by Bonnie A. Romeo

Tennyson wrote of his pain at the passing of his friend. That poem, filled with melancholy and despair, resolves with an expression of hope and joy at having known someone so generous of spirit, so wise, so compassionate. That poem freed Tennyson from the hopeless sorrow at the passing of so great a friend. Surely those who met Jane, knew Jane, loved Jane, must now endure their own sorrow at the passing of so great a spirit. We all feel what Tennyson described as "The quiet sense of something lost (LXXVIII, 1.8).

Jane Vest was a simple, unassuming woman. You may have passed her on the street, walking along, enjoying the company of anyone she met on her journeys. For her, all people had stories to tell, experiences to share. At one time, Jane met Amelia Earhart and Nelson Rockefeller, talking with them as easily as she talked with us. Jane conversed easily with the famous and powerful, the stranger on the street, the children visiting with their parents, friends of her daughter. She took time for everyone. She spent hours with children who were just learning to read, sharing her love of the discoveries awaiting them in every book.

Now we reread Jane's columns, rediscover her respect for life, her love of the community, and we are reminded of the bright smile, the wit of this wise, honest woman. Her perceptions, freely shared even with an artist who altered a painting to match her vision, taught us about the value of truth and the wonder of ideas, while reminding us of the beauty of each rose in a tender gathering of blossoms, the gifts of friendship.

Editor's Note: Watch for reprints of Jane Vest's column in future editions of the Community Press.