The chalkboard sign in the hallway set the stage – “Baker High Pepsters 1973 Reunion This Weekend!” Trudi Baltz was my best friend in high school, and we were officers in the Pepsters. My teenage years are incomplete without her.
Trudi was one of the smartest people in our class and could sing and play the piano at a professional level. But she was always humble about her accomplishments, hence the reason she was so loved.
After graduation, we went to separate colleges and our lives took different turns. I married my high school sweetheart and she married John Stafford, one of our friends from high school.
Their married life of 45 years has taken them to different cities – Pittsburgh, Fort Worth and, one of Trudi’s favorites, New Orleans. She earned her doctorate and has taught and mentored hundreds about how to be incredible nurses.
Their beautiful home in the Hill Country is filled with mementos of their travels and interests as well as photos of their beautiful daughter, Hillary, and her family. Their grandson, Ford, is the light of their lives and rightly so.
Trudi believes a sense of humor is the best sidekick to have in life. She owned up to having potted plants in her kitchen stove instead of burners. She’s been kicked out of more bars than even she can count. She laughs about these adventures and makes no apologies.
Five years ago, Trudi was diagnosed with a grave illness, myasthenia gravis, an auto-immune disease that causes breathing difficulties, muscle weakness and difficulty talking.
At the time of her diagnosis, Trudi was holding down a position as a well-respected hospital administer, training for half marathons and throwing beads from Mardi Gras floats each spring.
All that came to a halt. She doesn’t drive anymore, and there are days when it’s hard for her to walk unassisted, eat or talk. It would be easy for Trudi to feel sorry for herself.
But that’s not Trudi.
Not by a long shot, because she is the definition of finding joy in every moment of every day.
Instead of being angry and bitter at life for the hand she was dealt, Trudi made a decision to search for happiness, and she always finds it. Some days, that can’t be easy.
She undergoes plasma transfusions, a long, tough afternoon, a couple of times a month. But she makes that grueling process fun because she dresses up in a different, outrageous costume every time.
Sometimes it’s her majorette boots, other times big wigs and clothes from the 80s. Pom-poms are a must.
There’s a collection of blinged-out headbands in her closet, and she wears one every single day.
Although she can bring the party, it’s the quiet, genuine moments where Trudi’s true nature shines.
She knows the wait staff in the restaurants she and John frequent, and not just their names. Trudi knows about their families, and she has them over to her house for tea and conversation.
In every place we visited, she found someone to talk to, asking about their day and she’s never in a hurry or asking to be nosy. Trudi’s genuinely interested in other people.
She sees the beauty everywhere and doesn’t rush through life. Friendships are to be savored and treasured. Pretty afternoons are opportunities to enjoy walking Sevvi, their dog, napping under a shady tree or crocheting gifts for friends.
I owe her more than I could ever repay. She pulled me out of the suburbs when I first came to Houston and introduced me to the Theater Under the Stars and the antique shops in The Heights.
When I was having a particularly rough patch, she called and told me she was putting the phone on the floor. Then she proceeded to yell Pep Squad cheers from high school, telling me when she was kicking her legs and what hand motions she was doing.
That’s the definition of a true, life-long friend.
I’ll bet there’s a hundred people in Horseshoe Bay who know if Trudi is in their life, they’re one lucky person.
Thank God, I’m one of those.
This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.