We were about nine years old when we met and were fast friends right from the beginning. Tischa was a wonderful ballet dancer at an early age, was rapier sharp and thus demolished any and all myths that blondes are dumb. Yes, she was and is a blonde, for all you brunette and redhead readers in need of an explanation.
There are old friends and then there are old friends who are family members in our hearts. At least this is my truth. To this day the friends I grew up with on Buchanan Street in Pearl River New York are family in my heart: Patty and Barbara are, then now and always, sisters in my heart a soul. Billy and Brian and Mark and Richie are now and always brothers in my heart.
I fell in love with the ballet at age five and began taking classes at age eight. In my first year of dancing I met Thea, a remarkable girl my age. She didn’t love dance to the extent I did, but we became fast friends and Thea is now and always a sister in my heart.
Recently I reconnected with Tischa and I am overjoyed. She is happily married to a wonderful man and they have two sons. Tischa is a social worker and all that I’ve known and know of her tells me she is a great one. Like all those mentioned in this missive, Tischa new my father and mother. They knew her and both loved her.
Tischa’s mother was a wonderful woman named Lee. She was one of my dance teachers. Her father was (in my mind) named Colonel. He headed the New York Military Academy in Cornwall on Hudson in New York. My grandfather, Prescott Beach, attended the academy, then under the leadership of Sebastian C. Jones, many years earlier before he went into the Army and fought in World War I.
This September I will see Tischa again for the first time in more than 30 years. We talked on the phone recently and it was as if we hadn’t missed a beat. I guess that’s the way it is with sisters some times, especially the ones you love and love you back.