Jane Henkel, In Memoriam

Yesterday afternoon, while I was writing my "Ducks in a Row" post (see below), I learned that my good friend, Jane Henkel, died Tuesday night. Jane had liver cancer. If I remember correctly, she was 58 (and still working as a staff attorney for the Wisconsin legislature) when she was diagnosed. She was given two years to live. She way outlived the prognosis--she would have turned 66 on March 21.

Jane and her husband Jim were the first friends I made when we moved to Madison in 1976. Jim and my husband Steve had sailed together in high school, along with a third friend, Doug Tormey. The Tormeys also moved back to Madison that summer, and the three men bought an E-scow together and began winning many, many races. Jane, a consummate athlete, often sailed with them. (Was I jealous? Just guess! There is nothing quite as exhilarating as hiking out--leaning your whole body out of the boat, parallel to the water--on a sunny, breezy summer day, except maybe riding your bike downhill at 35 or 40 mph in western Dane County on a long and beautiful summer evening.)

When we realized that we were going to stay in Madison (we had come for a two-year post-doc) and bought a house on Sherman Avenue, with a backyard on Lake Mendota, the boat and the sailing program moved into our back yard. Jim and Jane were around virtually every weekend, and many Wednesday evenings, too, hanging out before and after races. And I couldn't begin to count the number of Friday evenings they came over for pizza and dominoes in those years. It was our regular Friday night entertainment. And the Henkels remained steadfast friends--to both Steve and me, and to our sons--through our divorce and afterward; of all our friends and acquaintances the only people able to accomplish this difficult feat.

Jane and I were in many ways very different. She was a quiet, private person, not interested in making the details of her disease and treatment public. She was extremely conversant with computers (during and after college she worked as a programmer at the UW Computer Center, and in the past seven years, she used the computer extensively to edit and make slide shows of her excellent flower photographs) but she would never have considered writing a blog! But she was my role model. Not only did she outlive a grim prognosis by many years, she understood that if you're alive, it's incumbent on you to live, and live fully.

After her diagnosis, between chemo treatments, she and Jim road biked through many (mountainous) countries in Europe, and skied and mountain-biked in Colorado and other western states. Jane continued to bike regularly on Wednesday nights until just a few years ago, when the combination of treatment and disease slowed her down too much to make the rides enjoyable. (But finally, I could keep up with her!) Still, she found other people to ride with on other days, and continued riding into last summer. After her retirement, she returned to playing music with others, as she had in high school, and began serious study of the recorder. (When I started taking cello lessons, we tried to play duets, but she was so much better than I that we had to give it up.) She attended recorder workshops and played in several glorious concerts in the Capitol rotunda. And she was a regular at the gym. The last time I saw her, in fact, was at our spinning (stationery bike) class last Wednesday. There was no way to know she would not be there on Monday, too.

Several people have offered me condolences today, and asked, concerned, how I feel. The truth is, I'm sad, but I feel pretty good. Even in death, Jane is a role model. I realize, now, that the end of life isn't necessarily the bed-ridden weeks, surrounded by long-faced family and friends, that I have imagined. It could be as short as three days. Because as Jane knew, you have to live until you die.