Wow! I never knew that!

I just returned from a celebration of the life of Jeannine Elizabeth Talley. I always knew that Jeannine was an amazing woman and I had a rough idea of her life, but, as happens when so many different people reflect on a life, I learned things about her I never knew. I imagine that acquaintances who knew only one facet of Jeannine’s life might have been gobsmacked.

To give the reader an Idea what I mean, here is an abbreviated outline of Jeannine’s life:

• Born Lakeland, Florida, October 26, 1937
• Graduated with BA in Music Education Florida State University (1960), piano and voice
• Taught music, travelled in Europe as a single woman, then oved to Los Angeles
• Received a Masters in Mythology and Folklore (1967) and a PhD in Germanic Languages (1977) from UCLA
• Learned to sail at 35, didn’t like how women were treated by male sailing instructors, started a women’s sailing school, Seaworthy Women in LA, sailed extensively around Catalina and Baja in a 31 foot wooden ketch, Esperanza
• Cruised around the South Pacific for seven years with sailing partner Joy Smith in the Banshee, a 34 foot cutter rigged sloop
• Published three books Women at the Helm, Banshee’s Women Capsized in the South Coral Sea, and The Lure of the Trade Winds: Two Women Sailing the Pacific Ocean
• Taught at UCLA and the University of Guam
• “Retired” to Florida
• Artist, watercolorist, fused glass jewelry maker and sculptor
• Musician, played piano, sang, played recorder with a local Florida recorder ensemble, taught piano and recorder in retirement
• Jeannine was politically active especially on environmental and women’s issues
• Survived by Suzanne Martindale, friend, partner and wife whom she met at an art show and collaborated with on fused glass jewelry and other work, and cousins Lynne, Alan, and Sara and a host of extended family and friends

I’m sure there’s a lot I’ve forgotten or never knew.

Many spoke at her celebration. There were several themes: “she taught me to stand up for what I wanted;” “selfless, she always asked how you were;” “when I expressed an interest in the recorder she volunteered to teach me;” “she was always so quiet, listened really well;” “Fiery! She wasn’t afraid to share her opinions.”

We all show different sides of ourselves depending on the context and who we’re with.

Jeannine and me

Jeannine and I were first cousins. She was the only daughter of my father’s only sibling, his little sister Annetta, eight years younger.

I was born in Boston when Jeannine was ten and living in Lakeland, so we didn’t know each other when we were kids.

She played with both my sisters, Carolyn, now known as Lynne, and Constance, known to everyone in the family as Connie. In 1944, my father sold the print shop and moved to Boston. At Connie’s funeral  (life celebration) Jeannine told a heart-rending story of losing her playmates when my folks moved.

My first memory of Jeannine was when I was thirteen and she was twenty three. My folks took me to South Carolina to see Annetta and Sammie  (Annetta’s second husband) and Jeannine was there.

Jeannine got stuck managing the teenager. She never complained, probably volunteered for it – a very Jeannine thing to do. For my part, I was completely smitten.

She taught me about the horses on Sammie’s farm, how to approach them obliquely from the side, how to talk in an almost whisper, always starting with their name, and how to ride. After taking me on some slow trail rides the first day, we brushed the horses and fed them and put the tack away. The next day Jeannine said “just grab the bridle, we won’t need saddles today.”

I remember galloping bareback across a field, fingers gripped on the mane as much as the harness, barely hanging on, and realizing that Jeannine had no intention of stopping at the three foot stone wall ahead of us. She and her horse cleared it by a foot or more and I put my head against the horse’s neck, hung on tight, and was amazed when we landed on the other side and I did not break my neck.

She was someone to fall in love with – fierce, fearless and fun. I had such a crush on her. In later years I told her I how I had adored her. She just said, “I know.” Then I tried to play it off telling her I was mostly in love with her car – an Austin Healy roadster in a light metallic blue, a car I still covet at seventy-five.

She said “That  thing spent more time in the shop than it did on the road. It sat so low to the ground I kept tearing out the exhaust system on potholes and frost heaves.”

Jeannine and I didn’t have much contact again until ’68, the summer I was studying theatre at Long Beach State. She was at UCLA then and invited me to a party. I have no idea how I got there (probably hitchhiked) or where there was (Bel Air?) or what I did that night. I just remember that Jeannine was annoyed with me, (probably worried when I was late) and nervous when her friends included me in their drinking. I was still under twenty-one and a little over-enthusiastic about alcohol. I remember she put me in a cab to go home and paid – I was a college student; I didn’t have any money and she wasn’t going to let her “Uncle Raymond’s kid hitchhike drunk.”

Over the following years I would run into Jeannine when she visited Lynne or Connie. Our conversations were always pleasant, but not long nor particularly close. Soon she was sailing the South Pacific and writing books about her travels. We had some phone conversations. I remember reading her books and I called her after reading Capsized in the Coral Sea, which just blew me away, still does, a frightening survival story. I talked about how she almost died and she talked about the technical details of cutting the mast away from the capsized boat.

We got closer after Connie’s celebration, talking once or twice a month, talking about her art, her painting and her work in glass. I sent her a couple of pieces I had written and she was very supportive. She also encouraged my woodcarving, songwriting, and building cigar box guitars.

I remember one conversation. “You’ve had such an amazing life! You sailed around the world. You have more degrees than you can shake a stick at. You taught in Guam. You write. You paint. You play piano.”

“Alan, it’s just a life. I did what I was interested in. That’s all. You’ve done amazing things too. You studied theatre, worked in consulting. You travelled and raised a family. I have enjoyed and am enjoying my life. You should just enjoy yours. It’s not a competition.”

“That’s good,” I said, “’cause if it was, you’d be winning!” We laughed and I was relieved. I will miss that laugh that just came busting out of my soft spoken cousin.

Leadership lessons from Jeannine’s life:

• Do what you are interested in. Not everyone has to be an adventurer, or a scholar, or an artist, but act on what interests you. There you will find friends and followers.
• Teach, prepare others to follow in your footsteps. This may be especially important for women and minorities, but it’s important for all leaders to grow the next generation.
• Enjoy your life. “It’s not a competition” Don’t expend any energy on what someone else is doing or has done. Perhaps you might learn something, sure, but your life, your dreams and accomplishments are what you can control. Be proud of your accomplishments, and follow your dreams.

I still stand in awe of my cousin Jeannine,  and I will miss her. My life was enriched by her leadership and her love. I’m not going to sail the South Pacific, paint, or play the recorder, but I am going to live my life to the fullest and I hope you do too.