Born on Christmas day with flowing red hair, intense green
eyes, and a dusky voice, Jane was always ready for any holiday. Her mother was
an actress, giving her offspring a true sense of drama, and comedy.
Jane could walk into a room and her bright smile was incandescent. Her
Streisand-like nose was a topic of concern, but she was a great beauty.
We met in spring of 1976 when I lived upstairs in a Queen Ann-style grand dame
of a house we named; “La Maison Blanche,” converted into tall ceilinged
apartments. Jane lived downstairs with two roommates, waitressing for the
summer. She was a regular on the Elon University campus, with a wide circle of
friends because of her sense of humor, comic timing and empathy.
She met a close friend of mine that summer who had also taken an upstairs
apartment, and they were later married. BJ and I traveled many
weekends to their North Myrtle Beach home at the very north end, with the endless
dunes beginning only blocks away. We spent many lazy
afternoons overlooking the ocean playing dominoes and drinking Jane’s signature
frozen daiquiris, always laughing and feeling a sense that the moment would
last forever.
In May of 1983, we gathered at Myrtle
Beach for the wedding of a college roommate. On the afternoon of the wedding, I
drank too much champagne, and while running errands, spied a player organ like the ones that were always on display in malls those days. This organ played
loudly, and I made Jane sit on the bench with me, singing along while the
organ played Todd Rungren’s, “I Don’t
Want to Work, I Just Want to Bang on My Drums all Day.” That tune became our
theme song, our mantra, and we sang it to each other every time we visited or talked.
When our daughter was small, Jane came to visit in our first home; and we laughed
over youthful stories, while she held our child, making her
squeal with laughter. She was our collective memory, and could remember
details of events long after we had forgotten, and could tell stories as well
as any comedian. Being around Jane was just always a good time.
Over the decades, we lost touch, communicating through
Christmas cards, phone calls, and visits; but she was the
kind of friend you could just pick up where you left off, and we would laugh every time. I saw her last a few years ago at a funeral, and she was still
lighting up the room with her humor; now re-married to a fine new man, with a
new last name. Jane loved children, and
inherited an instant family with her new husband. She had become a respected Myrtle Beach realtor and community fundraiser at the local hospital.
We spoke recently on the phone, after I became aware of her condition. Ovarian cancer had taken its toll, and her time in this world was ticking away. I told her how much happiness she had brought to our lives; how much BJ and I loved her, and how we treasured every single memory. In her weakened voice, her only concern was about us and our lives. We never spoke of illness, but sang together, “Bang on the Drums,” and spoke of our shared good times and joys, and we laughed. Jane ended our chat with this comment: “there are many good times yet to come, Rod Cooper,” spoken in a voice that sounded like a thrown gauntlet.
Jane passed a few days later into the great infinity, and I know the
better angels have gently guided her through the grand mystery. I will forever remember her loving spirit, and yes indeed, dear Jane, there ARE many good times to come.
