Today, September 5th, would have been her 47th birthday. Lori was born on the first day of school in 1971. She had an older brother who was born on Thanksgiving weekend three years before and then a younger brother born on the last day of school, June 23rd, 1977; significant because their father was a teacher. He taught sophomore science at Freehold Township High School—including the Honors Chem Lab.

Her mother was of Italian ancestry with dark hair and eyes; and her father was Irish with strawberry blond hair and very fair eyes and complexion. As a child Lori had long curly auburn hair and her eyes were dark brown; freckles scattered here and there showed her mixed heritage.  She was petite and wore glasses, causing a neighbor to nickname her “Munchie,” because she looked like a Munchkin from the Wizard of Oz.

In their large extended family there were twelve cousins around the same age–nine boys and three girls.  When they gathered for birthday parties or holiday events there would be a great feast followed by “Talent Hour” when all were expected to perform (sing, dance or play a musical instrument).  Lori played the clarinet.  She took lessons after school, but according to her father was “terrible–a waste of money.”

Her mother made sure that Lori would carry on the family’s culinary skills and traditions, so she introduced her to the cherished recipes and techniques of the kitchen. Her prized accomplishment was Italian Meatballs. One weekend she made and fed them to her friends as a late night snack during a sleepover. She was also adept at making chocolate chip cookies from scratch.

You always knew what was on her mind. She never sulked or held anything back, but was also kind and considerate. Her father relates this incident: One day we were in the car going to visit family, and I was wearing green polyester pants with a green shirt that I thought was color coordinated, but my wife said I looked like Kermit the Frog. From the back seat a sweet little voice said, “You look fine to me, Daddy.”

During eighth grade, Lori experienced a metamorphosis. Gone were the glasses; she grew taller and “filled out.” With flowing auburn tresses, she was a beauty. Her older brother, who would accompany her to school functions, laid down the law to his friends: “leave her alone.” He provided the same protection for her friends.

The summer after graduating from elementary school, Lori accompanied her Dad on a trip to Ireland. It was a last minute decision; the rest of the family had booked early and were all traveling together, so they had to make their own arrangements. They booked with Freddie Laker on Peoples Express, a no frills airline, and practiced dragging luggage around the house to prepare for their journey.

On the return trip they had a six-hour gap in their schedule, so Lori suggested going to see a movie –Revenge of the Nerds. Her father waited on the long line and when he reached the window asked for one adult and one adolescent ticket. “Would you be knowing this is an R rated movie and no adolescents are allowed?” scowled the ticket agent. Lori’s solution: wait fifteen minutes, get back on the line and ask for two adult tickets–which he did. This time the ticket agent said, “Congratulations, someone has just had a birthday. Are we going to get a piece of cake?” Tired and frustrated, her father asked for the manager, explained the situation and was admitted to the theater.

In England on the final leg of the trip Lori begged her father to go back into London to purchase a purse from a vendor for her closest girlfriend. Pressured by their tight schedule he said no, but she persisted. She JUST HAD TO GET IT. So they squeezed it in. In her father’s words “It was a pocket book that had all kinds of holes in it. It was a see-through thing that was the current fad.” Lori was a voracious shopper and didn’t wait for sales. When she wanted something it was NOW! However her selections were always thoughtful and unique.

One Halloween she was going to a dance and needed a costume–something unique, inexpensive, and prize-worthy. She decided on her mother’s wedding gown. It was about twenty years old and fit her like a glove. In her father’s words: She was stunning. That’s the closest I got to walking her down the aisle.

As special as she was in her parents’ eyes, Lori was a typical teenager and all-American girl. Her favorite color was purple. Her favorite song was Like a Virgin by her favorite vocal artist Madonna, much to the chagrin of her parents and her high school principal. She also liked Cindy Lauper (Time After Time) and Tina Turner (We Don’t Need Another Hero).

In Sophomore year she tried out for varsity cheerleaders and was devastated when she was not chosen for the team. She had the talent, the looks, the figure, the charisma but was overlooked perhaps because of the rivalry among the teens and a biased judge. It was the first time she had experienced failure and disappointment. Her Dad sat with her on her bed, dried her eyes and told her that things didn’t always work out according to our plans, that there will be other disappointments, and besides all the cheerleader uniforms were stretched out from the previous year and wouldn’t fit her properly. Lori giggled and said, “Thank you, Daddy.”

Whenever Lori went to the store, she asked for small change so that she could deposit the coins in a canister for animals in need. One day she found a stray kitten, stuffed it into her blouse, and brought it home. Her father was furious and said she could not keep it. She enlisted the aid of her Aunt Rosie to plead with him to “just get over it,” and he relented. Previous critters that had come into her care didn’t fare well—a fish and hamster succumbed to “natural causes;” but this cat lived for twenty years—it outlived her. Her Dad relates: After Lori passed the cat adopted me. I would come home from work and lie on the couch. “Mittens” would jump up onto my chest, recline within millimeters of my chin and purr. My daughter was gone, but the cat I didn’t want was there to comfort me.

Making varsity soccer was a boost to her morale, and driving to and from the games provided an opportunity for heart to heart, father-daughter discussions. Lori was level headed and knew exactly what she wanted to do after graduation—attend the Fashion Institute in NYC. She had a job after school in a large department store which she enjoyed, and it gave her spending money for clothes and other necessities. She also had an eye for fashion and always dressed in the latest style; that and her shopping expertise and department store experience were sure to make her a success in haute couture.

Lori and her Dad shopped for a car in the local paper and found a six-year old, ’82 Honda with low mileage and in good condition. It was a four door sedan with a five speed shift. Lori wanted to get an edge on her brother who drove an automatic. There had always been a strong but loving sibling rivalry between them. With a license and her own car Lori could drive herself to school and her job. She was on cloud nine and would eagerly volunteer to run errands to prove her competence behind the wheel.

One weekend in late October, Lori wanted to drive to Rutgers to visit her brother, a distance of 45 miles from Toms River on a major highway. Her parents said she was not yet experienced enough and told her to find something to do locally with her friends instead. An obedient daughter, she made arrangements to attend a Halloween Scavenger Hunt sponsored by her high school and then stay overnight with a friend. Lori kissed her parents and bounded out the door with a “See ya.” She died that night on a local road when her friend who was driving swerved to avoid an oncoming vehicle. Her dad laments: We never saw her again. No good-byes. No we love you’s. Just emptiness.

Lori had a boyfriend, Mike. He was in her class and wrestled on the school varsity team. He was quite good, and Lori kept a scrapbook of the newspaper clippings featuring his accomplishments. He took the tragedy to heart and felt that if she had been with him on that fateful night, she would not have died. Friend and father shared a common grief and guilt and tried to console one another.

In Lori’s memory, her parents established the Lori Long Memorial Scholarship Fund at Bishop Donovan High School and each year attend the school’s Awards Night to make a presentation to a graduating varsity soccer player who meets the required criteria. Along with the award comes a booklet of poems and remembrances written by students and staff in Lori’s memory.  A young lady who had been a teammate of Lori’s is now the head coach at the school. She donates the receipts from the first home game of the season to the fund and invites Lori’s mom and dad onto the field at half time to meet the team and encourage the players. They usually end their pep talk with, “Do it for Lori!”

*