Something I wrote (and altered slightly for posting here and now) about the Annie that
@finesse mentioned.
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Annie Freeman Roach, who passed away suddenly six years ago (Late June 2020), gave a good deal of her life to serving her friends. She did it with a smile or a snarl, whichever was most warranted. I worked with her at The Hardback Cafe & she served me & our community there & at The Cave. If you knew those places then you understand just how far this small-in-stature Little Giant could stretch herself. Having her around meant that you also got to meet John, the ‘other half of her Orange,” and that was a great thing.
A Diminutive Colossus who brimmed over with Uncompromisingly Sweet Attention/Intention. According to a story she related to me years later, she literally may have saved my life on one typically Chapel Hill night down in the Triangle of Tijuana Fats-The Cave-Pyewacket when an ex-girlfriend came looking for me with a pistol in her pocket. She probably saved a lot of folks’ lives. For a good while she was right in the very thick of everything that happened in a world of crazy music, art, poetry, prose, and the skirting the edge of reality on the periphery of ‘polite society’ that accompanied that life. She told me once that we were all fortunate to have made it through, that she had loved it, but wouldn’t likely push her luck again.
I hadn’t laid eyes on her in years but we had back channel communicated via social media a bit. It was good to know she was ‘out there’ listening to good tunes. She had dedicated most of her time to caring for her husband John who had become a paraplegic. We’ll all miss the outside chance we might encounter you again dear Annie. You were key.