We’ve dedicated this little slice of the internet as a place to share photos and stories about Bridget O’Brien, who we lost unexpectedly and tragically on the morning of Thursday, Oct. 18.
Bridget and her husband, Hayden Sweeney, died in a car crash outside of Cleveland, Ohio.
A service for Bridget and Hayden will be held at 10 a.m. on Monday, Oct. 29 at Mt. Vernon Mortuary, 8201 Greenback Ln., Fair Oaks. Visitation will be Sunday Oct. 28 from 12 noon to 4 pm., also at Mt. Vernon.
In lieu of flowers, the family would like donations to be made to the “Bridget O’Brien Daily Bruin Scholarship Fund”. They can think of no better way to honor Bridget than to help encourage others to discover and further their passion in journalism and photojournalism in her name. Checks can be sent to the address below or donated online at www.rememberingbridget.com
“Bridget O’Brien Daily Bruin Scholarship Fund”
c/o UCLA Daily Bruin
118 Kerckhoff Hall
308 Westwood Plaza
Los Angeles, CA 90024
109 Comments
I loved Bridget’s last quarter at UCLA where she slept on couches and (sometimes) in her truck.
We are fortunate Tyson Evans still had the following email she sent after that quarter. It says so much about who she was - the whole apartment hopping concept, her upcoming travels after graduation… One thing I loved so much about her, as she put it, was her lack of being a “conformist”.
_________________
I knew Bridget better in class than at the Bruin. We wrote a paper (on BruinGo) together during that quarter before she left, in a geography class we took because we had a shared interest in cities and traffic. My clearest memory with her was a day-long bus trip around the city that took us to the port, a mixed-use development on the red line, and the Alameda corridor. It’s often so difficult to find people with whom we can share those odd little things - and Bridget was so good at doing that for so many people.
The first time I remember meeting Bridget was during the summer of 2000, after I joined the Daily Bruin staff and was working for the Viewpoint section. We didn’t have enough op-ed submissions or letters to publish, so we resorted to a “Speaks Out,” section, which, for those of you unfamiliar with The Bruin, is basically a box with pictures of, and quotes from, students responding to a question on a pressing campus issue. Bridget, of course, was the photographer. My “pressing campus issue”: the importance of genetically engineered vegetables or something of that nature, I think. I don’t remember the question so much as the fact that Bridget gave me one of her patented “that-sounds-so-stupid-but-let’s-get-this-over-with” looks that would become so familiar to me during our Daily Bruin years. Her eyebrows would sink slightly, she would stop blinking, and then briefly stare at you right in the eye – not for too long, but just long enough to concretely make her point. There was no point in trying to rebut the look, since she was always right.
Perhaps among my favorite memories, though, is the time she helped me move a couch across Manhattan in her little brown truck. I saw the couch on craigslist and told Bridget about it – after some initial skepticism, she agreed to help me retrieve it. Relying on my solid journalistic instinct, I took the couch owner’s driving instructions at face value and did not ask how big the couch was to see if it would fit in the truck (it didn’t), through my apartment door (it didn’t, until we broke off a piece of the leg), or in my living room (it barely did). It was only until I got there I found out I would have to carry it down several flights of stairs with Bridget, since the building had no elevator. You might have guessed by now that the driving instructions given to me by the clueless couch owner included several instances where we were instructed to turn the opposite way on one-way streets. Bridget, though, remained patient – until we turned onto the street where the apartment allegedly was, were blocked in by a garbage truck, and then found out (after calling the girl telling her we didn’t see her apartment) that she had given us the wrong address. Yes, that is when our beloved Bridget cursed the clueless Manhattanite with a seemingly innate talent that only ages of Irish oppression could have refined. Eventually, though, we got to the woman’s house. Bridget figured out how to tie the couch inside the truck so that it would dangle out, but didn’t fall, and we made it back home. I think few people would have put up with that madness and still talked to me afterward, but Bridget was that sort of patient, chill, loving person.
An obituary ran in today’s Sacramento Bee:
Published in the Sacramento Bee on 10/20/2007.
Even though Bridge worked on the copy desk with me for a year, I think I spoke with her more on the baseball diamond when we both played on the Daily Bruin intramural softball team. It was usually just the two of us girls and the teams we played were never actually “co-ed.” I remember one game, when Bridge went to the plate for the first time.
“Girl batter, move up, move up,” someone in the outfield yelled, and everyone took about ten giant steps forward. Well, Bridge hit the first pitch way over their heads. They had barely gotten the ball back by the time she rounded home.
I went to graduate school with Cuauhtemoc, who had the sense to introduce Bridget to our small circle of friends during our first year. It took five, maybe ten minutes for me to decide that I loved her. She showed up to Cuauhtemoc’s birthday party–70+ first-year law students crammed into a tiny NYC apartment; even Steve Irwin wouldn’t have ventured into such dangerous waters–and took in the scene (and the tequila) without batting an eye. The rest of the night carried on in the same fashion, culminating in a Sunday brunch that was full of comical adventures as only Bridget would be able to recount them.
That was her way, I came to learn. She struck this wonderful balance between intelligence, fearlessness, and irreverence that not only produced amazing exploits and stories, but made her (easily) one of the most interesting people I’d have had the pleasure of knowing. I will miss her unexpected visits to town (”Bridget is in Manhattan for 14 hours”) and learning of her whereabouts.
Every time she made it to our side of town, merriment (and hilarity) was pretty much guaranteed to ensue. Though we weren’t classmates, I can’t separate Bridget from the small group that helped keep me from losing my mind during grad school.
I knew Bridget in a different way than those of you who’ve posted so far. She was my student. But given that I was not too much older than her at the time I knew her, I always thought of her more as a little sister. And even though she had traveled far from Westwood in these recent years, she had remained in my thoughts.
I first met Bridget before I had become adviser to Student Media at UCLA. I was teaching copy editing and design workshops for Daily Bruin students on weekends, and Bridget was a student in my copy editing workshop. I was really impressed by this because Bridget was a photographer, and in my day at the Daily Bruin, other sections gave copy very little respect or attention, let alone would someone from another section have submitted herself to 16 hours of copy editing training on Saturday mornings just to learn more about the topic.
The next year, I came to UCLA full-time to advise the Daily Bruin and other media, and my realtionship with Bridget grew. That first year, I remember Bridget with a long, pretty braid. She would come into my office often to talk to me about her aspirations. And just recounting that fact makes me so emotional now. I remember giving her the same advice I gave other students like her, which was to shoot for the moon, not to be intimidated by the reputations of big newspapers or the seeming impossibility of getting this or that internship. Bridget went so beyond the moon – it’s inspiring to me. And her story of success in following her dreams has been one I’ve recounted to students over the years to help inspire them, too.
I feel so incredibly fortunate to have been a part of her life at the time when she was growing from a braid-wearing girl into a confident and passionate young woman and deciding what path she was going to pursue. I will continue to share her story with all of those students, like her, who come into my office to ask me questions about their future, and in this way (and in so many others that all of you will engage in) Bridget will continue to live and inspire so many other young people.
I still have a recommendation I wrote for Bridget when she was applying for an internship at the Washington Post. Below are some excerpts from that letter:
“… (Bridget) has impressed me as a versatile, open-minded and conscientious student journalist who shows a genuine interest in the news and a commitment to broadening her experience.
I first met Bridget before I was adviser, when I was teaching copy editing workshops on the weekends for UCLA Student Media. Bridget was The Bruin’s photo editor at the time, but had decided to take the copy editing class to gain some newsroom perspective. I was immediately impressed by Bridget’s willingness to devote 16 hours of her time to an unrequired, unpaid, not-for-credit workshop, and was even more impressed by the appreciation she expressed for copy editing and sincerity with which she approached learning. Such a bold show of support from the newsroom was not something the Daily Bruin copy desk was accustomed to. I think in this way, Bridget was an early pioneer in The Bruin’s newsroom, opening doors between departments and encouraging communication and collaboration.
Now, as the adviser to The Bruin, I have grown in my appreciation and admiration for Bridget as a person, photographer and copy editor. Bridget is truly a well-rounded journalist, having solid experience in both photography and copy editing. After her year as photo editor, Bridget has done double duty as a photographer and copy editor, proving her ability to juggle multiple tasks and work with both words and images. Bridget’s photos are award-winning. She has a kind, gentle spirit that I think helps photo subjects to trust her and enables her to quietly observe and capture honest moments. …
Bridget succeeds wherever she applies herself and is an ambassador of good will at the Daily Bruin. …”
Please know that my thoughts and prayers are with all of you who have lost a friend, daughter, sister, granddaughter, daughter-in-law. I am mourning with you. So many people loved Bridget, and that is really testament to the love she gave.
Bridget packed more in 26 years than most people do in a lifetime, and that’s what I’ll remember about her most. She was seemingly always on the go, seeing new places and taking on new projects that would make most people wonder how she could pull it all off; but Bridget was the type of person where if she wasn’t keeping 10 or 12 plates spinning at the same time, she was practically idle.
She also had great insight into what people were about. I appreciated that because as a cocky young frosh at the Daily Bruin, I spent a lot of my time offending most of the female staff with suggestive banter, and she was one of a handful of people who didn’t turn away in disgust but essentially saw a harmless kid trying too hard to be liked. Her subtle assurance helped me shed a lot of bravado, and the occasional eye roll coupled with a playfully pained-sounding “Rob …” was all the reminder I needed to stay within myself.
When it came to The Bruin, her photos and other work spoke for itself. But I think a true testament to her time there was the Most Valuable Staff Member award she received at the conclusion of the 2001-02 year. It was an obvious choice then, but now, after several years have gone by, I realize more and more how much she was the glue that kept that staff together during what was a tumultuous year. She did it out of love for what The Bruin represented, and even more out of love for all the people who had spent so many days, nights and missed classes in the trenches with her trying to put out the paper.
Bridget was also one of the best journalists, photo- or otherwise, I’ve ever known. A lot of reporters incorrectly see photographers as accessories to getting the story, when a good amount of the time they’re the ones actually getting the story. Again when I was a frosh, she set me straight on this point more than a few times, and after I quickly determined that she was much, much smarter than me, I stopped arguing and began to really admire and appreciate the way she went about her work.
She had a full-bodied laugh that was unmistakably hers. And in routinely ordering white rice with a packet of soy sauce, she found what was arguably the one healthy choice at the Panda Express in Ackerman Union.
I would just like to add humility to the list of remarkable characteristics.
One time, I was chatting with another photog about some of the battles I had waged with staffers in my time as managing editor. I observed that I was not one of those people that everyone liked, unlike say, Bridget (who was sitting nearby).
She argued vehemently with me, that she was the type of person that everyone liked. But she was, whether she was willing to concede as much or not. Like I said, humility.
I remember the first time I met Bridget. One of those DB wild nights at Rob and Kelly’s Kelton apartment after Bridget had just returned from one of her world adventures. I had a teeny bit much to drink and I remember Bridget taking care of this inexperienced bruin newbie whom she didn’t even know all night long. It was a little thing, but I’ve never forgotten it.
Too hard to come up with adjectives to describe Bridget. They all fall short. I’m sticking with the memories, like the group weekend in Joshua Tree; the “Impeach Bob” movement (Kelly had a t-shirt with this slogan on it); and the time she finagled a press pass to an XFL game in L.A., which included getting a picture of herself with Vince McMahon.
There was also the time I exploited her for an article about college students earning diplomas with Arnold Schwarzenegger’s signature on them. Bridget’s date of graduation meant she was in the first batch of students to get the Terminator’s name on their diploma. Not only did she let me “interview” her — really it was just two friends chatting on the phone — she met me and the photog on campus, brought her diploma, and let herself be photographed with it. (I put the picture in the flickr stream.)
Most importantly, however, she delivered the money quote for this story that I think speaks volumes about her. Bridget did not support the recall election and did not have a high opinion of Governor Schwarzenegger. “It kind of makes the diploma seem like a joke that an action hero has signed and validated it,” she said. “I got a BA in geography, but I think my diploma is BS.”
Not only did she say this, knowing it would be published around the country and possibly subject her to scorn by who-knows-whom, but she got excited after saying it, realizing it would be great in the article. “You should use that!” she told me. Are you sure, I asked, people are going to read this, they might get angry that you said something like that. But she brushed that right off, like, who cares?
Which goes to show the attitude and spirit that everyone else has already mentioned. Bridget did what she felt she needed to with her life, and didn’t let anyone else tell her how things had to be. I’ll miss that.
I’ve been sitting here for an hour trying to put into words my experience with Bridget, yet everything I put down seems so inadequate. Most people know that I’m a brash person who’s a little rough on the edges. To say that I can be a pain to work with sometimes would be an understatement. Yet, Bridget never lost her patience with me. She would just give me a look and say “Eddddddd…” She also never took it to heart when I stormed out of the Daily Bruin frustrated (which has happened on more than one occasion).
Bridget also showed incredible calmness under pressure. September 11, 2001, was a day of tragedy and chaos. She was the Photo Editor while I was an Assistant Photo Editor that just started the job with little to no experience. To put it bluntly, I was basically freaking out. Bridget, on the other hand, remained calm throughout the day. What I remember most though, is that towards the evening, some issue came up where someone wanted her to do something related to a photograph that was in the ethically grey area. In this chaotic day most people would have just caved and done it – blaming the tragedy for any errors caused. Certainly no one would have held it against her if she had caved. However, Bridget stood her ground and refused to do it. It was only a small moment yet it was a moment that I have always carried with me.
Bridget was also an amazing leader. As the Photo Editor she had to teach us Assistant Photo Editors how to edit and choose photos. One Sunday I was reviewing pictures I and another photographer had taken of a UCLA football game the day before. I didn’t know which pictures to choose and was basically drowning. Bridget told me to pick out some of the best pictures from the game. I came back with a few from the other photographer and a few from me. She then asked me why I liked each picture – never once giving her opinion. From then on I began to reason out why each picture should be included in there. In the end, however, I picked out three pictures, but all three pictures were shot by me. The next day, the situation blew up. The other photographer was mad that I didn’t even choose one of her pictures. She went to Bridget and complained about it. In retrospect, I wouldn’t have blamed Bridget if she apologized and told her things would be different next time. Instead, Bridget stood by me and said that it was my choice. Granted, I would have done things different the next time, but that loyalty was priceless. That is how leaders should lead.
I have always said the Daily Bruin was one of my best experiences at UCLA — that in no small part was because of Bridget.
I knew Bridget best through the time she spent with the copy desk. She was always sweet, humble and funny, and, of course, an excellent copy editor. Bridget would always devour a bag of Milano cookies with me, always chuckle at silly copy editor jokes, always keep everyone smiling, even if she had been stuck in the office for the past 16 hours. Her photographs were phenomenal–she had a rare grace that lent her the talent to create such brilliant art.
When she stayed with me and Sarah Balkin, she happily slept on our miniscule, cat-ravaged couch, and even though she was only there for a few days, insisted on making us (very tasty) brownies. Bridget–this world really will be a dimmer place without you. You had a one-of-a-kind knowledge of how to really live–and that’s more than most of us can say. We will remember you always.
My best memories of Bridget are intramural softball practices for the Rebel Media Warlords (the woman could play ball) and a truly excellent Bruin barbecue during my senior year.
I did not know Bridget as well as many of those who have already posted but I know she will always be remembered as a true individual, a skilled photojournalist and a valued friend and colleague to those who knew her.
Last Saturday, we received a surprise email from Bridget. They were in Omaha, en route to Chicago and wondered if we were free that weekend. In less than 12 hours, Bridget, Hayden and the rest of the wonderful guys in Electric Jellyfish descended on our doorstep. That night we stayed up until about 2 or 3am, just talking, drinking tea and recapping what had happened in the last 5 years. Before bed, Bridget stopped us in the hallway and said, “This is really cool, you know, that this isn’t WEIRD!” It certainly didn’t feel like 5 years had gone by at all. Bridget is one of those people who seems to be able to connect back with others, even over great distances of time or space. Like many of you whom have already posted, I always felt inspired by Bridget — she was always up to something interesting and eager to experience whatever came her way. And here she was, still following her creative intuition, managing the band while on leave from her photography work. The morning they departed, Bridget was wearing an Electric Jellyfish band shirt — “they have backbones”, she pointed out on one of the squiggly jellyfish designs. We sat in the kitchen and talked about diving. She said she wanted to see the Great Barrier reef sometime after she returned to Australia. She hadn’t changed — she was the same down-to-earth adventurer I remembered. We went out for $1.50 brunch tacos, and they came back to our place to pack. Bridget slept in one of our sleeping bags — in the morning she said, “Oh yeah, I found these,” as she held up a crusty pair of socks I had apparently forgotten in the bottom of one of the bags. I was really embarassed, but Bridget just said, “I thought it was funny. I always forget my socks…”
I am grateful that I got to see Bridget again, and to meet Hayden, who was an absolute pleasure to be around. I know that Bridget and the rest of the band were very excited to be heading east to meet up with many of you.
There’s not one anecdotal story that I can relay about Bridget. I remember her from numerous adventures throughout our high school, college and post college years.
I remember the many times we floated down the American River and never once tired of it.
I remember the long days working in a fireworks warehouse, where working in the office, Bridget had the power to schedule us for deliveries and would do so frequently. Some of the deliveries were actually with her and one time she and I stopped in San Francisco for lunch en route from Union City.
I remember Bridget flying to New York to meet us on our cross-country journey and sharing the road with us to DC.
I remember all the New Years Eves we spent in Tahoe and all the games we played while we were there.
I remember her photographing our annual Thanksgiving Day Turkey Bowls.
I remember the trip we took to UCLA in the summer for Kelly’s 21st Birthday.
I remember bidding her adieu in Santa Barbara before she and B-case drove her truck to New York. I accidentally swallowed a quarter that weekend.
I remember the time she visited me in San Diego when she was (not) living in her truck. We went and saw her cousin, Tommy Awesome, amateur pro wrestler, at a local community center.
I remember all the times we were bored in Sacramento and passed the time with disc golf, marco polo or monopoly.
I remember her at the three Electric Jellyfish shows that I saw.
I remember seeing her last in Las Vegas. She and the Jellyfish had just arrived from Tijuana. I could only imagine how much fun the Aussies were having their first time in America and being able to visit all these great cities. Leaving Las Vegas, I was talking with Bridget on the phone. She asked if I was going to go see them in New York and would not accept “no” for an answer.
I lost touch with Bridget after college, but she’ll always be part of some of my favorite memories from UCLA. Not only was she an immensely talented photographer and a dedicated copy editor, her blend of compassion, irreverence and free-spiritedness also endeared her to everyone she met.
I’ll remember Bridget as the girl who drank box wine and played ultimate Frisbee at 2 a.m. on the steps of Royce Hall; who snuck into an XFL game and somehow got a photo taken with her arm around Vince McMahon; who returned from the softball diamond with a shit-eating grin on her face after hitting a home run to defeat some unsuspecting frat.
Bridget, you were an amazing colleague and friend. You’ll be missed.
Bridget exemplified the type of person who I was hoping to befriend when I chose to return to school. She was an overachiever, with a zeal for life, possessing innate leadership skills beyond her years, and who was always adding to her skill set. She maximized her results in a minimum of time, because she never wasted a moment. It’s hard to single out a particular moment of our time together at The Daily Bruin that defines Bridget as an individual or as a friend. Rather, I see a montage of – joking around the table before a budget meeting, her herding the staff from the softball field to finish editing the next day’s paper, a late night at the Apple Pan and an endless slide show of other brief cherished memories.
She was the first person at the paper, who made me feel part of the group, at a time when I was still feeling like an outcast because of my age difference and unsure of whether I wanted to commit my senior year to the paper, Bridget invited me to join the softball team. She also encouraged me to join the parties, at a time when I would never have considered it. Those months during Spring 01 allowed me to forge friendships with the people who worked outside the sports cubicle, and encouraged me to see my personal goals at the paper and at UCLA to completion. I will always be grateful for that.
The quality that I most admired of Bridget’s was her ability to defuse tenuous situations and control difficult personalities. She always seemed to say the right things at the right time. When I was feeling down, she would always perk me up, and when I was out of line, she would straighten me out. I trusted her with all of my writers, because I knew that 99.9% of the time, Bridget would be able to handle any situation. She was funny, respectful, loyal, tough, and as good a manager as any that I’ve met in the professional world.
I always thought of Bridget as someone with limitless potential, because of her pro-active determination and her mental toughness. Although I hadn’t spoken to her in the years since our graduations, I always looked forward to one day serendipitously bumping into her, and swapping stories over beers, laughing at each other’s adventures. She compacted so much life into 26 years, and I will always admire her for that.
I just remember Bridget as having the most remarkable energy in such a compact package. When I told her no photographer could make me look good, she made it her mission to shoot me as often as she could when she thought I wasn’t looking.
And as good a photog as she was, she never did get a flattering photo of me. But not for lack of trying!
I have plenty of her: Bridget shooting the Blood Bowl during my first month at the Daily Bruin; in her green years at the -30 banquet with all the rest of you gorgeous people; hanging out in the newsroom…
How quickly time passes. It’s been six years since I left UCLA and not one day goes by that I don’t fondly remember at least one of my *kids.* You know who you are.
I am so proud of the woman Bridget’s become and her dedication to carpe diem. Obviously, she never let my disenchantment with having married a musician spoil her outlook.
Reading all your comments makes my heart burst, but not completely with sadness. The time I shared with you all and Bridget was special and grand. I hope one day to adequately commemorate that on the page. You are all just the best.
Last December, I was on vacation in New York City. I was just walking around by myself in the late morning, looking for something to eat. As I was waiting for the light to change at the crosswalk, I saw someone I hadn’t seen in at least a year. Last I heard, she’d been in Australia. Or maybe Paris. It was Bridget. As she crossed the street towards me, for some reason I decided it’d be funnier if I surprised her. I quickly pulled my beanie down over my eyes and huddled up in my heavy coat, and in the best homeless person impression I could muster, said to Bridget (who hadn’t yet noticed me) – “spare some change?”
She barely looked at me, shook her head “no” – thanks a lot, Bridget – and kept walking for a few steps, and only then seemed to notice me. She asked me what the hell I was doing there, and I asked her the same question. Turns out she had stopped in New York on her way back from Paris as she headed home for the holidays, and had just come from a meeting at the New York Times.
We got a bagel, sat on a stoop and caught up for a few minutes, and then we spent the day together.
We could have reminisced about a lot of things. I’d known Bridget since ninth or tenth grade, when I think we had Spanish together in Senor Gonzales’ class. Even though he was one of our favorite teachers and I think he really liked us, a group of us (led by Bridget I’m sure) decided it was a good idea to throw a tire into his tree one night when we were bored. Hopefully Senor Gonzales doesn’t read this.
We could have laughed about New Years our freshman year of college when she inadvertently helped inspire one of the most exclusive and prestigious clubs I’ve ever been apart of – the Mature Gang – a gang that still thrives today.
Or the time when we were in Westwood, for Kelly’s 21st birthday, and I was attacked by what seemed to be thousands of red ants as I leaned up against a wall at a dirty burrito shack. I very clearly remember Bridget laughing hysterically and pointing at me, as I screamed and tried to get the ants of my leg. That said, she soon redeemed herself as she helped me find a drugstore where I could buy ointment for my swollen leg.
Or when Bobby, Beach, Sean, Pat, Bridget and I started a conga line and a snapping circle…at the Sacramento Jazz Festival.
But we didn’t really talk about anything of significance that day. Instead, we just walked around the city all afternoon. It seemed so comfortable and natural, even though I hadn’t seen her in quite a while. We felt no need to reminisce or look back on old times or do anything like that, because you figure that your friends will all be around forever and you’ll always have those memories to laugh about one day. You have no reason to think otherwise.
For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to me that Bridget would be traveling with the band on their U.S. tour. So it was very much a surprise when I walked into the Stork Club in Oakland for the first show of the tour and saw Bridget. I met Hayden for the first time, and noticed that Bridget, or “Bridgo” as she was now called by her fellow Aussies, talked a lot like Hayden and the other guys. In fact, both Bridget and Beach sounded, well, like they’d been living in Australia for a while.
We had a great time that night, which happened to be my birthday, and I saw the Jellies again the next week when they came through Sacramento.
When I left Marilyn’s that night, I remember saying quick goodbyes to everyone. Nothing profound, nothing sentimental. I told everyone, including Bridget that I’d see them soon.
I’m so thankful I saw everyone at those two shows. And I still can’t believe that in New York City, the biggest city in the country, I just happened to cross the street and bump into Bridget. And she wouldn’t even toss me her spare change.
I had the privilege of meeting Bridget when she was a freshman starting out as a photographer for the Daily Bruin. As an assistant editor and writer, I had to interact with the photo department on a pretty regular basis.
I never hesitated to go to her for any help. She never made me feel like I was bothering her when I was desperate for art to go with some intern’s story. She just gave off this aura of being easy going and kind. I know those are the reasons I haven’t forgotten her face after six years.
I can still see her with her adorable blond curls peering at negatives by the photo cubicle.
No words seem good enough to sum up someone who was so well-liked. Bridget, we were all lucky to have known you.
I wish I could find the right words. Bridget always could. Maybe it is best if I share hers here because they are so appropriate.
In a book of inspirations I keep – alongside a copy of a Frida Kahlo self-portrait and postcards of my favorite places in the world – one can find a column published in the Daily Bruin in June of 2003. It was written by our inspirational friend Bridget O’Brien.
“Hooked on a Feeling”
Dear all,
Mari, Conor, Kelly, Craig and I are all still numb—stretches of clear thought and moments of normalcy sandwiched around boxes of Kleenex and utter despair. It’s heartbreaking to dilute the reality and depth of what has happened to our beautiful Bridget and Hayden to tend to the details that need to be addressed immediately, but first, we are so thankful that Mike, Pat and Adam came through the accident and are recovering safely. Our hearts, love and hopes for a quick mend go out to them.
Although Bridget and Hayden would already hate the amount of attention they have and will continue to receive, with Bridget no doubt rolling her eyes right now in heaven, directing attention to them and getting the word out about services is exactly what we want. Please help us by reaching into the nooks and crannies they visited and the friends they had around the world.
A joint service for Bridget and Hayden in the U.S. will take place Monday, October 29 at 10:00am in the chapel at Mt. Vernon Memorial Park and Mortuary, 8201 Greenback Lane, Fair Oaks, CA. There will be a visitation the day before, Sunday, October 28 from Noon to 4:00pm at the same location. We will be joined by our in-laws and friends Rodney and Sue Sweeney and Hayden’s sister Courtney. Joint services in Australia will be announced when possible.
Regarding the California service: If you plan to attend wear what you like, but we strongly urge you to consider whose lives we are celebrating and come in casual attire, flip-flops, something comfortable—you know, the kind of clothes you’d wear sitting around a table with Bridget and Hayden while she beat you at cards or a board game. We’ve all been there… In lieu of flowers, please make donations to the “Bridget O’Brien Daily Bruin Scholarship Fund”. We can think of no better way to honor Bridget than to help encourage others to discover and further their passion in journalism and photojournalism in her name. The address and account information for the fund are being arranged and will be out soon.
We are so thankful for the calls, emails and offers of help we’ve received, and hope you understand that with everything happening we aren’t responding to everyone individually. For now your prayers and good thoughts are what we need most. Keep them coming…
A notice and guestbook for Bridget is posted in the Sacramento Bee at http://www.sacbee.com. Friends have set up a tribute page with pictures and entries at http://www.rememberingbridget.com. You can also Google Bridget O’Brien, Hayden Sweeney or Electric Jellyfish.
Thank you doesn’t say it, but thank you…
Kevin
Kevin O’Brien
5501 Wyndham Hill Court
Carmichael, CA 95608
everyone wrote from the perspective of knowing Bridget in college, or after, or maybe late high school. I met Bridget when she had just moved to Tucson, right after I did, in 6th grade. She was spunky and sassy and they richest and driest sense of humor. And just so smart. We have not been in the best of touch in recent years, but it broke my heart to to hear this news. I loved hearing from Mari and Kevin about all of her ridiculously bold and incredible adventures over the past years, none of which surprised me (considering who Bridget was) but all of when made me envious. I still have some of the great stuff that she made for me when we were typical inseperaable buddies in middle school. She was.. .well… what you all have said. A singularly incredible woman.
My love to you, O’Brien’s all.
Love,
Turtle Woman
Bridget, whom I preferred to call BoB, was inspired and inspiring. The little brown truck that she used to help so many of you move was originally mine. But she made it hers. Secretly, I loved that ’87 Toyota pick-up despite the fact that it didn’t unlock from the outside on the driver’s side, had duct tape over the handle, was on its third clutch, needed a constant supply of clutch juice, and had over 180,000 miles. My girlfriend at the time didn’t much care for it, and I foundered when Patil talked trash about my beloved truck. But Bridget (who worked closely with Patil) helped me wage a guerilla war with her about that truck and its greatness. It was her personal goal to convince Patil that that truck was awesome. And I learned why when I moved to Wisconsin for grad school: BoB had had eyes on it for nearly two years. She insisted that my parents should sell it to her. I warned her of the curse that it bore; the curse of moving other people’s stuff. Yet she knew it was a cross she could bear. When I asked why she wanted the truck so badly, BoB declared, “Because it’s comfortable!”
That’s how I’ll remember Bridget – comfortable. BoB yelled “Arrrgghh!” like a pirate with me in the office. BoB interned on the copy desk because she thought the style police were fun. BoB responded to BoB. BoB played games of disc golf that led to concussions. BoB chided me whenever I told the same stories (which was often). BoB photographed me with a singing pirate.
I feel privileged to have seen Bridget just four days before her death. I hadn’t seen her in over five years. It was great – same ol’ Bridget, but with a slight accent and deeper lines around the eyes from smiling too much. Before she turned in for the night, Bridget thanked us for letting her, Heydan, and the EJ’s stay. “I’m really glad it’s not weird,” she said. I told that it wasn’t weird because she was a good friend. “Yeah,” she replied.
And it wasn’t weird to see Bridget after such a long time. It was comfortable. Bridget’s fly-by visit reminded me of how much I have missed her over the years since I left UCLA.
I will miss Bridget O’Brien something fierce.
It was a fall evening at the Daily Bruin in 2001. I was slotting (copy-desk lingo), and Bridget was around to paste up and drive the paper to the plant. She wasn’t just photo editor that year. She never truly did just one thing at The Bruin. She had too much talent and energy for just one thing. Anyway, everyone else was gone for the night when some newly-discovered production circumstances and a certain finger injury affected our ability to meet deadline. Needless to say, we were both testy and delirious but at an hour I need not mention, we got the newspaper out and rejoiced. We chronicled the amusing and frustrating aspects of the work shift on a mock cover page, and I believe we finished off the night drinking something out of a paper bag…out of the office, of course. Thank God for Bridget.
BOB started The Bruin just about the same week I did freshman year. We exited it at the same time, too, as we both graduated a quarter late. We even traveled abroad at the same time senior year and exchanged the goofiest e-mails about our respective experiences. All of my Daily Bruin memories include her and many of my larger Los Angeles and beyond experiences do, as well. There are very few people one can spend endless amounts of time with, and Bridget epitomizes that type of person for me. As already stated by others, she is kind, spirited, sincere, beautiful, extremely competent and confident. Bridget challenged me, and I think/hope I grew up a little bit in her presence.
For various reasons, we had an independent-women theme going on at my last apartment in Westwood (shared with Sarah Wagner and Kate Anderson). And so “what would Bridget do?” (WWBD) was commonly and reasonably posed among our group. We also had a quote board and since Bridget stopped by and stayed over often enough, she made it on there. Early into the school year Kate had been given a decorative, large knife by one of her many male admirers. Ungratefully, she tried to give it away, made silly excuses for it and received odd looks. One of them was from Bridget, whose unmistakable laugh could be heard from far away. “When you have to start giving away your knives because you’ve run out of room,” Bridget said.
I was supposed to see Bridget and meet Hayden on Oct. 23. BUT the second to last time I saw Bridget, we gallivanted around Brooklyn. She took me to a lounge that only she would know of, and we talked about nothing in particular. It was chill and perfect.
It’s absolutely impossible not to adore her.
Among the many memories floating like fog in my head (I’m not sure if they’re foggy because of time or because of various substances consumed over the course of several years at the many Daily Bruin gatherings where Bridget was, as they say, the life of the party), I keep returning to the day when Bridget arrived back in the office after spending a quarter in Chile. Everyone stopped. Everything stopped. People ran to her that day, as they always did, because she was magnetizing. I imagine that many of the new copy or news or A&E interns were curious, if not a bit frightened, as they saw their elders swiftly surround Bridget as if she were a 1930s starlet. I wish I had told them then that Bridget was, indeed, an icon — someone they should get to know, someone they should try to emulate. At a place like the Bruin, which revolves so much around generations, legacies, traditions, and histories, Bridget certainly left her inimitable mark — with humor, with verve, with talent, and, as Cuauhtemoc says, always with patience.
When I think about Bridget I can’t help but think of what Yoda says to Luke Skywalker in Empire Strikes Back: “Do or do not. There is no ‘try.’” Bridget was a doer. She just did. No questions. No apologies. That, I imagine, is the lesson she taught many of us.
What I admired most about Bridget was that she was down to earth and a hard worker. She not only ran the photo department but also drove the paper to the printer every night. I really admired that she was a go getter, always determined. Any extra job that was available, she took it. I still remember Bridget grinning as she would speak to me in Spanish in her sweet quiet voice. She loved to practice her Spanish with me and her extra effort made me feel so welcomed and accepted at the Bruin. She had such a loving soul. Even though we were from different backgrounds, I felt a connection to her. Whenever I brought food it was Bridget and that sports editor guy (whose mind escapes me) that would always come over and not only eat the sometimes really spicey food, but also want to get to know me and share their funny/silly stories with me. I will miss cooking for Bridget! I thank God for knowing Bridget and sharing my food and stories with her!
Bridget? What I will recall most about her is the energy and huge heart wrapped up in such a small package. I worked with hundreds of students as your former Student Media Adviser, but she was a standout… for her guts, her mischievous sense of humor and her dedication to carpe diem.
When I mentioned that I couldn’t get a decent picture of myself, she made it her mission to do so, always shooting me when she thought I wasn’t looking.
Great photographer that she is, she never did get a good shot of me, but oh, I got many of her: At the Blood Bowl with a lens almost as big as herself; partying with the gang; celebrating during the -30 banquet; and, always, working.
I spent the weekend poring over photos from that time frame. Man, how time passes, as I’m sure those who shared that precious period with me now realize. I am extremely proud of all of you. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of one of my *kids.*
Like Bridget, you’re just the best. I hope to immortalize you, and Bridget, on paper. What a special time and what a phenomenal group. And what a priviledge.
The Daily Bruin’s obituary
I am so shocked at this news. I wasn’t close friends with Bridget, but remember her as someone who held a mythic status in the Bruin newsroom as the coolest girl anyone there would ever know. It would be safe to say I found the amount of reverence directed toward her deeply intimidating. I also remember being totally impressed by how brave and confident she was, whether in deciding to live in her car for ten weeks or heading to Central America just because she felt like it and turning it into one of the best stories the Bruin ever published, along with that USA Today job. During our time together at the Bruin, I was pretty convinced that my life would never be as interesting as Bridget’s. And I still am.
It may sound trite, but I can’t remember anyone ever hating Bridget. She wasnt necessarily nice to everyone. In fact I think she always spoke her mind in a very straitforward manner. But she was always respectful in the way she said it and people respected her for that.
I think people also liked her because she was just a fun person to be around. I had the privilege of attending both Rio Americano High School and UCLA with Bridget and while the time we spent together dwindled after my freshmen year in Westwood, I was always happy to see her. I was also (not so) secretly jealous that she was a Daily Bruin sports photog and got to use all the cool camera equipment and sit on the sidelines at any game she wanted. But then again, she was always doing things that made everyone else think, “Wow that would be so cool.” For some reason, she was the only one who had the passion to follow through.
It’s hard to imagine that someone with so much life could leave the rest of us to go on without her. Bob will be missed.
I was Bridget’s assistant photo editor, and we spent countless hours together in the newsroom - wading through photographs, haggling with reporters, and just trying to get stuff done on time. I felt like I went off to war that year. And the only reason I survived, was Bridget.
There are too many Bridget memories to recount. And most often, those memories were about the little things she did, that put her in your personal hall of fame. I’ll never forget how she took my Sunday shifts, so I could attend church. She never hesitated staying after hours, if it meant a better paper the next morning. And that look of hers (such a small thing) could calm you down, even when hell broke loose. Bridget was selfless. Bridget was… awesome. I always respected her because she was among the few who truly knew herself and possessed confidence and humility at the same time. She inspired me.
I don’t know what else to say that would aptly describe someone so indescribable. I’ve been at a loss of words all week. And all I can say is that I will miss her and never forget her.
Bridget paved the way to Daily Bruin success for short, strong, opinionated girls! I could always count on her to gang up on Tim, Q and the other boys at editorial meetings. I enjoyed her shrewd analysis, personal drive, sense of adventure and vibrance. It is so wrong and sad that she won’t be able to touch the lives of more people in this world, because she was an uplifting presence and tremendous spirit. But I am overwhelmed and amazed by how many people she did touch in the short time she was here. I am keeping her in my thoughts, and seeing these loving comments from the many of you I haven’t spoken to in years makes me want to underscore the great bond we all have, regardless of time and distance.
Bridget was a firecracker from the start. I was the photo editor at the Daily Bruin when she started in the fall of her freshman year. She was heads and tails above everyone else in her group and became a full-time staffer in record time. Back then, we were still shooting on film and we sat perched over the lighttable for many afternoons. Of course, that would be when she was taking a break from developing the film, which she did in one of her other many jobs at the Bruin.
Bridget was awesome. My last memory of her is dring brass monkeys on Barbara’s rooftop in Brooklyn. We had such a good time that night. She always made one feel excited about life and the future. Thanks Bridget.
This November marks 10 years since I was fortunate enough to meet and spend time with Bridget. Very unfortunately, it has been far too many years since we last spoke. It would have made me so happy to know what she was up to… but all of these notes speak to exactly the kind of person I knew her to be.
Every room she entered she made uncommonly bright. Every smile melted ice. I can think of no one else in my life that has had such a profound and positive effect on so many people. She was, in no small way, amazing.
My sincerest wishes for comfort go out to both families and to everyone who knew her. Mari, Kevin, Conor, and Kelly, you have always been wonderfully warm to me and I am grateful to you in more ways that I could possibly express.
I love you, Bridget. I loved you then, I love you now, and I will miss you forever.
One of the first times I met Bridget, she and Kelly and I found ourselves in Ross Dress-for-Less. In fact, I’d convinced them to come with me. Later I learned more about Bridget: I learned that the best birthday present you could buy her was a skateboard, that she liked playing catch on the beach, that she hated wearing skirts, that really, she was the very opposite of “fussy.” But one of the first things I learned about Bridget was that she was up for anything—forget Paris or South America. She was up for a trip to Ross Dress-for-Less.
And actually, I think that she didn’t have to go far to find an adventure—she was always there waiting for it. She would find contentment wherever she was; she would go along with whatever life was offering in that minute. I remember her waiting patiently outside the dressing room as I emerged with a stack of cheap shirts. Look, I showed her, they’re really only $7. She didn’t know me very well at that point, but she tilted her head slightly and raised her eyebrow in a look I would come to recognize. “Yeah,” she said, “but that’s still $7.” That’s all she said. Not, “they’re the ugliest shirts I’ve ever seen.” (They were). Not, “you must be an idiot.” And definitely not what I would have said—”sure, they’re cute.” It was a small thing, but actually, I remember thinking at the time that I certainly didn’t have the hang of that kind of honesty.
She was right of course. It only took a few months before I was sending the shirts to Goodwill. It was just like Bridget to see through all the little unimportant details, to know that it was about the trip itself and not buying things—not what you get at the end.
Sometime shortly after that day, my grandpa had the opportunity to meet Bridget. He couldn’t hear very well, but he would scream her name, and she would smile. He liked her. And he only liked really good people.
Bridget taught me how to be a journalist and a Californian. She’s one of the few individuals who undeniably affected the path I’m on today.
She was gracious. I was a nervous and uncertain young photographer, and she took me under her wing. Bridget was my conduit into the Daily Bruin, both professionally and socially, and her enthusiasm catapulted me through four great years. This was true even with the small stuff, like when I needed a car to cover an assignment off campus. Without blinking, she handed me Kelly’s car keys — and this was long before I met Kelly.
She was inspiring. At the end of my freshman year, after many rolls of film and ridiculously fun nights, I was speechless when Bridget asked me to succeed her as photo editor. For a 19-year-old kid from Missouri, still adrift in Los Angeles, Bridget’s confidence in my abilities meant more than I can articulate. In the months before and after I was hired, she patiently trained me in the arts of photo editing, management and, as corny as it sounds, simply enjoying life. I worked hard to emulate her poise and passion.
She was infinitely cheerful. I’ll never forget our annual rendezvous at midnight as she led the photo staff to the girl’s bathroom in Kerckhoff Hall for a group portrait, which launched the 24-hour chaos of photography that was Day in the Life. Nor the happy memories of frisbee, parties and photo geek sessions (very few people in this world appreciate the joy of new digital cameras, telephoto lenses and lighting kits).
I’m grateful our paths crossed unexpectedly, as was typically the way one crossed paths with Bridget. And I’m particularly appreciative that I saw her, Hayden and the Aussie contingent in Vegas a few weeks ago. On a party bus with 30 people, it was a reminder how easily she forged connections to people from every geography and background. It was fun to ride on the coattails of a vagabond like Bridget.
It’s a heart wrenching journey going through this long list of memories that people have of Bridget – truly a testament of how great of a person she was. For the few years that I knew Bridget at the Daily Bruin, there will always be fond memories of late night editing, Day in the Life trips to the Kerckhoff womens room, my inability to say “no” to her when asked to shoot assignments and, of course, jealously hearing about her adventures abroad. She was the Photo Editor at the Daily Bruin when I started shooting and was constantly encouraging this shy 2nd year to take assignments and critiquing my work. I may never become the photographer she was but I certainly learned a lot from her passion in life and her adventurous spirit. I’m utterly sad to hear that she’s gone but comforted to know that she’ll always be remembered. Cheers Bridget.
I had the pleasure of knowing Bridget at a time when I was young and impressionable, just getting comfortable with myself as a supremely awkward pre-teen, and she was the ‘cool older girl’ from Rio who hung out with my brother Bill and his friends. I remember countless summer afternoons when Bridget would come over and swim in our pool after long days on the American River, giving me “big sister” type advice on dealing with teenage boys, speaking my mind as a young woman should (!), and being a free spirit and not letting anything get in the way of doing what I wanted to do.
For me, Bridget was the epitome of cool and I looked up to her greatly. She took time during lunch to come hang out with me and “check-in,” and let me tell you, as an entering freshman, that was pretty awesome. Bridget was hilarious, with a subtle humor that always had me cracking up.
I was also lucky to see a side of Bridget that was extremely kind, patient, and caring. She took time in high school to nanny/tutor my younger sister Jackie, and I looked forward to afternoons spent with her at our kitchen table going over homework and chatting about nonsense. It’s no secret that Bridget was extremely bright, and her willingness to help others was with complete selflessness and compassion, especially for Jackie.
Though I only knew her for a few short years in her young adulthood, she left a profound impact on me and my family, as I know my parents absolutely adored her. I will forever keep these fond memories of Bridget in my heart and mind, and will continue to keep her family in my thoughts in prayers during this difficult time.
Man I can’t believe I’m actually writing something like this about a friend. Even though I lost touch with “Bridge” after we graduated, I still considered her a really cool friend and I will never forget her. The last time I saw her was at a party at UCLA where her, Mari and myself took a picture together. She was always a really fun person to hang out with and always had such a cool attitude about everything. Reading all of the comments above it really breaks my heart to have lost touch with her, I wish I would have had one more chance to share a laugh with her and all of the Bruin gang. All my prayers go out to her family and Bridge, we will never forget you!
It has been quite difficult reading all these wonderful memories about Bridget, knowing her life was cut short. At the same time it’s inspiring me all over again to reflect on Bridget’s natural abilities and personable personality and see how they can filter into my life. It’s comforting to know how many lives she has touched.
I had the opportunity to work with–and learn from–Bridget via the design department and as a fellow Bruin photographer. As photographers, we know that a picture can and should tell its own story. Given this, the most superior ones allow the viewer to know the person behind the lens. How well does the photographer understand the subject in the viewfinder? Why is the photo shot from a certain angle? Why is something left in while another subject is cropped? What shots are needed for a comprehensive photo essay and why?
Through all her genuine photos we’ll be able to remember her spirit, talent, and simply the way she approached life. Her work was never “just a filler.”
The loss of Bridget has severely impacted the amount of supercompetence in the world. Bridget did what she wanted, and she did it well, and she made the people around her better by being herself. But as the comments on this site already attest, Bridget went right on making people better and increasing the amount of awesome in the world even when she *wasn’t* around.
Bridget’s not around now, and it seems to me that she still has the power to make us better–better workers, better drinkers, better corruptors of intelligent youth, better friends, better artists and movers and travellers. Bridget is the person I will think of in the moments when I find myself doing things I don’t really care about. I think she will continue to remind us all that there’s no excuse not to be amazing.
I didn’t know Bridget for very long, but the O’Briens occupy a special place in my heart as I have many early memories of their family. It saddens me greatly to hear of the passing of Bridget, but it warms the heart to read of the passion she had for everything she encountered and what amazing things she was able to accomplish with her life. My heart and prayers are with you and your family, Bridget.
When I think of Bridget, I first think of that slightly mischievious smile — the same one she’s sporting in the photos on this page. I met her at the Bruin and mostly remember her as an assistant photo editor with limitless patience, whether for a photo intern or editor of another section who was making her job more difficult. Despite the fact that she had a sort of little sister quality about her, she was one of the most reliable of all the staff members, and brought a level of professionalism to her work that was beyond her years.
Although I completely lost touch of Bridget after graduating, and I’m impressed to read here that she did so many interesting things, traveled to so many places, and touched so many people in the past five years. Thank you all for sharing this.
I’m also reminded here of how significant our experiences were at the Bruin in shaping all of our lives. It’s incredibly heartwarming to see you all here. And I can’t imagine a better way to honor Bridget’s legacy than with a scholarship for future Daily Bruin photojournalists.
I spent 8 amazing days with Bridget and friends in Paris and Sweden last year.
One day Bridget and I decided to go swimming at the beach, seeing as everyone else had gone golfing for the day (and there wasn’t much else to do in the small town we were staying in, aside from swim, eat, and drink). That day we both swam out to a small wooden dock that was floating alone, about 30 yards from the water’s edge. We lounged there for an hour or so, in the middle of the ocean, occasionally dipping back in the water when it got too warm. At one point while we sat, Bridget noticed an orange and white buoy floating further out in the sea, what seemed like 200 yards away. Looking out into the horizon, she casually stood up, said “I’m going to swim out there,” and jumped in. I looked at her like she was crazy. But sure enough she began freestyling straight out into the open ocean, no boats, no nothing, on the horizon. I watched her the whole time, and after about 20 minutes she was still going. From my vantage point I could just make out the shape of her head in the distance, bobbing on the horizon. After 20 minutes she casually made her way back. As her face came into focus all I could see was a big smile, stretching from ear to ear.
Bridget led an amazing life filled with the kinds of adventures most people dream of but never do. She did.
Bridget was an amazing person in every way possible. She had a knack for being able to cheer everyone up, but also be focused when work needed to be done and impress you again and again with her talents. It was hard to not to talk to her and leave the conversation with a smile on your face. And if something came up at the last minute, she would not only step up and do what was needed, but she’d do it better than anyone else could.
I unfortunately didn’t keep in touch with her after she left UCLA, but she had a lasting impact on me and others. Bridget tried copy editing at a time when it wasn’t common to work in multiple sections of the paper — seeing her success was one of the reasons me and others later decided to do the same.
And she could hit a softball a long way. I’ll never forget that.
I had the great fortune of being one of Bridget’s friends throughout our three years at Esperero Canyon Middle School in Tucson. She was such an outgoing, funny, smart, and unfailingly friendly girl. Though unfortunately I did not keep in touch with her after she moved away, I nevertheless have many fond memories of her laugh and extremely congenial personality - so many great lunchtimes and passing periods out in the desert sun. As Lissy wrote above, she was so much fun to be around - she had such a cheerful and vibrant character. Bridget was always happy to have another friend, even starting at age 13 - and it clearly shows from all the posts above. I’m so so glad I knew her.
It’s wonderful to see so many familiar names from a not so distant past honoring a person who added so much to our lives. I wish I knew her better…like others I remember the cool, calm, professional and adventurous person who made the Bruin a joy.
I don’t think many of the people that have read or posted on this site knew much about Bridget’s relationship with her husband of six months, Hayden Sweeney, from Australia. I didn’t spend a ton of time together with them, but was lucky enough to spend the first two weeks that they knew each other with them. Bridget, Hayden, Mike Beach and I (with Fat Pat joining in Quebec) drove through New York, Quebec and other parts of the Northeast in June 2005 in Bridget’s car that she recently bought from a nun. The couple completely hit it off right from the beginning. They were comfortable enough after knowing each other for two days to sleep leaning on each other in the New York subway. It was no shock to me that they began seriously dating not too long after the trip.
Although I didn’t spend much time with them together again until they stayed at my apartment for a week in San Francisco a few weeks ago, I appreciated their relationship. I remember Mike Beach called me once from Australia to complain that his two best friends in Australia were totally inseparable. They were always together and he was mad because they were spending much less time with him when they were together. During a walk through SF a couple of weeks ago, Bridget and Hayden went off by themselves and were enjoying some inside joke. I commented to Beach that it was so cool that she and Hayden were so in love. He completely agreed.
Although most of Bridget’s American friends didn’t know Hayden, I think you all would have seen that Bridget and Hayden were great for each other.
Other great memories I have of Bridget:
-Weekend mornings in Sacramento at my parents’ house. Bridget would always walk into the kitchen and ask my mom to cook breakfast for her, and she always did.
-Bridget always winning monopoly. Mike Franz put it best: “don’t trust Bridget, she might seem sweet, but she’s out to kill you! Sorry Bridget.”
-I recently introduced my girlfriend to Bridget in Oakland at an Electric Jellyfish show. My girlfriend stuck her hand out to shake hands with Bridget, Bridget opened her arms and gave her a big hug instead. My girlfriend was shocked, but later said she liked the girl who hugged her.
-Bridget and I spent two weeks traveling through Eastern Europe together last summer. She accepted a job at Fat Tire Bike Tours at the same time, but only with the condition that she could have 2 weeks to travel. She got the job, despite no other employees getting more than 4 days off at one time. She had her priorities straight.
-I think anyone that knows Bridget would agree that the last google chat message I received from her a few weeks ago shows that Bridget was doing what she loves “we’re going down to the water to have some beers and watch the sun set… call us when you’re ready to play.”
Bridget’s roommates freshman year were twin sisters named Hi Kim and Hi Kim. That’s right. Same name.
They didn’t want much to do with anyone, including Bridget. Which meant that Bridget spent much of her time hanging with the boys of Hitch C-11. We downloaded music, shot pool, drank beer, played guitars and swam at the Hedrick rec center well past operating hours. More often than not, Bridget would crash at our place, instead of going back to her room and the Hi Kims.
One of her jobs that year was working at the Sproul Hall front desk. I guess Bridget figured she owed us big time for the time she spent in our room, because when my roommates and I decided a second couch would be nice for our suite, she agreed to a plan that, had it failed, could have gotten her fired – or worse.
It wasn’t stealing, we reasoned, to take the couch from the Sproul lobby. After all, when we moved out at the end of the year, UCLA would get it back – along with the coffee mugs, plates, bowls and silverware we’d “borrowed” from the dining halls.
Bridget often worked the late shift at Sproul and one night, around 4 a.m., the plan was set in motion. My roommates entered, cuing Bridget, at the front desk, to go back into the mailroom. That way, if the security cameras picked up anything, Bridget could plausibly say she didn’t see what happened. My roommates brought the couch outside and we lugged it up the hill and back to Hitch. Mission accomplished.
That next fall Bridget persuaded me to join the Daily Bruin. Fast-forward seven years and I have the career that I do, and many of the friends that I do, because of that decision – because of Bridget.
I only saw Bridget two or three times after she moved to Australia. I knew almost nothing about Bridget and Hayden’s wedding. But the day after they died, Sarah and I heard the story and saw the pictures. They were married before an Australian magistrate, April 23. Bridget wore a sundress and flip-flops. Hayden, a light blue suit with a cream-colored shirt, no tie. The reception was at a BYOB Thai restaurant. And the wedding party, we were told, got up a number of times during dinner to go buy more beer.
One photo in particular stays in my mind. It shows Bridget holding Hayden’s hands. She appears to be laughing at how silly the wedding procedure is, but you can also tell by her eyes and her smile how much she loved Hayden.
And that was it. Bridget may have dismissed certain things in life – living in an apartment her last quarter at UCLA, or an ornate wedding ceremony – as unnecessary or incidental. But what mattered, mattered. She loved to travel. She loved to learn. She loved the people around her – the subjects of her photography, her friends, her family, her husband. Perhaps only her caring heart could match her mischievous sense of adventure.
I keep having this odd thought that Bridget is just going on another trip, that I’ll have the chance to tell her a few important things before she leaves. If that were true, I’d tell her that Sarah and I are planning to go Colombia and Panama this December. I’d tell her we’re going to be traveling more extensively in the next couple of years and maybe coming to Australia. I’d tell her it was great seeing her earlier this month and that it was so good to meet Hayden. I’d tell her, “Keep in touch.”
“MIDNIGHT TACOS!!!” Although what we were about to cook would have probably been described more accurately as “3 a.m. tacos,” but that just didn’t really roll of the tongue, so “midnight tacos” it was.
For the 6 weeks Bridget and I shared an apartment in Washington, DC, we cooked together almost daily. I should specify though, I say we “shared” an apartment, but it was my apartment, paid for by my company. Bridget took it upon herself to move out of the back of her truck and into my apartment, and I couldn’t have been more excited about it, so the apartment became ours. I can’t say she didn’t earn her keep though, as she came to work with me every day for her entire stay. We spent our days riding Segways and illegally parking the company Hummer H2. We spent our nights hosting dinner parties and drinking $3 bottles of wine. “Quesadilla party, our apartment, tonight! Bring cheap wine and whoever wants to come, we’re playing Monopoly after dinner.”
On this particular evening though, it was midnight tacos which we were cooking for everyone. “Get your passport Bridget, you’re about to enter flavor country.” Bridget got her passport, and I promptly stamped it with a piece of raw chicken. Unsanitary? Yes. Hilarious? Kind of. It was hilarious to us at least, and as far as I know her passport still has the chicken stamp.
Bridget and I took Monopoly seriously, very seriously. If you never played Monopoly with us, I don’t think you can ever understand how seriously we actually took it. If you did ever get the opportunity to play Monopoly with us, you were probably too weirded out to ever play with us again. We had a strict set of rules, a competitive style of play, and a mutual respect for each others abilities.
Bridget and I both knew why she was better than me, because she looked so damn innocent. Seriously, who would you trust more if they were trying to pawn off Pennsylvania Avenue on you? “Bridget looks so kind and sweet, she would never try to rip me off. But that Franz character, he’s so scraggly and loud…I’m trading with Bridget.”
I tried to warn people. Immediately upon deciding we were going to play Monopoly, I would start lobbying to any newcomers, “Don’t trust O’Brien, she looks sweet and all, but she’s a shark I tell ya. You should have seen the trade she did with my Uncle Cory one time, he didn’t know what hit him.” Bridget would then come back with her “Don’t trust Franz” speech, and by the end she had already won them over to her side. We would then look across the table at each other, smile, and declare that the game has already begun.
I’ve hesitated to post my thoughts because I can’t find the words that capture how I feel. Remembering Bridget is an intangible, though clearly identifiable, experience. (I can’t recall hearing anything but pleasant remembrances when I’ve interviewed people about losing a loved one. But with Bridget it’s true.) I hadn’t spoken with her in a few years, but the mentioning of her name still — and will always — brings a smile to my face.
I heard the news of Bridget’s passing yesterday and have been trying to muster the strength to write something. I lost touch with Bridget after we graduated from UCLA and the Bruin, but she left a definite impression on me. She was an assistant photo editor when I joined the Bruin in 2000 (when I was Mary Holscher). She was such a strong young woman, and even though she was just a year older than me, she became a mentor. She taught me so much about photojournalism and how to enjoy college, and life, to its fullest. She always had such amazing energy.
I heard the news from Cathy, whom I hadn’t spoken with in years. This site shows how many people loved her and the community she built around her. It’s obvious she touched all of us, both individually and as a group.
My deepest condolences to the O’Brien family…Your daughter was a gifted young woman who was beloved by nearly everyone she spent time with. Bridget often came up in conversations I had with Mark Woodhams, who shared my admiration for her and you, the family that nurtured such a special person. Bridget worked for me for the better part of a school year, organizing Bruin alumni and our year-end banquet. I remember her much like everyone else. She was smart and spunky, with a ready but understated wit (on the job at least) that she seemed to punctuate with that smile. We would have rambling talks from time to time, and that’s when I began to understand how differently she came at things –such a wide view of the world and people, so adventurous, so casually brave, so naturally talented, all driven by her big heart. As a parent, I’d like to say congratulations on raising a daughter who cared about her friends and the world in the way she did, who was so balanced that she could be serious and sunny, and who had the gifts of character that allowed her to so positively affect the people around her.
Freelance photographer killed in crash
LAObserved posted the note below and a link to the Daily Bruin obit: http://www.dailybruin.ucla.edu/news/2007/oct/22/car-crash-kills-photojournalist/
Bridget O’Brien, 26, the former photo editor of the UCLA Daily Bruin, died when she swerved to avoid a deer on a highway near Cleveland. She was driving her husband, who also died, and other members of the band Electric Jellyfish. Daily Bruin
I have been reading all of the comments that everyone has posted over the past few days, remembering Bridget and what she brought to everyone around her. I have wanted to post something myself during all that time, but my heart doesn’t know what to say, feel, or act. I have known Bridget since the summer before our Freshman years in college when we met on a rafting trip, but we really didn’t get to know each other that well until a few years ago when we became tied at the hip in the summer before she moved to New York. Bridget introduced me to things I never would have experienced without her. I loved how she never backed down from anything, and how she enjoyed the simple pleasures, even something as simple as gloating over the fact that she was 2 days older than me. Although we are two VERY different (and stubborn) people, I don’t think I have ever met anyone who has made me challenge my beliefs as much as she did because of how comfortable she could be anywhere and how comfident she was in her beliefs. It sounds cliche and easy to say, but you never realize it until well on down the line.
Bridget would do anything for her friends whenever they needed it. When I took a 3 week Europe trip in 2004, it was Bridget I called beforehand to calm my nerves about the trip. She went along with my complaining and worries for a long time before she finally said, “Alex, stop being such a girl. This is supposed to, and is going to be, fun.” That made me laugh and was very comforting to someone who hasn’t even been across the Mountain Time Zone for travel, let alone Europe on my own. However, when the day came for me to depart, I began feeling that nervousness again and Bridget was the first person I called. I was flying into New York in a few hours and she insisted on coming to meet me at the airport before I crossed the pond. Once arriving in New York, I went out of the terminal to the place we were supposed to meet and never found her, but it was not for her lack of trying. I went back in and flew to London, where I got a voicemail from her saying that she had been held up in the afternoon commute. Her voice sounded so sad, like she had let me down, but Bridget never let me down. I later learned from Franz that she had left her house 3 hours early to meet me, and had to make 2 bus transfers and 3 subway changes. I do not know of anyone else who would have made such an effort, just to make a friend feel better.
At the Electric Jellyfish in Sacramento, I planned on telling her how much this meant to me (along with accepting the late- late night phone calls when I just wanted to hear a familiar voice), but I thought there would be plenty of other times to do this. She told me how happy she was and how proud she was of the band, and that made all of us happy too. I am so grateful for the few hours we had together at the show and at my house with the band afterwards.
Bridg, I’m sorry for taking you for granted, you just made all of us so confident in believing that you would always be there, with a listening ear, a kind word, and a smile.
Bridget was good people.
We say that a lot, but in the past week I’ve realized that for most people, it’s not always the case. Bridget was truly good willed, as anyone who met her or reads these recollections will attest. If the two can be used together, she was simultaneously cynical and optimistic. I’m not entirely certain I can explain that contradiction, it’s something you just had to know Bridget to understand. The looks she used to give, that everyone talks about and that you can see in the pictures, only hint at this. She didn’t bullshit you and she didn’t accept bullshit from you. And she expected the best out of you, even when you disappointed her. At least she did so for me, and I will always be grateful to her for that.
As I’m sure it was for everyone who has written something on this memorial, it’s difficult for me to write anything coherent, even now several days after hearing the news. I’ve tried to think of what she meant to me, and what I’ve come to realize is that, for me, she will always be a reminder of a time when I believed that we could change the world through a little bit of adventure and a whole lot of honesty. It’s a lesson I hope I will never forget. I miss you BOB.
First of all, I want to say how much I enjoy reading everyone’s posts. I check the site multiple times throughout the day, always anxious to read more. For that reason, I figured I’d add another story. This will sound like a cheesy, fabricated, ever-so-innocent adventure story stolen from the pages of Tom Sawyer, but it actually happened, I feel like telling it and ever since then I have never been able to eat a blackberry without thinking of it.
One summer, a few of us were down by the river, as we often were. It was Bobby, Bridget and me, and someone else, but I can’t remember for sure who it was. Bridget was definitely there. Someone mentioned that there were these really good wild blackberries growing along one portion of the river, so we swam out to the island and went to town. They were really, really good. We kept eating them and eating them until the bushes were bare and our hands were practically bloodied by all the thorns. Finally, we called it a day and made our plans for that night. We were all supposed to go to a party or something like that.
A few hours later, the blackberries got their vengeance. I felt terrible. My stomach hurt so badly that I was curled up in a ball on the floor. I called Bridget, to tell her that for some reason the blackberries weren’t agreeing with me, and that I probably wouldn’t be able to go out that night. I remember that as soon as I got Bridget on the phone, she cut me off and said, “I don’t think I can make it out tonight. I am so sick.” I ended up calling the other two guys, and turns out everyone had American River wild blackberry poisoning. None of us made it out that night.
I still like blackberries, but like most things I’ve learned it’s best to eat them in moderation. I guess I can thank Bridget in part for helping me learn that valuable life lesson.
Like Brian said above, I also refresh this page regularly, looking for new stories to read that make me feel like I knew Bridget just a little bit better. It has helped immensely.
So here’s one more.
Summertime in Sacramento (when you’re under 21) is not exactly full of things to do. We had the river, which many people have already mentioned was one of Bridget’s favorite spots. We had bowling, the pool hall, and we had miniature golf at Scandia.
Bridget and I would go play miniature golf fairly regularly but, being relatively poor teenagers with crappy jobs (when I met her she worked a couple days a week at a dry cleaners – and she hated it,) she decided one day that we should just steal the golf clubs and balls and then sneak on and off the course whenever we felt like it. Yes, that’s right, Bridget was a thief. Totally hardcore, I know, but with the exception of the occasional “Hey Mister” beer quest, this was about as dangerous as we got.
So we picked up the golf balls, started singing the mission impossible theme, and made our way to the car with the stolen clubs. I doubt anyone would have even cared that much but we got a good rush out of it. And I honestly can’t remember whether we used the clubs all that often or if we ever planned on returning them but since we kept them in my car they were certainly always good for a laugh.
I guess the lesson that Bridget taught me on this one was that if you want to do something but you don’t have the money, well then you just need to find yourself another way. Good thing she found photography rather than turning to crime.
Ray and I were so sorry to hear about Bridget’s passing. Even though much time has passed, in some ways it is only yesterday that all of our children were playing, doing Halloween, preschool, scouts….Please know that all of you are in