Written by:
“Liz Levy”
on March 10 2009, at 4:53 am

I was several years ahead of Dora at JBS when she was there. I felt a deep connection with her, and she and I had some beautiful and meaningful conversations. I graduated and she went to Ladue, and I regretfully lost touch, but thought about her often. I didn’t know she was at Hampshire until after she moved back to Saint Louis (I went to Mount Holyoke, very nearby) and regret that we did not have a chance to reconnect. Dora had such an intense and beautiful way of looking at the world. I remember the last conversation I had with her. We were sitting on a couch at a graduation party one of our mutual friends was having in 2001. It had been a very tough year for both of us, and I remember feeling so close to her. I would hear about her from mutual friends occasionally once she moved home, and feel in love with her music on myspace. I have thought of Dora often this past year. She brought such warmth and insight and beauty to this world, and it will always be a dimmer place without her in it. I listen to her voice on my Itunes playlist, and pray that she has found peace and comfort. RIP Dora. -Liz Levy

Written by:
“Sly Shapey”
on July 9 2009, at 5:04 AM

I was moving to Brooklyn the day that Dora’s memorial was held there. It was an emotional reunion with a lot of college friends, to say the least. We sang for her that night. I have since sang a few personalized versions of the Man in the Market song. That song is like a classic, and can be remixed or rearranged in any way if anyone a bit more capable than I hasn’t thought to give it a go.
I don’t think it was right for her live to be cut short. But I do think
every second lived and breath
exhaled was a lesson and a
blessing for the world.
I can’t list the ways my outlook
on life
was influenced by this
perfect genius in a
blog post.

i don’t think there’s blogs where Dora is now
there’s probably fingers strumming and drumming
and voices singing songs that you’d think would
be a bit explicit inside club heaven

and all the angels are lifting their
robes and kicking their feet

salutations condolences libations liberation keep living keep on and seeing the intersecting universes so you know that everyone you love is here whenever you hear the vibrations

She let this comment on one of my other posts : “I have never heard anything quite like it. Just, now words. Makes my heartstrings play independently of my will.” (18/08/07)

I never met her. But i guess we had the same passion for the music.

Love to her family and friends

i don’t think there’s blogs where Dora is now
there’s probably fingers strumming and drumming
and voices singing songs that you’d think would
be a bit explicit inside club heaven

and all the angels are lifting their
robes and kicking their feet

salutations condolences libations liberation keep living keep on and seeing the intersecting universes so you know that everyone you love is here whenever you hear the vibrations

Written by:
“Sheila (Magrath) Miranda”
on November 29 2008, at 6:34 AM

This is so beautiful!! I am Dora’s oldest sister and for myself and my family you all have touched us so deeply with this tribute. Thank you, thank you!! This week is also my birthday week and I miss sharing it with her. I wish all of you all the best in your lives ahead and please keep in touch. You are our link to Dora’s life away from home. She loved you all so much! Celebrate her life today. She is at peace!

The other day, Dora’s mom Linda told me that they were putting together a memory book about Dora, and that her family was inviting all of Dora’s family and friends to submit whatever they wanted to include in the book. Below is something that I wrote for that book. When I re-read it, I can picture sitting with my friend like it was just yesterday, and it makes me miss her that much more.
——————————————-
Laughter.

Of all the times I spent with Dora, I don’t remember a single one of them where we didn’t laugh.
She would get that little gleam in her eye, and the laugh would slowly roll out of her, sometimes sounding like she had the hiccups. It would build, and build, and sometimes, if you were lucky, she’d let out her famous Dora snort.

Dora’s laugh was infectious, and it almost became a game for me to see how hard I could get her to laugh. It was the great reward for telling a good joke, or a really funny story. No matter what was going on in my life, a laugh from Dora could turn my day around.

There was always something very special about being with Dora. I could never quite put my finger on it, but somehow it was her laughter that was at its center. She always made me smile, and her smile would always brighten my day. She’d walk into my office with a handbag over her shoulder, big sunglasses on, and a jacket that made her look like she had just stepped out of the 1960s. I would tell her every time she came in that I thought her handbags were getting progressively larger and larger, and that some day they would be bigger than she, and she’d only barely be able to drag such a bag through the office door. When I’d tell her this, she’d reach deep into the bag and pull out some sort of snack or small corner of something to munch on, look at me thoughtfully, and then break into laughter. There was something undefinable about these moments when it was just her and me sitting in the afternoon sun by the window in my office, trying to make each other laugh more than the other one. It was something about Dora that would just make me smile.

I miss her laugh. I miss her handbags. I miss the endless stream of snacks that she pulled from those bags. Mostly, I just miss laughing with her, sitting in the sun, and hoping to hear her snort.

I know this is a difficult month for all of you. I remember your family from the 1994-1998 period when I worked at NLU. I still think of you and pray for all of you.

I am so honored that I was allowed to see Dora dance as a child. That is the memory I keep of her — she was an etherial sprite. I saw her at Alex’s Bar Mizpah, but didn’t get to talk with her. It’s hard to pull together the threads of Dora’s life and yet, I know that she is contributing to a heavenly world that we can scarcely imagine.

My prayers are with you —

Jane Maule

I called your cell the other day just to hear your voice. It sounds crazy, but I needed to hear it.

Thank you for reminding me that it is possible to be both fierce and fragile, to be strong and soft. Thank you for being so open and vulnerable to the world.

I think about you everyday.

I’ve started and re-started posts to you here a million times. I never make it through, because it never seems good enough, or I become too sad and can’t write anymore. I will continue to write to you on my own, to listen to your songs, and to wish I could run into you and hear you say “Jamie K!!” again.

I hope you heard the song that Krithi sang for you at commencement. I hope you feel and know how many people miss you and think about you everyday.

Love,
Jamie