Surrounded by wildflower fields near the edge of a rocky cliff on the island of Belle-脦le -en-Mer, France, Jamie Nicole Burrows stares out to sea. All summer, she has been taking these hikes. They鈥檝e helped the Carnegie Mellon voice major decompress after training at the Lyrique-en-Mer opera festival with some of the world鈥檚 greatest singers. The hikes have also given her an interlude before her upcoming senior year. What鈥檚 in store for her might intimidate a burly bari-tenor, let alone this 98-pound, five-foot-one soprano.
Before her May 2012 graduation, she and 190 of her classmates will perform on April 2 at what many consider the mecca for musicians: New York City鈥檚 . The concert is a celebration of the and will reprise a March 31 celebratory concert at Pittsburgh鈥檚 Benedum Center. In addition to the students performing, alumni young and old, with more than a few Grammy and Tony winners among them, will take the stage. Burrows has this to look forward to while trying to maintain her 3.9 GPA and fulfill her senior recital. And figure out what to do after graduation. Gulp.
No matter how stressful the upcoming school year becomes, Burrows reassures herself during her ocean-side walks that she can handle whatever happens because of her best friend, Lauren Nicole Eshbaugh.
It鈥檚 a warm afternoon during the first day of Carnegie Mellon鈥檚 August 2008 freshmen orientation week. In between the scheduled activities, Burrows, a doe-eyed freshman, watches from a campus bench as hoards of classmates she has yet to meet pass by. Her parents are traveling back home to Tucson, Ariz., about 2,000 miles away. Although Burrows doesn鈥檛 know anyone, she already feels at home. Suddenly, her thoughts of tranquility are interrupted.
鈥淗颈!鈥�
Burrows looks up. A modelesque blonde, wearing a flowing dress and perhaps too much blush, towers above her. 鈥淚鈥檓 Lauren.鈥� Burrows recognizes her from orientation activities. They get acquainted, and when they realize they have more in common than they can share from a campus bench, they head to Eshbaugh鈥檚 dorm room.
In addition to their identical middle names, they both have an insatiable appetite for performance training, a deep love of music, and a shared history in youth choirs. Neither can wait for their next four years of studies at the , widely praised for its conservatory training, dual emphasis on academics and performance, and tradition of graduating legendary musicians. The school鈥檚 vocal alumni roll-call is rife with Metropolitan Opera and Broadway singers. And the list of non-vocal majors is just as notable, including composers of Hollywood films and television shows, professors in the best music schools in the country (including Carnegie Mellon), and principal instrumentalists and conductors in renowned orchestras around the world.
As for Burrows and Eshbaugh, it鈥檚 as if they will step into the shoes of past success stories. With her red mane and fair complexion, Burrows could be mistaken for soprano Christiane Noll (A鈥�90), star of several award-winning Broadway musicals, including Jekyll & Hyde, Urinetown, and the most recent revival of Ragtime. Eshbaugh has her own alumna doppelganger in mezzo-soprano Heidi Skok (A鈥�90), whose statuesque presence adorned Metropolitan Opera鈥檚 stage for more than a decade.
Right now, though, they鈥檙e just incoming freshmen with big lungs and a lot to learn about music, life, and each other. Burrows is soft-spoken鈥攁 self-described 鈥渕usic nerd鈥� who mostly keeps to herself; Eshbaugh is gregarious, immune to intimidation, and addicted to adventure. Soon, they鈥檙e inseparable.
Although Burrows is a stranger to Pittsburgh, Eshbaugh knows her way around, having been raised in Indiana, Pa., just 60 miles from Pittsburgh. So, for the first few weeks of the semester, Eshbaugh plays tour guide. From the symphony to diners, no Pittsburgh staple is out of their reach. Sometimes, when Burrows is too tired to make the walk to her off-campus dorm, she has a sleepover in Eshbaugh鈥檚 Donner House room, where the two philosophize until their eyes close.
In October, they begin working in the costume department for an upcoming music school production. One night, while climbing the stairs to the costume shop, Eshbaugh stops at the second-floor landing.
鈥淎re you OK?鈥� Burrows asks.
Eshbaugh says she feels queasy, but they press forward. At the next floor, Eshbaugh says she has to throw up. Burrows snatches a trash can. It鈥檚 not the first time in the past few weeks that Eshbaugh has been ill. First, her back hurt. Then, she had leg spasms. Now, she鈥檚 throwing up. They both agree she should go to the student clinic. They walk there, but it鈥檚 closed. What to do? Perhaps Eshbaugh should go the hospital and get checked out, just to be safe. Burrows calls campus police from her cell phone, and a few minutes later, they鈥檙e on their way to the hospital in the back of a campus squad car.
The hospital staff administers preliminary tests, and Eshbaugh calls her parents, who are concerned enough to get in their car and make the hour drive to Pittsburgh. Through it all, Eshbaugh doesn鈥檛 lose her sense of humor. She walks up to the registration nurse and asks if she could ensure her attending physician is male. And cute. Burrows blushes. When Eshbaugh鈥檚 parents arrive, they thank Burrows for staying with their daughter, and Eshbaugh鈥檚 father gives her a ride to her dorm.
Back at the hospital, doctors press on Eshbaugh鈥檚 abdomen. She winces. Maybe it鈥檚 her gallbladder? More tests. When the bloodwork results come, the healthcare team is troubled. Perhaps the tests are wrong. They run them again. At 7 am the next morning, an oncologist steps into Eshbaugh鈥檚 room. 鈥淭here鈥檚 only one explanation for blood platelets to be that low and calcium to be that high,鈥� he says. 鈥淪omething is growing, and it鈥檚 growing rapidly.鈥� 鈥淟ike a tumor?鈥� Eshbaugh asks. Like a tumor.
In class, Burrows doesn鈥檛 see her friend. She鈥檚 worried. Eshbaugh never misses a class. After a few days of small-talk texting back and forth, Burrows and some other music majors decide to visit Eshbaugh in the hospital. When they arrive, Eshbaugh knows her friends are wondering what鈥檚 wrong. Tears stream down her cheeks as she tells them that she鈥檚 taking a medical leave from school. She has cancer. It鈥檚 called rhabdomyosarcoma鈥攁 rare, aggressive cancer of the connective tissues. It will require up to 11 months of chemotherapy, and blood transfusions. Hopefully, she鈥檒l be in remission then and can resume her studies.
The students hug Eshbaugh, the last time they鈥檒l be able to do so for a while. Once she starts chemo, her immune system will be compromised. A hug or a handshake might have serious ramifications. So, the next day, Burrows buys pink and purple embroidery floss at the University Center art store and twists them together into a friendship bracelet. During her next visit, she ties it around Eshbaugh鈥檚 wrist. 鈥淓ven if I can鈥檛 touch you,鈥� Burrows tells her, 鈥淚 can always hold your hand.鈥�
Eshbaugh begins her monthly treatment regimen: 48 hours of chemotherapy, followed three weeks later by another five days of eight-hour chemotherapy sessions. After every chemo cycle, Eshbaugh receives a blood transfusion. She usually gets a fever, too, which forces her to stay in her hospital room. She can鈥檛 receive visitors for days. Then the cycle begins again. Chemotherapy, blood transfusions.
Despite the grueling routine, the best friends work out a schedule of their own. Burrows visits Eshbaugh once a week; they keep in touch via cell phone and Internet video-calls when Eshbaugh is in Indiana; and, once a month, if Eshbaugh feels well enough, they venture to the symphony or opera.
The chemo robs Eshbaugh of her hair and her eyebrows, but she doesn鈥檛 let it steal her beauty鈥攅specially when she goes out with Burrows. On those nights, Eshbaugh always dons a bright red wig and colors in eyebrows to match, so that the two can take on the town as鈥攊n Eshbaugh鈥檚 words鈥斺�渢wo hot red gingers.鈥� And though she can鈥檛 sing because the chemotherapy affected her vocal cords, Eshbaugh attends the weekly voice seminar class when she can, where she can hear undergraduate, graduate, and artist diploma voice majors perform.
A few weeks before classes start in fall 2009, Burrows gets a phone call. It鈥檚 Eshbaugh. Her doctors gave her the all-clear. Her cancer is in remission. Eshbaugh is back!
The best friends return to their old ways鈥攖he Zebra-Lounge lunches, the inside jokes, the Cheesecake Factory dinners. They鈥檙e in different classes now because Eshbaugh is still a freshman. But Eshbaugh is just happy to be training again, and Burrows couldn鈥檛 be happier to have her friend back.
Fittingly, in mid-October, Eshbaugh makes plans to walk the cancer survivors鈥� lap in conjunction with the campus鈥� 鈥�,鈥� an overnight relay used to raise money for the . Not feeling great that night, she has to walk slowly; later her legs begin to swell and hurt, driving her to tears. The next day her doctors perform MRIs and CT scans. They discover that cancerous tumors in her brain and spine are impeding her mobility, causing her legs to stiffen. And they鈥檙e growing.
She鈥檒l have to start radiation immediately, followed by chemotherapy and blood transfusions. Because living in the dorms is too risky, she鈥檒l have to make the daily 120-mile round-trip journey from her Indiana home. This time, though, Eshbaugh鈥檚 not leaving school. 鈥淚f I have to go to Pittsburgh every day,鈥� she tells her mother, 鈥淚鈥檓 going to class. I am not鈥擨 am NOT鈥攕taying home.鈥�
For the next six months, in addition to the commute, Eshbaugh balances radiation, chemotherapy, and blood transfusions with studying, private voice lessons, and nights out with her friends.
By April, the juggling gets harder. Eshbaugh begins losing the ability to walk鈥攆orced to use a walker, then a wheelchair. As her tumors grow and her health deteriorates, the School of Music students and faculty rally around her. No one would ever question the school鈥檚 academic prowess; now, no one would question its heart. Her classmates make sure that whenever Eshbaugh arrives on campus, someone is there to meet her and push her to class; usually it鈥檚 Burrows. And, in early April, the school throws a benefit concert in her honor.
As the academic year nears the end, Eshbaugh pushes on with her schooling despite being so weak that she sometimes falls asleep while taking notes. One of her professors, Natalie Ozeas, tells her: 鈥淟auren, your grades are so good, you鈥檙e going to get an A in this class whether you take the final or not.鈥� Eshbaugh鈥檚 reply? 鈥淚鈥檓 going to take the final.鈥�
But just a few days after that vow, Eshbaugh enters hospice care. On a Sunday afternoon in early May, music professors Laura Knoop Very and Stephen Totter visit Eshbaugh in Indiana to deliver a book of handwritten letters from Eshbaugh鈥檚 schoolmates. Her parents, at her bedside, choke back tears as they read them to her.
On Tuesday, May 4, 2010鈥攋ust days shy of her twentieth birthday鈥擫auren Nicole Eshbaugh loses her battle with cancer.
Three nights later, Burrows and a group of music students 鈥渢ake鈥� the Fence in memory of their friend. They blast music, sing, dance, and cover the Fence from top to bottom in bright red paint, drawing the letters L-A-U-R-E-N on the posts. For the final touch, they inscribe 鈥淐hoose to Be Happy,鈥� Eshbaugh鈥檚 mantra, on the middle railing. The next morning, along with dozens of other sleep-deprived music majors, Burrows boards the university-organized bus that will carry them to Eshbaugh鈥檚 funeral. She sits alone for the 60-minute ride.
Recordings of Eshbaugh singing fill the church. A bouquet of pink roses adorns her casket. Her professor, Knoop Very, sings. Doves are released at the cemetery. After the service, Eshbaugh鈥檚 parents hug Burrows. 鈥淪he never took the bracelet off,鈥� Eshbaugh鈥檚 mother tells her. 鈥淪he鈥檚 buried with it.鈥�
Burrows, grieving when she arrives in Tucson for summer break, volunteers in the oncology ward of a local hospital for the American Cancer Society. She shares information with cancer patients about resources available to them, coping methods, and, of course, Eshbaugh鈥檚 story鈥攈ow her best friend never stopped fighting. Never. Volunteering helps Burrows grieve, but returning to Carnegie Mellon in fall 2010 for her junior year is hard. Some classmates are further along in the grieving process. She considers taking a leave of absence. But then she thinks about her friend who never gave up. She won鈥檛 either.
Throwing herself into extracurricular activities, she becomes the events chair for the Carnegie Mellon 鈥淩elay for Life鈥� and soon discovers she鈥檚 a natural at it. They need someone to sing the national anthem. She knows just who to call. Bagpipes? Got it. 鈥淚 ended up asking all my friends to perform,鈥� she says. 鈥淎nd since so many musicians and performers were so close to Lauren, they were all very happy to come and be a part of it.鈥� She even joins in, singing 鈥淎mazing Grace鈥� in four-part harmony with three classmates.
In the spring, Burrows performs with the Pittsburgh Pops All-Star College Chorus conducted by Grammy, Tony, Emmy, and Oscar winner Marvin Hamlisch. She also heads a new College of Fine Arts fundraiser: 鈥淢r. Beaux Arts,鈥� a lighthearted version of a male beauty pageant. She does this while preparing for her junior recital, her most important performance yet. She saves the last line in her recital dedication page for the person who couldn鈥檛 make it: To my Lauren鈥擨 truly have an angel with me tonight. Miss you every day, girlfriend.
At the end-of-year School of Music awards ceremony, the faculty announces the establishment of the Lauren Eshbaugh Memorial Award, created to honor music students who embody the qualities of Eshbaugh: academic achievement, musicianship, kindness, and support among musicians. The junior class inaugural winner鈥擩amie Burrows.
After the ceremony, she hugs Eshbaugh鈥檚 parents, whom she hasn鈥檛 seen since the funeral. They ask her what she plans to do with the award money. She says it will help pay for her summer plans鈥攁 seven-week professional program in France, where she鈥檒l sing alongside opera legends and gain her first professional opera credits. The award鈥檚 timing is divinely serendipitous: she鈥檇 otherwise be unable to afford the trip.
Now back in Pittsburgh for her senior year, Burrows鈥� walks have changed from French cliff-side hikes to strolls through nearby Schenley Park. Unlike the naive freshman on that campus bench four years ago, Burrows says she鈥檚 now prepared to handle whatever the future holds. That includes being among the performers for the upcoming Benedum Center and Carnegie Hall celebration concerts for the School of Music鈥檚 Centennial Anniversary.
After she graduates in May, she鈥檚 not sure what鈥檚 next. Because of her tiny size, she鈥檒l probably get cast as a child for some time. But the young woman within is now anything but small. She knows that on one staircase step, everything can change. But always, she can choose to be happy.
Learn more about the School of Music Centennial Celebration: music.cmu.edu/centennial
Nicholas Ducassi (A鈥�10), an actor, writer, and filmmaker, is a regular contributor to this magazine.
