Lexi Rudnitsky, Class of 1991, Poet On January 17, 2005, Lexi Rudnitsky, Class of 1991, died suddenly of cardiac arrest. It is with such sadness and continued disbelief that we find ourselves writing a remembrance of Lexi Rudnitsky. We are 15 years out of high school, but it was at Milton where we first met Lexi and embarked upon a friendship that lasted. It was 1987, our freshman year. It all began, as mornings did for many of us day students at Milton, with the bus ride. In fact, anyone who rode the Needham-Wellesley bus route during those years would remember her. Some people just stand out in this world. Lexi was often late, desperately flagging down the bus, only to come barreling on, a whirl of long hair, a tie-dyed T-shirt, a tea-filled travel mug and that leather bomber jacket she stole from her father. By the time we hit the highway, Lexi would either have us caught up in laughter or a raucous debate with the boys in the back. Lexi was both an integral and defiant member of our class— both at its center and pushing past its edges. She organized recycling campaigns and launched feminist critiques in history class. She went on to start Students for Sexual
Equality and to co-lead Lorax. She played varsity soccer, ice hockey and lacrosse, running circles around us on and off the sports fields. She wrote provocative poems for the Magus-Mabus and pleaded with us to reduce waste at the dining hall. Much of what she was fighting for or writing about was over our heads at the time, and as a result she could be met with confusion, resistance and fear by students and faculty alike. Even in the depths of adolescent self-consciousness, Lexi had the astonishing ability to inspire the silly and spontaneous. She corralled the girls together at parties for Salt-n-Pepa sing-a-longs (“I’m not a man, but I’m in command. Hot damn! I got an all girl band.”); she organized us to workshop poems outside of the classroom; she wrote plays about us and for us; she pilfered the library for obscure playwrights to perform readings in our spare time; she always gave gifts of (used) books. To us, Lexi was a friend of firsts—our first radical, environmentalist, feminist, poet— the first to be unabashedly and unapologetically herself. Imagine the gift of her friendship at such a confusing and awkward
time. That spirit of solidarity, adventure and integrity never left her or her friendships. Eighteen years after meeting Lexi, we were as close and connected to her as we were as teenagers. These were not friendships reserved for adolescence—our friendships grew and deepened as we evolved into grownups. And she continued to set the bar, with what was one of her most important contributions: she gave birth to Samuel —the first to become a mother. This proved to be one of her most brilliant and fulfilling accomplishments. Lexi and her husband, Sandro, shared their love for one another with their son, born on October 13, 2004. And unlike some of us who engaged in adolescent, confessional poetry in high school only to leave it behind, Lexi’s work at Milton laid the groundwork for becoming a published poet and scholar, remaining an activist in the often stifling world of academia. Just one month after the birth of Samuel, and two months before her own death, Lexi received the news that her manuscript had been accepted for publication. Her first book of poetry, A Doorless Knocking Into Night, will be published next year. With Lexi, the inimitable combination of soft and fierce ways was always a magnet for others, a call to friendship and action. Much of what we care about in our lives today comes from seeds Lexi planted. It is the lucky clan that has among its members the daring friend. Lexi is ours.
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Milton Magazine