North by Northwestern

Aaron Morse, Medill senior

Corrie and I both came to Northwestern from Seattle. She transferred here after one year at Western Washington University. We went to different high schools, but I knew her through my friend Alex Golshan. I went to her house a few times in high school for parties, but I didn’t know her all that well.

Only after she came to Northwestern my sophomore year did I really get to know Corrie. You’ll hear this from everyone, but she was the nicest person you could ever hope to meet. I’d be walking down the street, going to class,and I’d run in to her, and we’d talk for a bit, and no matter what, after we were done talking, I’d always have a smile on my face. She was that type of person. She’d brighten up your day just with her infectious enthusiasm for life.

Corrie and I lived on opposite ends of campus, but we had one thing in common — we both stayed up really late at night. We’d always both be on Facebook chat at like 4 a.m. on a weekday, and we’d talk about everything that was happening at Northwestern and in our lives. I guess it’s a sign of the times that we talked more often on Facebook chat then we did in person.

Corrie would always go out of her way to help out her friends. Anyone who met her could tell you that she wasn’t very tall or really into sports at all (though she was a cheerleader in high school). But one day, I needed one more girl for my co-rec football team or else we’d have to forfeit, so I called up Corrie and she said, “Sure, that sounds like fun!” On the first play from scrimmage, she caught a pass and started to run, only to see a bunch of players running at her. She screamed and threw the ball as hard as she could at one of her teammates, hitting him in the head! It was absolutely hilarious and we joked about it for months. It’s a funny story, but it also shows how Corrie would always be there for her friends, even if it was something she was not familiar with at all.

When I think of Corrie, I think of how she did more in her 21 years then a lot of people will do in their lifetimes. She touched so many lives, both in Seattle and at Northwestern. She will be dearly missed by all.

Beckie Otto, Communication senior

When Corrie and I transferred to Northwestern in Fall 2007, I don’t think either of us thought we’d meet a friend as true as the other, despite our deepest hopes. We fell into adventure, laughter and countless memories together from the start, and it became very clear very quickly that Corrie was someone special. Her bright eyes, big heart and unending zeal for life never ceased to amaze me, and she helped spin my NU experience into a time of precious gold.

In two short years, Corrie positioned herself as a mover and shaker at Northwestern. Her brilliant mind and beautiful soul were just the tip of the endless iceberg that were her talents, hopes and passion for helping others. Corrie was always and forever incredibly humble about her spectacular skills. I remember her running lines for Mock Trial tryouts for a good hour in my room last fall, thinking that there was no way she could make it. Well, she did. And she shined, on Mock Trial and in everything she did. From working at a camp together last summer and seeing her filled with absolute glee at caring for the children, to being Community Assistants in Foster-Walker Complex during our junior year and witnessing her impressive devotion to residents, I saw that Corrie radiated such sincerity, kindness and love that others could only hope to attain.

This saying reminds me so much of Corrie:

Remember be humble, you are made of earth.
Remember be noble, you are made of stars. – unknown

I miss Cor’s humility, selflessness, humor and hugs, but her stars are shining so very bright. And they forever will. We love you, Corrie.

Aubrey Blanche, Medill junior

To say I was Corrie’s best friend would be a lie, and an insult to people who knew her better than I did. But I did know her, and spent a year living across the hall from her on the third floor of the Kappa Delta sorority house. To sum up Corrie in a few short words is difficult: How can you sum up a life into something so small? But if I had to pick one thing in which to remember her by, it would be her book on constitutional law.

While the object in itself is inarguably dull and hardly worth noting, my interactions with Corrie over this book are the reason I feel it represents her so well. She used to leave the book, used for her American Studies seminar, on the table in the lounge where we studied. At first I thought it was just another of the various old volumes lying around the house, but one day I came out to study and found her reading it. After getting over my shock at her reading such a boring-looking book, Corrie explained to me why she found a book that probably weighed about as much as she did so fascinating.

“It’s really exciting, seeing that nothing’s really changed since it was written, but that really everything’s changed around it,” she said. “I feel like I really get America better now. Isn’t that awesome?”

Basically, she was excited about constitutional law. Anyone who knew her wouldn’t be surprised, as she spent the majority of her time practicing with or competing for the Mock Trial team. But that kind of enthusiasm for the things she cared about is what that book represents. Every week in chapter, she would update us on the newest success of Mock Trial, and she did it every time with the barely contained elation of a small child.

So while I can’t say that I know everything about Corrie, or was as close to her as I probably could have or should have been, I know that I saw her enthusiasm, and that is what I take from her memory. It’s what we should all take from her memory. She was excited about everything in her life, and I know she’d want us to be excited about everything in ours.

Josh Levin, Weinberg sophomore

“Just be emphatic and smile…that’s all you have to do.” Those were Corrie’s words. Words that most of us, who were on the Mock Trial team with Corrie, came to know as one of Corrie’s signature pieces of advice.

For those of you who may not know, Mock Trial is quite a competitive activity, and during the short recesses in the middle of trials, our team huddles were usually filled with frantic legalese about relevance objections, expert witnesses or the judge’s unfair ruling on a piece of prejudicial evidence. But amidst all our clamor, Corrie — who made the team as a junior, without any previous Mock Trial experience — would jump in there and say over and over again, in her cheery little voice, and say, “Just be emphatic and smile. Then the judges will love you, and you’ll be set!”

Some of us on the team would give Corrie a hard time. “Oh, it’s not that simple. Don’t be so naïve,” we’d say, halfway ignoring her comments, or at least reducing them to simple Corrie cuteness.

I never thought that those words, which just months ago seemed all too simple, would now be fraught with such profound meaning. Months ago we may have dismissed her words all too easily, yet now, with terrible sadness, in Corrie’s death, her words gain new life.

I knew Corrie for only one school year, but she was the kind of person who needs only one minute to make a lasting and unforgettable impression. Within that school year, I watched her portray Mock Trial witnesses ranging from flirty photojournalists to nerdy librarians. And I saw countless judges wooed by her sweet little voice. While certainly witty and clever, what’s etched into my memory are not the words she spoke, but her delicate voice that it drew you in to listen ever closer, and her mannerisms each more exuberant than the last. She had an uncanny way of making anything and everything into a piece of something precious.

Within that school year we took classes together, went out on the weekends together, stayed up late reading about racial issues in the U.S. or life in the antebellum South, two topics we both happened to find fascinating. Within that school year, she convinced me to apply for the American Studies program, because when she spoke about American Studies, her eyes would light up and her voice would get especially perky and bright. Her passion for what she was studying was something I haven’t seen in many college students, and for me her passion was contagious.

One night she ended up sitting in my room spending hours reading the endless assignment for an African American Studies class of mine that she wasn’t even yet enrolled in. She hadn’t even received permission to register, and yet she was driven to spend her night going through the readings so that if she were to get permission — and she eventually did — she wouldn’t be too far behind. “Corrie,” I said, “you’re crazy. You should be worrying about the classes you’re actually enrolled in!” But to Corrie, doing that reading so late that night — and doing her work as she so often did extremely late every night — wasn’t crazy. It was a result of the learning she loved to do and the many ways in which she committed herself to so many causes, organizations and individuals.

Corrie once explained to me that she prioritized her time as follows: First, she would finish everything that concerns other people. And for Corrie, this didn’t just mean occasionally helping out a friend. It meant going far beyond the expectations of a CA, making ornate holiday door decorations for her residents, or planning events and trips for her residents to enjoy. It meant orchestrating elaborate gifts for her Kappa Delta “little sis”. It meant advising fellow transfer students. It meant practicing as a witness with her Mock Trial attorney. The list goes on and on. Only then, Corrie told me, “do I work on my school work, or on the things which affect only myself. If it only affects me, I’ll get it done sometime, but it has to come last.”

That was how Corrie lived her life. She lived to brighten people’s days with ridiculous door decorations, bubbly witness personalities, and of course, with her unceasingly positive outlook on life. With everything she did — and most of all in her relationships with those she loved — she was emphatic. And she never stopped smiling. I know for myself and for all of us, her life is a blessing, and her memory will always be an inspiration to live life as she did “just be emphatic and smile.”