All memories of Ellen include her wonderful storytelling abilities and her robust laugh that always kept the rest of us in tears of joy. One event in particular has always been my favorite. In the mid-seventies, Ellen, our mutual friend Ginka, my husband Jorge and I, boarded the Greyhound in L.A., then caught the Tres Estrellas de Oro in Tijuana bound for Mazatlan. Three gringas and a Cuban on a bus full of nationals headed home. It was quite the adventure for us all, but at least three of us could speak Spanish. Not Ellen. It was a wild ride, but the bus driver seemed to know his way as he sped down the highway along the coast. At times it was a white knuckler to those of us unfamiliar with the route, but the three of us Spanish-speakers tried to play it cool, when Ellen looked out the window and read from a sign that we had just zoomed by. "What does curva peligrosa mean?" she asked. The next highlight of that trip was the night it seemed to rain frogs while the four of us celebrated in a piano bar listening to the local rendition of "Feelings". I can still hear her laughter in response to my question, "Who's Felix?" We'll miss that laugh, your twinkling eyes and the beautiful smile. Ellen, you brought so many of us memories to be cherished for decades to come. Rest in peace, dear friend.