Maggie Bendicksen

When I moved to Portland in ‘89, I read an article about Julie, cold-called her and asked if we could meet for coffee. She shocked me by saying yes - with the caveat that if Alec or Peter needed her, she’d bail, minivan always at the ready. (She repeated this every time we made plans.) Following that coffee, I volunteered with Portland Arts and Lectures and met Julie often for lunch at The Brasserie. We always got the unfortunately named Oriental chicken salad. When I became a single mom with two toddlers, Julie invited me to her office, spun through her rolodex and told me I didn’t fucking need their fucking father. I don’t remember her saying douchebag, but steam and flames were flying out of her beautiful head. Reading through these stories, I’m so heartened that I was but one of multitudes of people Julie mentored and supported. What a fucking gift to the universe Julie was and how fucking amazing that her spirit lives on in so many of us. Thank you, Peter, for giving us a space to share how much we adored your mom.