Jane -- I've been missing you for years. I remember reddish hair, freckles on pale skin, a lovely smile and laugh, and how crazy you were about Clyde Coon. I have sweet memories of you and music. Lying on the floor in your room listening for hours on end to Edith Piaf and Puccini's La Boheme, talking about boys. Summer nights ushering for the Cincinnati Opera at the Zoo, seals barking, temperamental tenors from the Met, fun car rides with Bro Lloyd, Bob Ritz, and... Dick, the social studies teacher's son. Sorry I can't remember his last name -- dropped that marble -- but I remember the fun we had, and ALL of you are gone! At this moment, I'm the only one in that car who's still alive. WHERE have you all gone? What happened, Jane?
One of our last conversations, you said you had gone out to visit L.A. and the cops picked you up walking through Beverly Hills because no one ever walks there.
And your psychiatrist told you not to see me any more. What the hell was that all about? I've often wondered.
I hope you found some happiness before you left with no forwarding address.
I always loved you, still do. Bon voyage.
January 12, 2012
With apologies to Dick, we hereby bring you an UPDATE from Jim Martin, who writes:
I just read your remembrance of Jane Burt... It called up my own memories of ushering at the Zoo Opera, and the congenial group of regulars who went there. Jane's sense of humor added to the enjoyment. I think Dick Sininger was the one whose name you were trying to remember. I saw him last summer for the first time in about 45 years when he came to attend the Santa Fe Opera.
Cheers and good wishes, Jim Martin
SO...
I could correct what I wrote, but I stand corrected by Jim, and I love it. A nice example of how this website can make itself useful. Thanks Jim -- and thanks to Nick Ingram, for creating this virtual class reunion.
And thanks to Jane, and her sense of humor. This little misunderstanding is perfect -- it would work so well in an opera -- and it is so very Jane. Getting the last laugh on me. And Dick.
Sue Quist
Jane -- I've been missing you for years. I remember reddish hair, freckles on pale skin, a lovely smile and laugh, and how crazy you were about Clyde Coon. I have sweet memories of you and music. Lying on the floor in your room listening for hours on end to Edith Piaf and Puccini's La Boheme, talking about boys. Summer nights ushering for the Cincinnati Opera at the Zoo, seals barking, temperamental tenors from the Met, fun car rides with Bro Lloyd, Bob Ritz, and... Dick, the social studies teacher's son. Sorry I can't remember his last name -- dropped that marble -- but I remember the fun we had, and ALL of you are gone! At this moment, I'm the only one in that car who's still alive. WHERE have you all gone? What happened, Jane?
One of our last conversations, you said you had gone out to visit L.A. and the cops picked you up walking through Beverly Hills because no one ever walks there.
And your psychiatrist told you not to see me any more. What the hell was that all about? I've often wondered.
I hope you found some happiness before you left with no forwarding address.
I always loved you, still do. Bon voyage.
January 12, 2012
With apologies to Dick, we hereby bring you an UPDATE from Jim Martin, who writes:
I just read your remembrance of Jane Burt... It called up my own memories of ushering at the Zoo Opera, and the congenial group of regulars who went there. Jane's sense of humor added to the enjoyment. I think Dick Sininger was the one whose name you were trying to remember. I saw him last summer for the first time in about 45 years when he came to attend the Santa Fe Opera.
Cheers and good wishes,
Jim Martin
SO...
I could correct what I wrote, but I stand corrected by Jim, and I love it. A nice example of how this website can make itself useful. Thanks Jim -- and thanks to Nick Ingram, for creating this virtual class reunion.
And thanks to Jane, and her sense of humor. This little misunderstanding is perfect -- it would work so well in an opera -- and it is so very Jane. Getting the last laugh on me. And Dick.
SQ