Friends That Stay with You: Alums on The Enduring Power of their MMC Connections
Of all the things MMC alums have found at 71st Street—career paths, new passions, mentors, a sense of belonging—there’s one joyful discovery that has often been key to unlocking all the rest: friendship. We asked alums to share the big and small moments that led them to their lifelong friends and chosen families at MMC and how those bonds continue to thrive 15, 20, or even 60 years later.
When Alison Manning ’08 started her freshman year at MMC, she felt like a fish out of water. Though drawn to the city to pursue dance, she was, at heart, a farm girl from Northern Vermont, more accustomed to woods and winding country roads than crowded streets and high-rises. “I went to her family’s house a few times in college, and it was an actual log cabin with a stove in the middle to heat it,” said her friend and classmate Elizabeth Yilmaz ’08. Adding to Manning’s sense of disorientation, she couldn’t travel home that January; she and Yilmaz were the only first-year Dance majors accepted into the MMC Dance Company and needed to spend J-Term on campus.
Manning remembers how Yilmaz found her curled up in bed, watching The West Wing and knitting because she was so homesick. “Liz walked into my dorm room, shook her head, and said, ‘Get up, you’re coming with me.’ She got me up and out into the big wide world of NYC.” Before long, Manning was in better spirits, and the two were joined at the hip, visiting each other’s homes on holiday breaks. “I remember the feeling that I got from Alison, that she’s this kindred spirit who’s kind and loving,” Yilmaz said. “I always felt good around her. When you move as a freshman to New York and start dance school at a high level of training, you’re lucky to find someone like that.” Twenty-two years later, they’re still best friends, having lived together, traveled the world together, and stood as bridesmaids in each other’s weddings.
They’ve also worked together. Manning is the co-executive director of the Harkness Dance Center and director of the Harkness School of Dance at New York City’s 92nd Street Y. She encouraged Yilmaz, a longtime Metropolitan Opera Ballet dancer, to join as faculty. Last year, the 92nd Street Y also collaborated on an event with Art Bath, an art salon series Yilmaz cofounded. Moreover, the two women have teamed up to give back to the College: Manning was president of the Marymount Manhattan College Dance Advisory Board and recruited Yilmaz to serve as a member. “Alison is very good at identifying people’s strengths—she’s been one of the first to see strengths in me that I hadn’t even seen yet,” said Yilmaz. For Manning, the appreciation is mutual. “I tend to gravitate towards working with very dear friends of mine,” she said. “But as I keep telling everybody, that’s because they all happen to be geniuses at what they do.”
How they stay connected: Because Yilmaz and Manning share mutual interests and belong to the same small New York City dance circle, they have an easier time than most with staying in touch. Still, Yilmaz subscribes to a rule of thumb that’s been helpful with all of her friendships: Send the text. “If you think to yourself, ‘Oh, I should check in, I should send a text—just do it. We get one life, and being present for people and showing up is what it’s all about,” she said. She’s also a big believer in embracing small moments, like grabbing coffee, as well as those big scrapbook-worthy ones. “Alison and I are both very busy people. She has four children and is the director of a program. I dance professionally, run a business, and teach. But carving out that time, even to walk our dogs together in Central Park for an hour, is important.”
Though Marilyn Parra ’03, Carly Jara ’03, and Natalie Bannon would room together for just one semester at MMC, it was more than enough time to spark a special bond. “We immediately became like sisters,” Bannon said. “The bond was just instant—I don’t even know how to describe it.” Jara had recently transferred into the College and joined Bannon and Parra in MMC housing on Roosevelt Island, or Rosie as students called it. Right away, they seemed to balance each other: Bannon, the sweet, introverted Georgia peach; Jara, the bubbly extrovert from Jersey; and thoughtful Parra, who fell somewhere in between. With enviable views from their apartment that looked out onto the city, they would hold dance parties in front of their window at night. During the day, they helped each other navigate New York, sometimes with hilarious results. “Natalie had never taken the bus before, so I swooped in to show her, and we all hopped on together,” Jara remembers. “We ended up going far out of our way, into one of the outer boroughs, and had to turn around. We always had little funny incidents like that.” On a good day, though, they’d sit on the bus together, sharing a discman and singing along to Destiny’s Child.
How they stay connected: The trio had planned to remain roommates, but Bannon fell in love and moved to Tennessee, where she worked in TV news, and eventually settled down in Nashville. Though nothing could replace her, Jara and Parra brought in a houseplant that they named in her honor. “They called me Natilda, though I don’t know where the nickname came from,” Bannon laughed. “It was just something Carly randomly made up. Then the name got shortened to Natild, so the plant became Natild, too, and they would send me pictures of her.” Over the years, and through disasters like 9/11, they stayed connected, forming a group chat on social media and writing letters, which Jara was a big advocate of. Jara even visited Bannon in Nashville. But they wouldn’t have a full reunion with all three women until last October, which Jara hosted at her Dobbs Ferry apartment. It was the first time they had been together in two decades. “We’d been talking about it forever and finally decided to make it work,” Jara said. “I forget who came up with the idea of going to Rosie, but we took the tram over, found our old building, and did our old commute to Marymount. We couldn’t believe we did that every day!”
For Bannon, it was proof of how enduring their bonds are. “I was worried things would be awkward after all this time, but they weren’t,” she said. “It was like, no time had passed whatsoever. It was like going right back to the year 2000.”
In fact, it worked out so well that they’ve decided to make their reunion an annual affair. Next month, they’ll all travel to Bannon’s home in Nashville.
“You can live down the street from someone, but hardly see them because everyone’s schedules are just so crazy. Everybody has their own lives,” Jara said. “But it’s important to keep in touch, and these sort of get-togethers makes it a hundred percent fun and worth it to keep up that connection.”
The longtime friendship between Kathleen Edwards Austin ’65 and Jane McCormick ’65 almost feels predestined—if not written in the stars, then at least in the streets of Flatbush. Both women grew up in the storied Brooklyn neighborhood: Edwards lived on East 48th Street, while McCormick lived on East 46th Street. Their older sisters were good friends. And, flanked by a bevy of siblings and neighborhood pals, they would walk a dozen blocks to the Catholic grammar school they both attended. Years later, they would repeat that ritual as students at the same local high school.
While Edwards and McCormick hadn’t planned to attend MMC together, it was hardly a surprise that they did. Under the watchful eyes of the Religious of the Sacred Heart of Mary, the College’s founding order that operated the school at the time, they would spend another four years side by side, becoming more like family than friends.
Edwards, who became godmother to McCormick’s daughter, thinks fondly of their days on 71st Street. Though they were rarely in the same classes—Edwards majored in Math and Economics while McCormick majored in Communication Arts—they took the long subway ride to Brooklyn and back together, participated in College events like Sing, an entertainment competition between classes, and on the days that Edwards had lab, often grabbed lunch and the occasional drink with friends at a nearby Italian restaurant. (Thanks to the drinks, “Lab would sometimes be a lot of fun,” Edwards recalls.) When President John F. Kennedy was assassinated, they flocked with classmates to the chapel to pray the rosary.
How they stay connected: Today, both women are in their 80s and slowing down a bit; Edwards is also helping her husband recover from a recent stroke. That means connection looks a little different than it has in the past. “We used to see each other with another friend from our grammar school days,” Edwards said. “I would drive us into the city. Since my husband had the stroke, I think that that might’ve worked out only once, which is unfortunate, but it’s part of life, isn’t it?” Still, she adds, “email and texting are a wonderful connector.” Most of all, she feels gratitude to have had a lifetime of friendship with McCormick and other classmates who feel more like sisters. “Those friends that we’ve gone into adulthood with are very important, very precious,” she said. “And Marymount provided a wonderful environment for us to mature in. We certainly did have a lot of fun.”
Published: October 23, 2025
