. She had a great body, a tragic childhood, terrible taste in men, never felt like she was good enough and always had a tragedy brewing. Maybe we were a bit jealous of her ability to look so good while being so tragic. Her life had some danger and glamour, yet she was jealous, too, that you had a child, a pet, a real job, a sense that there was more to life.

My very first tragic friend, the one I knew from late middle school, I haven't heard from in years. She could easily lie about her age, and was already working at a strip club in high school because her family didn't care and she made so much money and all that money and attention just made her feel good. She'd confide in me and I'd raise my eyebrows and yet be amazed by her audacity and secretly quite proud of her, though I worried. Anna Nicole made me wonder again whatever happened to Katie.