For Mom: Remembering Jane Hunt

My mother, Jane Amelia Henry Hunt, passed away recently. There are so many people whose lives were touched by her, and so many different versions of Jane that existed in the memories of those who loved her. She was a mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, wife, artist, advocate, traveler, mentor, and friend. She collected people, created beauty wherever she went, and built a family that extended far beyond those connected by blood.

I have been trying to find the right way to honor her. The closest I can come is to write to her.

Mom, 

There are so many things about you that made me proud over the years. Granted, there have been many moments when I was less than proud, such as when you went around after a basketball game and proceeded to eat any found popcorn that you encountered, but we will not focus on those now.

Kayaking in Dabob Bay

I have always appreciated your creativity and love for art. I remember when you volunteered at the school library at the Lincoln, Massachusetts  Schools and made the bulletin boards for them. I remember the funny titles you put up there, and I was so proud that my mother had done that.

Jane and Jim and the 4 kids. Top left to bottom right - Jennifer, Priscilla, Sarah, Nathan

You had a real eye for art. You enjoyed taking classes and creating things, and your yard was filled with found-object sculptures that you made. Your house was full of art of a wide variety of quality, from two-year-old scribblings to museum-quality oil paintings. You made room for all of it. For many years, you volunteered as a docent at the North Carolina Museum of Art, sharing your love of art and your ability to see what was interesting and beautiful in the world.

Puzzels were a favorite group activity at family gatherings

You instilled such a sense of fighting for your children, making sure that they could get what they needed. Fighting to get me into Red Cross swimming classes in Syracuse, even though I was under their age requirement. Fighting to get Nathan the appropriate schooling by moving him to Ravenscroft. I carried that spirit into my own parenting, and I see that it has passed on to Rivers. Your mother always said that it was terrible to see your faults passed on to your children, but even worse to see them in your grandchildren. You should be pleased to see the good things that you have passed to your grandchildren.

Jim and Jane

I am grateful for your desire to seek out people and make them part of our lives and our family. You were a collector of people. When we lived in London, we lived in a small flat, and one day you came home with a young woman you had just met in the library. She lived in our attic closet for a few months.

Jim and Jane again

Later, there was a string of North Carolina State University foreign students who lived with us, many for years at a time. Each one of them, and their families, was absorbed into our family, enriching us all with their love and experiences. You and Dad attended graduations and weddings, often standing in as their “American parents.” You held on tight to relationships, maintaining family ties even as people moved away or got divorced. Once you were part of Jane’s family, it was permanent.

The three sisters and Eleanor, their mom. Left to right, Barbara, the oldest, Sally and Jane, the baby of the three.

You gave me a love of travel. Your trips often came from opportunities that arose, or from supporting someone else in their needs or interests. Once, you drove with Chung to Canada on a necessary visa run. You went to London and India and South Africa and Mexico to support Dad in his Mahatma Gandhi studies. You showed me that travel was not only about going somewhere new. It was about being open to the world, to other people, and to whatever opportunities came along.

At the 90th celebration. This was an attempt to copy a family tree, Jane at the top, her 4 kids, their spouses, their offspring, and the various other relatives. It was better as a concept than in reality.

When I set sail on Rhapsody ten years ago, I told you that you were not allowed to worry, that I would be fine. You told me that you had adhered to that. You trusted me, and you did not worry. Knowing that made it easier for me to sail across oceans and halfway around the world. It was one more way you supported me, not by holding me back, but by trusting me to go.

Preparing to leave Rhapsody on a rainy day in Tahiti

I am so glad you were able to visit us on Rhapsody, in the British Virgin Islands, and again, on your ninetieth birthday, in French Polynesia, visiting both Tahiti and Moorea. I have memories of exploring Papeete, and snorkeling around the anchorages and playing scrabble in the cockpit.

You were known for extreme frugality and overwhelming generosity.  You did not believe in spending money unnecessarily, especially on yourself, but you were endlessly generous with your time, your home, your energy, and your love.

A picture you were very proud of.

I appreciate your passion for justice. I speak proudly of having participated in “circle parades” in Syracuse, as I called the fair-housing protests when I was five years old. The experience was enhanced by the singing of “We Shall Overcome,” which was all great fun for a five-year-old. Your protests over the years, including getting arrested during the Moral Monday protests at the North Carolina Legislature, have been such a wonderful example of standing up for what is right. The charges were eventually dropped, but the wonderful mugshot remains.

The iconic blue mailbox

Josh Shaffer was one of the many residents of 120 Pineland Circle. He is a reporter for the local newspaper. He wrote a very nice memorial piece about you. You can read it here. 

I have enjoyed playing music with you over the years. Thank you for all your support of my love of music. I remember trading vicious, sometimes bloody, games of Double Solitaire in exchange for recorder duets.

Playing the Bandersnatch in a family interpretation of the poem Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll

Your competitiveness showed itself in games and sports. I was an avid swimmer early on and always wanted to race you. You would always win. Finally, at age fourteen, I beat you one time. You refused to ever race me again, leaving the final score at 10,000 to 1. I wonder where my competitiveness came from. You played tennis well into your eighties and had a fine tradition of nightly Scrabble with anyone you could lure into a game.

So much of my thoughts and actions are still filtered through you in my mind. Would you pay for this? (Probably not) Would you like this? Would you be proud of this? Your voice, your standards, your humor, your generosity, and your stubbornness are still very much with me.

I think some of the best advice from you was by example. Fight for what is right. Stand up for your children’s education. Don’t spend too much money. Travel whenever possible. And, less by example than by philosophy, go barefoot when you can.

I love you, Mom, and will always be grateful for what you have passed on.

For everyone who knew her: I would love to hear your stories and memories of Mom. Please share them in the comments, or send them to me directly. I know there are countless parts of her life and love that I have not captured here, and I would be grateful to gather them.