Dunkirk NY – On the morning of Christmas Eve, while visiting my son in Oneonta for Christmas, I received word that a former student of mine, Karen Volpe, had decided to terminate treatment for her pancreatic cancer. Later that day, as the sun was setting, I was informed that she had died. I do not know her exact age, but she was probably one side or the other of 50; too young, at any rate.
Because I do not have social media accounts, I was unable to follow her fight against the cancer, but one of her classmates kept me updated via email. Since she was a performer and someone who promoted her career on social media, she documented various stages of her illness. I cannot think of anyone who was more positive, optimistic and full of life than Karen, and from what I understand, that is what you saw on the various video updates she posted. She wanted to make sure no one felt bad for her.
Her personality was infectious. She was a master entertainer and performer. She loved music and musical theatre, and in fact when she was a student, she sort of avoided me (I think) because I had a reputation for disliking musical theatre (not so; I dislike bad musicals). We actually got to know each other better after she graduated and moved to California with Paul and they started building their careers. Their energy and output was prodigious. They started a website called The Movie Guys, which reviews movies and celebrates everything Hollywood. Karen performed at various theatres in the region doing well-known Broadway musicals, and became a self-styled country singer, producing her own work. Among other things, she created an act called the Boobé Sisters, a hilarious and sometimes quite salacious mix of 60s do-wop and crude parodies of pop songs (if you hear their version of “Downtown” you’ll never be able to hear Petula Clark’s version in the same way). This was not a woman who sat on her fanny and waited for things to happen. She made a career for herself out of the mix of vivaciousness and talent that she possessed, and with everything she created and did, there was always an infectious joy contained in it. It was impossible to be around Karen and not think the world was an incredibly joyful place.
The few times I’ve been out to LA, I always made a point of looking up Karen and Paul. They always made time for me. I was interested in their perspective on things in LA and the business. They, in return, were very interested to make sure that the theatre students I was teaching got the right information, and I brought back from them plenty of insights and tips I never would have thought of. They welcomed any Fredonia student who moved to the area. I visited their home, part of which they had converted into their own private video studio. They were delighted to take me on tours of LA and Hollywood, and brought me as close to the iconic Hollywood sign as one could get by road. The Hollywood Bowl, Grauman Chinese, Hollywood and Vine, Rodeo Drive, movie studios, celebrity mansions – I got the grand tour. We had lunch at a 50s drive-in place (the name of which escapes me at the moment, might have been a Bob’s Big Boy). At every stop Karen would wax eloquent about the features of the particular attraction. She was the proverbial kid in a candy store. She was a hard-core original Ghostbusters fan, having seen that version at least 10 times. Bill Murray was her favorite actor and comedian.
The last time I saw Karen was maybe three or four years ago, when she and Paul came to the area to visit family (Karen is from nearby Jamestown) for the holidays. Karen was into Christmas big-time, and I went down to one of the local bars to catch the Boobé Sisters Christmas show. Naturally I had a blast. Of course in one of the numbers Karen had to call me up on stage and flirt with/tease me as part of her act. The next day I was invited as a guest on a live audio podcast of The Movie Guys, and she, Paul and I talked about movies we enjoy (with a little baseball thrown in). We’ve always had a running gag among the three of us about how I don’t really enjoy the movies all that much, and that became a focal point of the show’s comedy and good-natured ribbing. Karen and I did agree that Bill Murray was a very interesting talent, but while she still preferred Ghostbusters, I went with Lost in Translation. I think we met somewhere in the middle, around Groundhogs Day and Scrooged.
Rule #1 in my classroom was “It’s Not Fair.” Usually I made that reference in terms of some aspect of the theatre, particularly the business aspect. But it was also meant as a life lesson as well. Of all the things in life that are not fair, the loss of a young and dynamic life such as Karen’s is the most unfair of all. Yet I cannot help but believe that Karen had one of the most successful and joyous lives of anyone I’ve known. She married the love of her life, she created a fantastic career out of her sense of comedy, joy, and musical talent, she never let up, she never gave in, she made many, many friends, she spread optimism, laughter and love everywhere she went. Her death may seem unfair, but her life was as fulfilling as it was because she never let unfairness get in her way, conquering it instead with her love of all life had to offer.
In John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men, the character of Lenny unwittingly kills mice because, in his attraction to the soft fur of the mice, he pets them too hard. Even Death, I think, was enamored with Karen Volpe, such was her love for life. He wanted to hold and touch her just a little bit, soft and gentle, to feel what Life was about; but like Lenny, he pet her too hard. As I hung up the phone after getting the news of her death, I saw the sun setting below the hills outside the window of my son’s house. This haiku came to me:
sunset – the bright fire
that lit her life fades behind
the bare winter hills
We are left to remember how bright that fire burned. -twl
