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Jayne: Mom’s philosophy of ‘Isn’t life wonderful?’ a lovely legacy
By Greg Jayne
Published: January 6, 2019, 6:02am
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Mom would be happy. For me, for her grandson, for the essential role she played in a memorable family adventure.
We’ll get to that adventure in a minute. First, some words about my mother.
Maryann Jayne died Oct. 11 at the age of 81. She died after a relatively short illness, which might or might not be the best way to go; who can really say? But I am thankful that up to her final days, she was active and independent, living on her own and managing her affairs and venturing all over Portland by bus and MAX. And I am thankful that while she was in the hospital and still lucid, she had visits from relatives and friends and acquaintances near and far, to the point that she declared, “This is fun; it’s like a vacation.”
It was an appropriate end to a life that began in 1937 in Cut Bank, Mont., and was mostly spent in Portland. Sure, there were some side adventures. Like time as a stewardess for Pan American when the airline was at the forefront of international travel. And like the time when my parents lived in Houston and Mom taught at a school that had the children of many NASA employees — including some astronauts — when NASA represented the pinnacle of American ambition and innovation.
We all, of course, have our own stories to tell. And we all, of course, will die sometime. In that regard, my mother is not remarkable. But she was fortunate to have a son, her only child, who is a newspaper columnist, and writers tend to write. So telling you about my mom is a cathartic exercise for me; hence, this column.
Not that I will pretend to have any profound insights about life and death and parenthood, but a couple things stand out.
One is that Mom struggled for years with bipolar disorder, which can be debilitating but never came to define her. I am grateful for the doctors who kept her stable for the final decade of her life and made it possible for her to live independently. I also am grateful for the insight her condition gave me into our shared humanity and the fact that we all have struggles to deal with.
Another thing that stands out is the axiom that you never really understand your parents’ love until you have children of your own. I have come to understand — and appreciate — my mother much more over the years while watching my own kids grow.
Once, when I was maybe 9 or 10 years old, Mom and I returned home from some outing and, while hanging up her coat, she said, “Isn’t life wonderful?” No particular reason. She just thought it was the right time to express her guiding philosophy, a philosophy that led to her unending fascination with others. She would often say something like, “I met a woman on the bus, she’s 20 and from Pakistan and is going to Portland State and wants to be a social worker and works at Starbucks …” and five minutes later she would get to the point of the story.
A wonderful life
Which brings us to last week. Using some money received from Mom’s small estate, my 15-year-old son and I traveled to Southern California. We attended the Holiday Bowl in San Diego on New Year’s Eve to watch my alma mater, Northwestern, play Utah. And we attended the Rose Bowl on New Year’s Day to watch our beloved Ohio State Buckeyes play Washington. You might wonder how somebody who grew up in Portland became a Buckeye fan and, well, it’s a long story. Let’s just say I have been an Ohio State fan since I was 7, and my son has inherited that flawed gene.
So we saw Northwestern make a stirring comeback to beat Utah, and we saw Ohio State hold off a stirring comeback to beat Washington. By my count, I have watched 44 Rose Bowls but had never attended one, and getting to see Ohio State in my favorite sporting event in person was darn near a religious experience.
But that wasn’t the best part. The best part was driving around Southern California and hanging out for three days with Matthew, sharing the experience while being reminded that life is, indeed, wonderful.
Mom would be happy.
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