Jane - She'd Be 93

Jane, about 5 months old

Her engagement picture

This post is for our dearest Mom, Grandma Jane, Great Gramma,
Here is the text from the eulogy that Trisha prepared and we all her kids contributed to. I thought it would be good to remember her each year on her birthday with stories and songs and love. I know it's a bit early but D and I are about to travel. Love to all -S

This is from Trisha:

Our house was raucous—vibrant with music and laughter and art projects. Now it’s true that much of it came from our dad, but the core was really always mother, Jane. One way to know that singing was a part of us, was that we had three dinner-time rules which mom instituted: “wash your hands for dinner,”  “scrape it, rinse it, and put it in the dishwasher,” and “no singing at the dinner table.” And each of these could actually be sung: testimony to our mom’s deep sense of rhythm and pitch. And she could whistle. Slick as a rancher with ranch hands: she could call us all in from blocks around. We knew her call.

And she had a beautiful singing voice which she’d break into at morning, noon, and night. You could hear her singing upstairs making beds or downstairs throwing in a load in a rich sure alto. (You could hear Dad, too, but his singing came mostly at night.) She sang us songs she learned from her daddy: “Oh, Peter he was wicked, I asked him for a ticket,” and from the romance of her teens: “When the deep purple falls,” and from the musicals of the fifties and sixties: “Take me along if you love’a me…” This love of music, this infusion of song carried into all of our lives. Still does. There has not been a birth, death, wedding, funeral, or baptism, for that matter when we didn’t sing. Because of her.

The art poured from our house through the veins of Jane’s arms. She painted our portraits when we were little (and big), bribing us to get us to sit still for a half hour or so when necessary. She took classes in water color and portraiture finding a mentor in her beloved George Straub. The amazing thing, I think, about her paintings and sketches  is that you can actually see her, you can see her hands at work even through the finished piece. Maybe that’s we treasure her work so. Maybe that’s why we all—even her grandchildren—have a painting or two on our walls.

Mom had an active mind—a voracious reader, an avid arguer, a mean Scrabble player, a daily crossword puzzler, and one not afraid to ask questions of the usually pat answers: “I’m not sure if I believe that!” I’m not sure, however, if she was exposing a doubt, or just getting us to question, to be inquisitive.

You can read the travelogue of her about her early accomplishments. But recently she told me a little story I’d never heard. While in Tomahawk, she’d been given the lead to the first grade play, and then got the chicken pox,  and had to stay home for a week while she recovered, and was shocked beyond belief to find out that the role had been given to someone else when she returned. They gave someone else her part?! She knew she was star-material.

She had a great sense of humor and could be self-effacing. Jane was sometimes called Sharon Jane for a misstep in buying a dress for Sally when she was in high school. She’d gotten the monogram SJR for Sarah Jane Ricketts, then she looked aghast realizing that she’d purchased the dress, and it might not fit Sally, then she couldn’t return it, then what would she do with the dress? She said, “Well, I’ll just call myself Stupid Jane Ricketts and wear it.” We told her we could just call her Sharon Jane Ricketts instead. I think Sally actually wore the dress.

Mom ate with a vigor—con mucho gusto—not realized by most. Even into our teen years, mom would be at the end of the table, having eaten her entire dinner, and say, “Whatever you’re not going to eat, pass it down here.” And she’d eat like a truck driver probably due to the enormous energy she needed in raising six kids—five girls in seven years! And then Bob, the cherry on her children parfait.

She was really something. She taught us our prayers and to have faith in ourselves. Each night we’d pray for “Sally, Susan, Trisha, Florence, Kathleen, and Bobby.” So I’m going to leave you with some passing thoughts from each…in our birth order.

 

At Naomi and Aaron's wedding

This from Sally: After our dad, Bob Ricketts, died in 1987, I was privileged to find an amazing and wonderful new relationship with my mother. She became my best friend. As it turned out, mom had a sharp wit and a great sense of humor which had been overshadowed by our father's ebullience and charm. [Mom and I had many conversations over the years and we visited often. She kept saying every trip to PNW was her last but the last was actually in 2009 when she made it to Katie's wedding.] Jane was full of love, wisdom, and generosity lavishing all of us with gifts all the time. That is quite a legacy. She is my mentor who taught me how to live and love and be generous, how to question everything, how to wonder, and how to let go. I loved to hang out with her and just be. We talked or not, took naps, ate meals, read, read the paper while she did the crosswords, discussed books and watched movies. [Just being with my mom or talking to her on the phone was a comfort and a joy to me.] She called me Angel and Sarah Jane, and I call her blessed and dear.

This from Susan: I am the sole survivor of the Friday morning book club—phone call exchanges we had—and I will treasure our sharing authors and books for the rest of my life. She loved to study: art, literature, people and characters. And what a straight shooter! You always got the truth from Mom. I loved sharing time with her and delighted in her wisdom and sense of humor. Though there will be no “Cookbook by Jane,” she did give me the recipes for an excellent and rich life: always tell the truth; give often and generously to those you love and the causes you believe in; keep in touch and spend time together; appreciate the finer things in life: good food, art, literature, your children; be industrious; have a sense of humor especially about yourself and love, love, love. I am so lucky to have had this mother; her words ring in my heart and her fabulous art works grace my walls. She is and always will be so dear to me.

This from Trisha: I can remember being a very little girl and it was summer and I had taken the risk of walking across Lincoln Avenue to go to Chandler Park all by myself. When I got home, I worried that I might be in trouble, so I told her what I’d done. She looked up from darning a sock (I am not kidding!) and a smile broke out over her face and she said, “Good for you, Trisha!”  Take risks. Be brave, eh? About two weeks ago, when she was in the hospital with pneumonia, I asked her if she was afraid. She said to me. "Oh, no…I look upon my death with joy." A little shocking, isn’t it? When I asked her if she were praying, she said, "Oh, yes.” And when I asked her what she was praying, she said, “I’m praying for courage." Her prayer was answered. She was courageous through and through and she sent us that message from childhood ‘til her last breath.

This from Chin: What a gal!  She was elegant and well put together. She had a great sense of style. She always took care of our needs. I am thankful we had a long letter relationship where we shared so much. She told me how much she loved getting these letters. [Mom was always there at all the big events and parties.] A teacher of songs. Strong and brave, a good traveler and woman of courage. She shared all her gifts with us, her talents and her way of seeing the world. She will always be my teacher.  Being called to her side for those last few hours of her life I witnessed her courage to the last, her beautiful last gift. I am privileged and blessed to have had Jane Florence McHenry Ricketts Tiernan as my mother. 

This from Kathleen: Mom was so generous. She gave me her Buick! And when Steve & I had the opportunity to go to Europe the summer of '72, it was Mom that talked Dad into lending us the do-re-mi. They also lent us the money for the down payment on our 1st house. Oh, and, I love that Mom let us play outside all the time. I love that Mom always encouraged us to color & draw & sing & dance. 

I remember performing a song & dance for Mom at 2819 & of course I thought I was great & I asked Mom for her opinion & she said, "That's good for your age". It would be a phrase repeated often.
Mom made the best gravy on the planet! And how about that creamed curried salmon with peas! Silly huh?

This from Bobby: Jane.Mama.Mama honey. I think it took thirty years, but I finally beat her at Scrabble. She never showed any mercy even when I was only 10. "You'll learn better that way" was how she put it after another shellacking. She was right. Learn I did. Because of her I learned about life, music, art and something that one would not think about her: patience. She always seemed to be moving through whatever the situation at hyper-speed (“aren't you better yet ?”),but she realized that sometimes the long wait was necessary. With me it was the long road to find the love of my life, my wonderful wife. Mom loved Senja as much as any of her own children, I can tell you this because Senja felt it too. And being with Bob Ricketts for 40+ years, you gotta know patience !
I spent her last week with her, and those moments will always be dear to me. She even sang to me "Kansas City" from Oklahoma ! ! Still remembered all the words! I was going to play and sing for her, but did not because I knew I would start to cry. I knew there would be time for that. Thanks, Mom, you made us all better people.

And, so, even though she always said, “I’m going to let you go” after a conversation on the phone…the solidity and love lingers. She was so strong, so beautiful, so talented.

Mom, we’re never going to let you go.

Mom's Memorial, a grand event