Hello Ms. Drews and welcome to Divine Caroline. Would you briefly introduce yourself?
I’m a die-hard Wisconsinite, a wife, a mom, a terrible cook, and an eternal optimist. I married the cute kid that I unsuccessfully hid from while playing kick-the-can and sardines. No wonder he caught me since he later qualified for the Olympic Marathon Trials! I’ve never been a running star like my husband. I’m just one of the twenty million US women runners and am proud to say that I’ve completed eight marathons and more than a dozen halves. My former career was global, allowing me to accumulate air miles.
During each of our two son’s middle and high school years, I let them pick a one-on-one trip with just their mom. Yes, that was me sitting in the first five rows of those fifteen Dave Mathew’s Band concerts! As a freshman in college, I’d loved two basic studies courses—creative writing and introduction to computer science. In the seventies, the latter was an emerging field. Encouraged, I became the first graduate and was hired by IBM, putting my writing passion on the backburner until I retired in 2004.
Ever since some terrible tragedies occurred within Green Bay’s close-knit running community, I knew I had a story to tell.
You’ve written a true crime book about the death of your friend and the trial that happened afterward. However, I’d rather not let that overshadow a beautiful life that ended too early. Could you tell us a little about Pam?
I met Pam by chance, but we became soul mates by choice. She had a special smile, warm and genuine. Beneath her rough exterior, she often hid her tender side. As runners, we’d often jog at a comfortable pace while delving into every imaginable topic. There was nothing like a run, with miles of roads stretching out in front, to give us uninterrupted time to really talk. This is where we shared our aspirations, joys, and pains. It became our therapy, until, for Pam, my words were not enough …
As long as I’d known her she’d idolized her husband, Bob. Yes, he was “tall, dark and handsome,” but often aloof. As a child, Pam’s older brother had dubbed her a derogatory name, instilling a belief in Pam that she was unattractive. It was a given that I’d always have to boost her up. Though friends told Pam that she was beautiful inside and out, she just didn’t see it. Pam had a definite effect on the special education students she taught, but her own children were the centre of her world.
On our women-only weekend runs, Pam would lead the charge as we’d take over the men’s bathrooms and during the race, she’d enjoy sweating and spitting. She had loved breaking the social constraints decreeing that exercise was unseemly for us but appropriate for our husbands. Dr. Ronald Rook, an orthopaedic surgeon, once said, “I do not run to add days to my life—I run to add life to my days.” And so did Pam.
Obviously, writing about the death of your good friend would be hard. Many people wouldn’t want to delve back into those memories and feelings after the fact. Did you find it hard to write this book?
People often ask me that question. It was difficult reliving that painful period of my life, especially reading Pam’s journals, but it was something I had to do. For decades I’d continued to speculate about my friend’s death and wondered if I really knew all the facts. While doing my research, I did uncover new insight about the police investigation, the in-chamber motions, and the relationship between Pam and myself. Removed from my emotions, my pregnancy induced hormones, the media, and the biases of friends, I shockingly discovered that my previous beliefs about Pam’s death had changed. I also realized how much I still miss her.
