Love, Jane
an evening with Jane Goodall
A note to my readers:
Unfortunately, I have attracted toxic comments about my late daughter and about me as a mother. These trolls use “faith” to justify intolerance and cruelty. I swiftly removed this vile graffiti and had to close commenting on some posts. I am not surprised, considering what has happened to other grieving parents, Sandy Hook chief among them. I love hearing from you, so I am, for now, keeping comments open and this platform free. Join me in pushing back against bullies by expanding your own kindness and tolerance.
That said, I will be forced to curate and close comments if haters do surface. To protect my daughter’s memory. And to protect my heart.
May civility reign.
Two summers ago, a rumor surfaced in nearby Aspen. The good kind of rumor—in this case that Dr. Jane Goodall was coming to our small valley in the Fall to speak to students, meet with local conservation groups, and deliver a talk to the community. Dr. Goodall had long loomed large in our household, along with David Attenbourgh. They both influenced our eldest daughter, who wound up with a passion for the natural world and graduated with a biology degree from the University of Colorado.
When the date of her visit arrived and the rumor proved true, my husband and I were lucky enough to be invited to a dinner party in Dr. Goodall’s honor. But I asked our hosts if I could relinquish my spot to our daughter, Fiona so she could meet her idol. They graciously expanded the invitation to include all three of us, and Fi drove over three passes and through the changing leaves from Boulder to join us.
Before dinner, we mingled with other guests, most of whom I didn’t know. After a packed day visiting several schools in our valley, Dr. Goodall joined the small party. She posed for a few photo ops, then disappeared. I assumed she needed to catch her breath, especially at 9,000 feet. It came time to sit down, and I found my name neatly chalked on a round stone on the long farm-style table. I noted the names of my dinner partners on their stones. One was a staff member from the Jane Goodall Institute whom I had just met, and the other, simply Jane. I hadn’t met any Janes during the cocktail hour and asked Fiona, who was settling in a couple of places down, if she had met anyone called Jane. “Mom, that’s THE JANE. DR. JANE. “
My heart began to race. You know that parlor game where you list who would be at your fantasy dinner party, dead or alive? Dr. Goodall has always been on mine. A few minutes later, she surfaced and took her place at the table, apologizing for her tardiness.
“I wanted to thank the good people who are cooking our meal and how delightful that it’s also partially foraged!” So she wasn’t resting, just spreading gratitude and grace. I later learned she talked to everyone from dishwasher to chef, signed books, supplied autographs, and posed for pictures. That was her way.
She was a great listener, an eye-smiler with a bemused expression. She took small sips from a steadily topped-off whiskey glass, unfazed by the altitude. I asked Dr. Goodall if I could swap seats with my daughter, wanting Fi to connect with her, while suspecting that Dr. Goodall preferred talking to young people. I had one final question and hoped for an answer that would help restore some hope as a committed conservationist in troubled times. “How do you maintain your optimism? “
“I have to, we cannot give up, you know.”
And then she looked at me for what seemed like an eternity, assessing me, I suppose. Having a legend evaluate you like that is a tad unnerving. She then continued:
“But if your Republicans get back into power, the planet may never recover. We simply cannot afford more contempt for our planet.”
It was 2023, and the elections were still a stone’s throw away, but her sense of doom was right there, in the air between us. Dr. Goodall was renowned for being careful, for emphasizing love, wonder, and education over politics in order to reach a broad audience. But she dropped all that with me. She was eighty-nine after all, why not?
We pledged to stay in touch, then I swapped places with Fi, who had a magical evening talking about their shared love of biology and the natural world. Fiona also presented her with a gift — a grey hummingbird scarf I designed when I operated a small design studio.
The evening concluded around a campfire with a still vigorous Jane sharing stories, expanding on her love of dogs, emphasizing that we all had an obligation to our planet and its inhabitants, that we all had agency, in large or small strokes. That saving the planet should not be left to celebrities or billionaires. I was battling low-grade fatigue, the source of which I attributed to stress, so we retreated long before the embers and Jane faded.
A week later, a surprise arrived in the mail-a note from Dr. Goodall. This legendary crusader took the time to write a simple thank you for a simple scarf, closing with ”here’s to our next meeting! Love, Jane.” Love. Of course,
Two months later, we discovered the root of my lethargy — I was diagnosed with a rare cancer, and nine months after that magical dinner, our youngest daughter died. It took Dr. Goodall’s death for me to return to the light and joy of that evening. But now more than ever I relish Dr. Goodall’s message - that our everyday actions matter, not just towards the planet but each other. We have a choice.
After she died, this video went viral.
No doubt most of you have seen the entire Netflix recording with her excoriating comments on Elon Musk, to name a few. This portion of the video contains her spectacular parting message to all of us. If you haven’t taken the time to listen, do. It’s Jane, sending love.
I want you to understand that we are part of the natural world. And even today, when the planet is dark, there still is hope. Don’t lose hope. If you lose hope, you become apathetic and do nothing. And if you want to save what is still beautiful in this world – if you want to save the planet for the future generations, your grandchildren, their grandchildren – then think about the actions you take each day.
Because, multiplied a million, a billion times, even small actions will make for great change. I want to — I just hope that you understand that this life on Planet Earth isn’t the end. I believe, and now I know that there is life beyond death. That consciousness survives. DR. JANE GOODALL
Oh my gosh, I send huge support for you and your family, and wish for you a mighty wall of love surrounding you, to protect you and bring you solace from their misguided hate. Their hate is born from suffering from their own wounds and misunderstanding. Thank you for sharing Jane's final message!! We all need this. I keep remembering Pandora's Box and that finally when all of the hard and horrible things had come out... there was Hope emerging! We can't give up Hope. OXO
What a beautiful and warm memory and tribute! Love you all & your love for the natural world - contagious and SO important. Haters be gone!!!!!!