"Good afternoon. My name is Ralph Kanz and I would like to thank you for joining in this celebration of the life of Jane Elizabeth Powell.

I first met Jane through my involvement with OaklandNews.com. The Oakland News was edited by another Oakland treasure: the late Jeannette Sherwin who passed away nine years ago. Jeannette had coordinated support for Jane during Jane’s battle with lymphoma, something Jane wrote of in her acknowledgements to Bungalow Bathrooms. Following her treatments and subsequent remission, Jane served as Jeannette’s deputy editor at the Snooze. Thanks to the two of them some of my own wretched writings were turned into somewhat readable prose. The two also shared a strong dislike for Jerry Brown, leading to their involvement in the giving away of donut holes prior to Jerry giving his state of the city address to the Chamber of Commerce.

In an article about Jeannette shortly after her death, a writer for the Chronicle described how people “praised her dedication, her clever writing, her lively sense of humor, wicked satire and ‘brutal honesty.’” These same words could easily apply to Jane Powell.

Jeannette did not approve of puns. After Jeannette passed, Jane honored her by writing one piece that contained NO PUNS.

Puns, Like from the piece Jane wrote on earthquake retrofitting homes: “Let them eat quake.”

I tried to think of a good title for today, and after reviewing some of Jane’s writings I came up with Between the Puns; The Life and Unvarnished Truth of Jane Elizabeth Powell. (Jane did prefer shellac)

In Jane’s work one is struck with what was between the puns. In her books and articles the titles and captions were usually puns, but between those puns was well researched and well reasoned thought.

In response to a question about being titled the Bad Girl of Bungalow Writing, Jane once said “It’s more politically correct than the other title bestowed on me by a house blog in Florida: ‘Bungalow Nazi.’ I suspect it has to do with the fact that I tend to be opinionated, and I don’t sugarcoat those opinions, like ‘Stainless steel is the avocado green of the 21st century.’”

Quoting another piece about Jane “Regarding her favorite floor covering Jane said ‘I'm pathetically grateful to anyone who is a fan of the linoleum book—apparently it was ahead of its time. Probably my favorite vintage pattern is the linoleum oriental rug—I'd probably have one in my dining room if they still made them! All the beauty of an oriental rug with no need to worry about spilled red wine or cat barf—what's not to like?’”

From Jane’s article titled Smart Growth,Green Building and Other Oxymorons subtitled What is GREEN about tearing down buildings?  Jane wrote:

 I love the word “oxymoron” because it has “moron” right there in the word. It comes from the Greek, and it refers to a pair of words that contradict each other, or cancel each other out, like “pointed (i.e., smart) foolishness,” “original copy,” or “lead balloon.” Or “smart growth” and “green building.”

She continued:

Today there is a lot pointed foolishness going around, particularly in regard to land use and historic buildings. Take “smart growth.” Who, after all, would be in favor of dumb growth? Smart growth, as planning consultant Eben Fodor has remarked, is merely the “planned, orderly destruction of the remaining natural environment.” Perhaps, as Ted Turner suggested, we should call it “less-stupid growth.” In my view, it will soon rest on the same trash heap as “urban renewal,” “festival marketplace,” “pedestrian mall” and all the other planning fads of the last 40 years. Yet every developer can spout the smart-growth party line about how the huge development he is proposing for your single family neighborhood (which will be called La Boheme or Allegro or something suitably “urban”) will prevent farmland being paved over elsewhere, at the same time that his company is paving over said farmland and calling it “Cottonwood Creek” after the trees that were destroyed to make room for the 4,000-squarefoot homes he’s building there on quarter-acre-lots.

Jane’s good friend Lori Hope, who passed shortly before Jane, also from lung cancer, was the author of Let me Live a book on how family and friends can best help those with cancer. Jane is in Lori’s book under the pseudonym of Monica. While dealing with the lymphoma, Monica was once advised to visualize green leafy vegetables and was offered a chard milkshake. This was pretty hard for the Pepsi and bacon loving Jane to consider, let alone consume or stomach. 

Lori introduced Jane on her blog as the “bad girl of cancer warriors” for how Jane dealt with the lymphoma. In that same blog Lori shared Jane’s piece Five Good Things about Cancer. Jane said “But all those who think this is going to be some cancer-is-a-gift-you-can-use-it-to-transform-your-life article can stop reading right now. Cancer sucks, and this is merely an attempt to look for the almost non-existent silver lining in the whole thing. After treatment and remission, I was horrified to discover that I had gained perspective and actually felt gratitude, but I’ve come to accept it.”

Jane and her brutal honesty will definitely be missed.

Just for the record the original quote in the Chronicle was “Stainless steel anything will be the avocado green of the 21st century.”

Hello, thank you all for coming to this memorial for my younger sister Jane.  Some of you I have never met, but have heard of many times from Jane.

At this point in a service, typically an invocation would be made, but Jane was not particularly religious so I will use this anecdote to show that her spirit lives on.

According to Wikipedia, in ancient times, Tau was used as a symbol for life and/or resurrection.  Karin and I know this to be true as we had a recent experience in Savannah, Georgia over Christmas that proved to us, that Jane’s spirit is alive and well.

Some of you will know this story, but most of you will relate to Jane’s pickiness when it came to food- Pepsi- never Coke, Miracle Whip- Not mayonnaise, the list goes on. There were some things that were allowed to mayonnaise but not many.

It started early in her life, about age 3 when she decided she did not want any of her food to touch any other food on her plate and my maternal grandmother, who was living with us,  bought her a ceramic divided plate.  Since, in good Midwest tradition, my father served us at dinner, Jane always got her food first. Getting her way was an early tradition with Jane that continued on.  When she came visit me, she would not drink the Coke that I had, we had to go to the store and buy Pepsi.   

I had come to take care of Jane in late April, and she had a craving for a bacon and lettuce sandwich- no tomato, because of the seeds, a lifelong aversion.  I thought the bacon was a little marginal, belonging to one of her housemates, but I cooked it for her, put on the required Miracle Whip and took it out to her on the deck.  She rejected it because the bacon was not crispy enough, but I said I was not going to re-cook it since it was covered with Miracle Whip and she could break off the pieces that were not cooked to her liking.  She then reopened the sandwich, and complained that I had not put Miracle Whip on both pieces of bread.  I was angry, because I had been waiting on her hand and foot for a week, and was tired of her demands that I thought unreasonable.  Ralph was sitting on the deck during the whole episode and he thought it was pretty funny. 

Maybe not so funny later when Ralph bought some gourmet, sugar cured bacon, with maple flavoring , which unfortunately was completed rejected.  This led to a rise in bacon jokes, Harry said they were making bacon flavored ice cream in Alameda and offered to bring some over and we learned that there is bacon flavored Vodka. Khalisi later learned that cheap bacon, first cooked and then microwaved met the bacon standard that Jane had set.

After the stress of a difficult Thanksgiving, and the emotions surrounding Jane’s death, Karin treated herself and me to a massage at an upscale Westin Resort in Savannah, Georgia at Christmas time.  I was waiting for her in the quiet room, following my massage, and picked up the book called Inspirations- a journal for people to write about their experiences at the spa.  It fell open to a page where I saw the question- What is the meaning of life? And in caps with 3 exclamation marks- the answer was BACON.  So I knew that Jane’s spirit was with us.

And I further knew that her spirit was with me when I saw -after a few more comments “ about bacon being the meaning of life at the very bottom of the page—another comment- Amen to that, sister!!  So I know that Jane is in hog Heaven at least and that her spirit lives on.

Dear Jane,

As you would say so eloquently, this totally sucks.  I know that you feel cheated..........that you just wanted to have a nice life and work on your house.........also your words when we sat together in March. I am so sad this cancer is going to take your life so soon Jane. I simply wanted to take this opportunity to share what I have been thinking and feeling.

First and foremost, I know that you know how much I love you.  We have lived in Oakland together for over 20 years and have shared good times and bad.  I know that you and I are very different in our styles and in our approaches to life.  And yet, there has always been great respect and understanding between us.  When you die Jane, I will miss you.  You will leave a huge hole in my life.  I have learned much from you and will treasure those lessons always. This includes everything from how to choose ceiling paint  to your views on politics, to how to make the best deviled eggs on the planet and how to  rebuild a porch.  You are a unique and special person Jane.  I didn't always agree with you, nor did you agree with me, but I always felt heard and respected.

One of my fondest and most recent memories of you is your coming to visit me in Indiana.  I loved that you fell in love with my cat Dailey and I can still see you picking him up and holding all 18 pounds of him in my kitchen.  I also remember our going to Lake Monroe for a warm and wonderful swim and then getting in my car with all of the windows down and listening to loud rock and roll.  I can still hear you yell "PARTY" like we were adolescents getting high again.  We never got high together, but on that day, it felt like we had. You liked my house and especially the kitchen cupboards even if you did think the cabin was a bit cutesy. So typically you and I am so happy that you came to see me.

My very first memory of you is of my family's visit to your family when you lived in Indianapolis. We were pretty young.  I remember the house on North New Jersey Street and the big entrance hallway into your house.  We all played four corners together.  That memory is etched in my brain as if it were yesterday. When I arrived in Indianapolis (Brown County) four years ago, I went to find the house immediately.  I remembered it almost exactly as it was.

When Mark and I moved to California in 1984, your Mom and Dad welcomed us with open arms.  So did you and Mary.  I remember all of us living there together and then of course, your folks welcomed Renee as well.  I was taking a shower one morning and asked you if you wanted to peek behind the shower curtain to take a look at the 7th wonder of the world.  And you said "Oh sure, I look behind the curtain and wonder what the hell it is".  I also have fond memories of going into your bedroom to wake you up to show you that I was brushing my teeth.  You hated that but it did not stop me. You and Mary dressed my brother up as a girl for Halloween one year and he looked totally fabulous. And your Mom had so many house guests at one point that she made coffee in a 30 cup urn. 

I remember incredible family gatherings both in Los Altos and up in Oregon.  We did so many fun things together as a family; sled riding, bowling on Christmas Day, swimming at N & P's, Nelson singing "addicted to love".  We had a great time together as a family Jane.  We were so lucky to have those times and I will never ever forget them and or forget your Mom and Dad.  They were both such lovely people.

And then there were the birthday gatherings with you, me, Janice, and Mary and the scathing and funny cards we gave to each other. Do you remember the place we ended up in San Francisco dressed in tight pants and wigs??  I knew you were horrified and fascinated at the same time. We all piled into one cab to get out of there I remember and you and I rode the train back to Oakland.  What a bizarre night that was.  And then there was the White trash birthday party with lots of bacon, bacon and more bacon and the chicken cooked on a beer can. We have worn big hats, sunglasses, big red plastic lips and a host of other get ups through the years. We were a class act all of us. And we had the goddess party one time in Rockridge when we all dressed up in our finest Goddess garb and ate everything with our fingers.  Anyway, we shared lots of belly laughs over the years.

I am so glad you encouraged Marco and me to buy the Rockridge house.  You helped with light fixtures, picked out paint colors and helped with a myriad of other house repair questions and issues over the years. Thank you for all of that Jane.  Buying that house was one of the best things I have ever done in my life.

And so, I want you to know that your memory will live on inside of me Jane.  I know that is a small consolation prize when you are about to lose your life as you know it.  I drew some Tarot cards for you this past Sunday and in the future card you drew the Fool.  The Fool is one of the most joyful and playful cards in the deck.  It is associated with the number zero or the void.  "Out of nothing comes everything".  I do not pretend to know what happens to people or their souls for that matter when they die, so I will spare you from any discussion of that.  What I know is that I love you, that you are important to me, that I will always remember you and that I will miss you terribly.

Lastly, I remember that we had a debate one time about how to spell scumbagette.  I am going with my version, like it or not.

Love Always,

Your Scumbagette Cousin Lee

Here is what I learned from my Aunt Jane.  I learned that often less talking about what to do and more doing what needs to be done is in order.  But still that one must debate, but one must also not dawdle to take action. I learned to be confident in my opinions, to charge across airports, to not always use the tool one is supposed to use for a job, but to use what will get the job done to your satisfaction.  I learned that life is too short to not go for it. If what you want to go for is to make a house beautiful that had been neglected, to write books in a style never seen before, to dress up a mannequin who scares everyone you know, to collect things associated with your hobbies, and many that you just think are cool, then do it.  Jane has taught me that we cannot wait to start a project even if that project involves tearing things down, crawling around in old basements, or persistent letters and phone calls. We cannot be afraid to start.

Jane  learned to live in the moment, and that laughing at silly, even totally THE MOST tacky things you can find is totally acceptable.   EXTREMELY  hideous, she would say, I love it. 

Just after her first battle with cancer we were on a drive to Oregon.  I was usual me, all business.  It should be a six hour drive, we had already left late, dinner is at six, will we make it…these were my concerns in the back seat while Jane enjoyed driving her PT Cruiser and chatted with a friend.

Suddenly in her lecture voice or even her angry voice, Jane announces” we are stopping.  The thing I have learned from cancer is that I can have ice cream whenever I want to.”  Immediately I was annoyed, we were in the mountains and could not call ahead to prepare anyone for our tardiness. But sitting in the sunshine looking at her smile, her double scoop melting as she talked on about the tacky souvenirs in the little mountain gift shop that made her laugh.  Well we’ve all had that moment with Jane, she brings it out of us, where the world stops and all that matters is who and what is right in front of you, where we realize, there ARE peaceful moments. There is sunshine on the deck at the Bungamansion. There are tiny kitties we love, There are small comforts amongst all the chaos and wrong in the world.  Sometimes a scoop of peppermint is all it takes. 

I learned that sometimes you need to “go with the flow”, literally I translate that advice verbatim – that is what she wrote to me in the cover page of Bungalow Bathrooms naturally of course, “Karin, may you go with the flow”  in your life.

Still sometimes I am all business and over analytical just to annoy her but also to help her. Because a fighting resilient spirit was another thing Jane shared with us.  

“When life gives you lemons, throw them back.” She said. And indeed when she had a negative turn she used that energy to launch her legacy. Writing six books, and restoring eleven homes, on top of the thousands of construction details, overly detailed and properly decorated rooms, consulting without fear of not being able to solve all problems, overanalyzed but perfect paint choices, and the many faucet or window, or trim, or fixtures- she swept in to give insight and actionable repair plans  that she peppered through out the United States. 

In cleaning out Jane’s files, many which are humorously labeled – for example “Mortgage Crap” and “More Mortgage Crap”, and electronic files too – that picture earlier of her famously lying on a luxurious rug was titled “moi on a rug”, “moi with little Fred”, etc etc.  Anyway I found a file documenting all the letters and meetings she’d been pushing to make the Charles Dickens Fair “more authentic”.  It seemed like an older file maybe from the 80s even, so her persuasive writing began then.  One letter, I believe to the event board of the time, started out “Let me tell you why your incompetency is ruining the Dickens Fair…”  It made me smile, as I’ve heard plenty about various protesting, and evil empires - one day in fact I got a letter of my own - I came home after Jane had visited me in Boston and found in the crack of my desk, she’d left me an essay on why I needed to restore the historic windows in the house, she’d done a cost analysis of new windows versus restoring the old ones and also how I could get the city council to make it a requirement in our district, etc etc. and why it must be a priority and I would be incompetent home owner if I chose any other path. That also made me smile, and I realized Jane had thrown back more lemons in this life than I’d ever know about.

Jane taught me to use bold words and rally kindred spirits around you to take on something you believe is worth fighting for.

Jane taught me to love and be loved, one is vulnerable.  Jane thank you for letting us laugh at you, for laughing at yourself sometimes, for making us beautiful things. Thank you for sharing your snarky sarcasm, for being different, for loving odd things – even squirrel underpants and scary Betty.  Thank you for sharing your strengths and encyclopedia head amount of knowledge.  What will we do now that we cannot simply ask Jane?  

Jane, Thank you for loving us and letting us love you, we are forever changed from your lessons and your presence. 

But even in our darkness of our grief, everyday joy remains, and I hope you will all think of your own joy as I read this poem and this poetic excerpt from one of Jane’s books:

 “Last but not least, I want to thank my parents, Nelson and Peg Powell, and my two sisters, Mary Enderle and Nancy Klapak. From them I learned the most important things in life: love, friendship, laughter, learning, and food. All these things are best served in the kitchen. I also learned from them that family is not just about relatives, and I am grateful to have an extended family, not only of aunts, uncles, and cousins, but also a family of friends. To me their friendship is beyond price. And, of course my life would not be complete without my feline companions…A bungalow requires cats and possibly a cat requires a bungalow.”  - Jane Powell.

After Jane died there was a butterfly at the Bungamansion and around. The second poem:

"While Waiting for Thee"

Don't weep at my grave,

For I am not there,

I've a date with a butterfly

To dance in the air.

I'll be singing in the sunshine,

Wild and free,

Playing tag with the wind,

While I'm waiting for thee.

Julie and I had asked some friends and colleagues to write us some fond memories of Jane and we wanted to share those with you. We will start with one from Janet O’Dea.

We met in San Diego through the “Save Our Heritage” Organization when she stayed at our house for the Arts and Crafts weekend.  At one point my husband & I were driving Bungalow Bob Winter and Jane to one of the events and had a lively conversation.  Allen quizzed Bob about his kitchen and he claimed Jane would not approve.

Jane was fun to be around and after the events we would go out or stay up late and talk for hours.  Mostly from then on, when Jane came to San Diego she stayed with us and wouldn't you know it, when Jane was here my toilet wouldn't flush.  Not exactly a dignified discussion but basically Jane threatened me that she would not visit us any more until we got our toilet fixed.  

Of course, we took care of it right away but we still have not replaced it.  Then there was her kitchen remodel.  After she was busting my chops about the bathroom, we went to stay with her during the San Francisco show and she was in the process of coming up with her own kitchen remodel. At the time she had about six other projects going on at the house and was running ideas past us on how to get the job done-- which I found priceless.  

She lost her cat when we were up there for that trip. She loved her kitties so. Instead of putting us off, she sought the comfort of her good friends and invited us along. She said that she felt better after our evening.

We loved her style, her loyalty, her profound goodness and quick wit.  We loved her books, her lectures and her willingness to share her knowledge when it came to supporting the preservation of wood windows or old buildings.  

None of these little monuments are extraordinary events in Jane's colorful life, but for us, as we laughed at our situations together and found so many areas that we had in common, dealing with developers who were intent on challenging our beloved historic communities, we forged a bond and a real appreciation for what all Jane did to courageously inspire others.  We will miss her puns and snarky comments.  We will miss her. Rest in Peace Jane they broke the mold after you.

John Brinkmann of American Bungalow Magazine wrote:

Alone with her thoughts, Jane Elizabeth Powell would probably like the moniker “The Bad Girl of Bungalows”. Depending on how you define “bad girl” there can be truth in that designation. Jane was full of her own fire and on her own course. You could see the fire in her eyes when you talked to her, burning ahead of your thoughts.

Not everyone was able to recognize the peaceful, caring energy beneath the flames of moxie and feist. Jane spoke her mind. The language she spoke was unfettered authenticity and her passion was preservation. She spoke her mind in many books.

Open the pages of one and you will feel Jane’s energy burst forth to meet you, one step ahead of your thoughts.

____________________________________________

Jane’s Secret Admirer, By Mark Novakowski

On the cover of Jane’s Bungalow Kitchen paperback edition is the kitchen of Larry Willits. When I lived in Seattle he was my mentor professing the same messages found in Jane’s books.

I had suggested to Jane that she should meet Larry and to photograph his kitchen, which he restored in line with Jane’s philosophy of “how to do things right”. She did meet Larry and there were several photos of his kitchen in the Bungalow Kitchen book. He was so moved that his kitchen was immortalized he couldn’t have been prouder! This probably is the case with all of the people that have had their homes included in one of Jane’s books, but this is not where Larry’s feelings stopped! It was astonishing to me that he was so smitten after only the few hours that he had spent with her at his house, but I guess that’s how these things happen.

Whenever we spoke there were always questions that one might ask before taking some bold romantic step. But that step never happened for reasons that lie secret in Larry’s heart.

I was with Jane a couple of months before she left us. I told her that I had recently spoken with Larry about her state of health. His voice had been strained with anguish and his words were those of someone that had deeply cared for her. I told her that Larry was pretty upset and that he had said how tough you were and how grateful he was for your words that he had always intuitively lived by. They were two peas in a pod.

I said, you know Jane, you should have married Larry! And in that flat matter of fact retort that can only be delivered by Jane, she said, “he never asked.” We both laughed.

Tom Knechtel, who has known Jane since their first day as freshmen in high school (he remembers that she wore a Sgt. Pepper button and had beautiful red hair!) wrote several fond memories he had about Jane:

Jane made beautiful clothes when we were in high school, often giving them as gifts to her friends. She insisted that velvet was a fabric that should be worn in everyday use, as it was gorgeous, and she snorted with contempt at those who suggested that people with red hair should never wear reds or purples. Jane graduated from high school a year early during a time when that was rare; she was quite clear that she was not going to stay in institutional learning for one moment longer than was necessary. The world was waiting!

A particular memory of Tom’s was Jane’s founding of the Oogmick Rites, a dedication to a healthy love of bad taste. As part of this, she gave me a bath rug I admired in her home, depicting a poodle prancing in front of the Eiffel Tower, with "Do Your Own Thing!" written jauntily underneath.

Tom also remembers Jane's wonderful laugh, and her unique voice, which could be heard through cement walls. My partner Bob and I took her to a Persian restaurant, where the decibel levels could get quite high, and Jane's voice cut through the din like a hot knife through butter. When she wasn't using her voice as a power tool, it had a charming, slightly growly resonance almost like a smoker's voice, which was ironic. I've been saving a message she left on my answering machine for months, as I can't reconcile yet to not hearing that voice again.

___________________________________________

Maggie Ford experienced this moment the day Jane died:

This morning when I woke up, I looked over at the embroidery that Jane did for me for my wedding gift 35 years ago. I took one look and then looked away, but something made me look back and just admire that piece of her art work. Then later, just reading the post…I thought ah-ha…I think she was passing by to say so long………So long, my friend, peace be with you. I will always think of Jane and smile.

To wrap it up, in my copy of Bungalow Kitchens there is a perfect inscription to me

 “My advice is never to have a mashed potato fight in a Bungalow Kitchen” Your loving sister Jane