Shannon Shanobo

It's hard for me to think of Shannon in seperate terms from Mark. They've been going more or less steady for nigh on six years now and the consensus is they'll eventually marry. Good for them, I say. They're a fabulous couple: hard-drinking, free spirited and given to sing along to John Prine songs on lengthy car trips. Some of the Best People I know.

But Shannon. We went to Waldorf school together for a long time, but she was a year younger than I, so there was little intermingling. We started hanging out in the middle teen years, when the whole group of us (myself, Mark, Luke, Laurel, Molly, Madeline and Shannon) would congregate on her family's giant trampoline and play the games that 15-year-olds play when they're learning how to be people.

Looking back on that time, it was a pretty special thing, to know enough good people that you could run friends-only poetry-reading sleepovers and have all kinds of fun with some cheezy techno and a bike-light strobe, no drugs and little sex required.

Shannon is one of the core members of the monkey tribe, and her energy lays a soothing, relaxing and empowering womanly tone over things. She also does some hip art, which I'll have to take pictures of the next time I visit her and Mark down in California.

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