It struck me that I never saw Jane run, dance or move quickly to grab something. Our relationship was like the Tortoise and The Hair; she moving evenly through the air and me zip zip zipping through the space.
The last conversation I had with Jane, a few weeks before she died.. we visited her for her birthday - a glamorous tea party that was to be at home, but due to complications was instead held in her hospital room. A very intimate and silly and celebratory afternoon with Jane holding court in the corner and requesting we each perform for her. The next day we were at the airport waiting for the plane to come back to Melbourne and Jane rang me - 'Hi Lemmy it's Jane (as though I wouldn't know)...' She asked me to look after Andrea (R) because 'she hasn't experienced.. you know.. grief before.' How Jane - looking out for her loved ones even then.. even now.
In our friendship Jane was not prone to raucous outbursts. At something hilarious or ridiculous she would rouge up with laughter and her eyes would tear up. She and Lemmie could easily get each other going.
When we lived together in Suzy's house in Derby St Semaphore, some bible bashers came to the door. Jane answered and handballed them to me. I pulled the door gently behind me whilst I cheerily moved them on. But the door closed shut and I had to (in front of the guys) bend down and call through the letter flap for Jane to let me in. I don't know why it didn't occur to me to go down the side way. Jane thought this hilarious and a sort of completion of the set up for her!
At her birthday party in hospital 3 weeks before she died Jane wrote us a gargantuan, rambling poem in which she enabled herself to navigate around the topic and form of Gina Rinehart to finally get to her destination of declaring her love for her friends in a few lines.
Never one for straight paths, our Jane.
We declared our love for each other in a blokey sort of way of 'Love ya.' That 'a' sound rather than 'oo' seemed.... more manageable for an Aquarian and a Cancerian friendship.
We did occasionally tell each other 'I adore you.'
Jane, always compassionate and nonjudgemental, demonstrated a mild moral outrage at my habit of turning up at a movie 10 minutes after it started. She explained that for her it was important to savour the whole event, the advertisements before the movie, the trailers for future movies, the opening credits, the feature, the closing credits.
Been finding you in my thoughts Jane girl. Trying to remember times we had together in all their detail as I tend my spring garden, take a shower, drive in my car etc. I wish you were still here so we could remember together. So I'm so thankful I can come to this blog and share with others at least and hope you're somehow here too. I keep having the Cohen song " I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel" cause we were there weren't we, too cool too late. You did love cool, well quirky cool. You dragged me to camera shops that sold weird distorting reality cameras and I still don't get it and I drag you to the top of Telegraph Hill in LA to pay tribute to a parrot called Connor and you don't get it cause you didn't see the movie but you come anyway. We had fun. We loved New York and our Craig's List share in Hells Kitchen with ... can't remember his name- old Queen who was a writer wannabe and you challenged him . I wonder if he ever finished his story. I guess you know now in your other worldliness. I remember the diners - gotta love a NYC diner. We went to Woodstock and lay under amber leaves in the fall with leftover disciples banging drums to mark the spot where something happened that made a difference. We loved the art and we loved being at John Lennon's place in the park and we were there with the conspiracy believers about the Twin Towers and the Church of memories and we were there together. There together and yet and yet..... The thing about you Jane Barton is I never new just where you were at. Imperious, then playful, then sad, then curious, maybe judgmental , taking the mickey, maybe just aware of the irreconcilable, hard to know sometimes. But I wish I'd treasured the time more and known I didn't have endless time to be in your space more...... I wish I could have said good bye. Love Jenna. XX
Are you listening? Can we talk? I miss your voice - sitting with you and Laura in the shallows of Semaphore Beach with Coopers planning the next ludicrous assault on the status quo on the comfortable middle classes, gossiping about politics, politicians and our shared circles. I came to you often when I needed help, a real conversation. I imagine you listening, laughing then telling me a story to help me step back for context. I miss you, Jane.
It struck me that I never saw Jane run, dance or move quickly to grab something. Our relationship was like the Tortoise and The Hair; she moving evenly through the air and me zip zip zipping through the space.
ReplyDeleteThe last conversation I had with Jane, a few weeks before she died.. we visited her for her birthday - a glamorous tea party that was to be at home, but due to complications was instead held in her hospital room. A very intimate and silly and celebratory afternoon with Jane holding court in the corner and requesting we each perform for her.
ReplyDeleteThe next day we were at the airport waiting for the plane to come back to Melbourne and Jane rang me - 'Hi Lemmy it's Jane (as though I wouldn't know)...' She asked me to look after Andrea (R) because 'she hasn't experienced.. you know.. grief before.'
How Jane - looking out for her loved ones even then.. even now.
In our friendship Jane was not prone to raucous outbursts. At something hilarious or ridiculous she would rouge up with laughter and her eyes would tear up. She and Lemmie could easily get each other going.
ReplyDeleteWhen we lived together in Suzy's house in Derby St Semaphore, some bible bashers came to the door. Jane answered and handballed them to me.
ReplyDeleteI pulled the door gently behind me whilst I cheerily moved them on. But the door closed shut and I had to (in front of the guys) bend down and call through the letter flap for Jane to let me in.
I don't know why it didn't occur to me to go down the side way.
Jane thought this hilarious and a sort of completion of the set up for her!
At her birthday party in hospital 3 weeks before she died Jane wrote us a gargantuan, rambling poem in which she enabled herself to navigate around the topic and form of Gina Rinehart to finally get to her destination of declaring her love for her friends in a few lines.
ReplyDeleteNever one for straight paths, our Jane.
We declared our love for each other in a blokey sort of way of 'Love ya.' That 'a' sound rather than 'oo' seemed.... more manageable for an Aquarian and a Cancerian friendship.
We did occasionally tell each other 'I adore you.'
Still do.
Jane, always compassionate and nonjudgemental, demonstrated a mild moral outrage at my habit of turning up at a movie 10 minutes after it started. She explained that for her it was important to savour the whole event, the advertisements before the movie, the trailers for future movies, the opening credits, the feature, the closing credits.
ReplyDeleteBeen finding you in my thoughts Jane girl. Trying to remember times we had together in all their detail as I tend my spring garden, take a shower, drive in my car etc. I wish you were still here so we could remember together. So I'm so thankful I can come to this blog and share with others at least and hope you're somehow here too. I keep having the Cohen song " I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel" cause we were there weren't we, too cool too late. You did love cool, well quirky cool. You dragged me to camera shops that sold weird distorting reality cameras and I still don't get it and I drag you to the top of Telegraph Hill in LA to pay tribute to a parrot called Connor and you don't get it cause you didn't see the movie but you come anyway. We had fun. We loved New York and our Craig's List share in Hells Kitchen with ... can't remember his name- old Queen who was a writer wannabe and you challenged him . I wonder if he ever finished his story. I guess you know now in your other worldliness. I remember the diners - gotta love a NYC diner. We went to Woodstock and lay under amber leaves in the fall with leftover disciples banging drums to mark the spot where something happened that made a difference. We loved the art and we loved being at John Lennon's place in the park and we were there with the conspiracy believers about the Twin Towers and the Church of memories and we were there together. There together and yet and yet..... The thing about you Jane Barton is I never new just where you were at. Imperious, then playful, then sad, then curious, maybe judgmental , taking the mickey, maybe just aware of the irreconcilable, hard to know sometimes. But I wish I'd treasured the time more and known I didn't have endless time to be in your space more...... I wish I could have said good bye. Love Jenna. XX
ReplyDeleteAre you listening? Can we talk? I miss your voice - sitting with you and Laura in the shallows of Semaphore Beach with Coopers planning the next ludicrous assault on the status quo on the comfortable middle classes, gossiping about politics, politicians and our shared circles. I came to you often when I needed help, a real conversation. I imagine you listening, laughing then telling me a story to help me step back for context. I miss you, Jane.
ReplyDelete