Goodbye, Joanie

I don't remember exactly when I first met her, but I felt the energy. She used to take my orders at Geppetto's, talk to me on the street, and wish me the best whenever we met. She bubbled, emoted and exuded at the upper reaches of the human broadcast range. I never gave a thought that she might have needed help, as I am, as most of us are, utterly distracted in our own self-centered petty-dramas. It takes a lot to get our attention.

This has got my attention.

She cared for so many of us, for reasons I don't fully understand but deeply appreciate. I say this in the present tense, for if I had opened my mind and heart more, I might have seen the signals of her well-concealed desperation. She was bright beyond reasonable belief, but always took care not to slap a slower person in the face with that fact. She always had time to listen. There's no doubt that she could party. I wish all of us could with the same attitude and zeal. We'd have less time to pound the environment with our unreasonable and unthinking demands. We'd be more human.

She looked at the Big Picture, but attended to all the little details that make people feel special. She was the glue that kept many of us in the Ashland Play aware of each other. She was a walking, talking, laughing, mocking, caring Institution. She was welcome everywhere she went, her presence lifted spirits and carved opportunity out of insipidness. Larger than life no longer lives. Damn.

Her one-woman play was cutting, witty and focused. Her brilliance, combined with a mountain of humor and satire, got the story told while the audience laughed with wide-eyes. That she felt she somehow failed because money was lost only underlines how our society values individuals. If you have a lot of money, it's cool. If you are scraping by, we tend to turn our heads and wait until your fortune resurfaces. If you are down and out, many write you off, as if you've contracted some extremely contagious moral disease.

She was so many things: Actor, comedian, fundraiser, environmental activist, artist and merry prankster were just a few. Whenever we met her only concern was what was happening with me. Within a blink we were both laughing, making light of the toils of the day, making room for a measure of mirth.

It was clear that Ashland doesn't have a building large enough to hold all those who mourn her loss. The service on Sunday was standing room only with many overflowing into the lobby and to the outside. The lesson seemed to be that we need to reach out more readily, hold that hand, get lost in a friendly hug, take time to listen, to care. The other lesson was that our mental health establishment needs more attention, a lot more.

Joanie told me what a thrill it was for her to be a delegate to the National Democratic Convention. Though she didn't mention it, I'm sure that her energy grabbed and held the attention of many of the participants, just as she did with so many of us here in Ashland. When she returned from Boston, she was firing on 12 cylinders, eliciting enthusiasm through her sparking eyes under the blinking protection of her large eyelashes.

So, to the radiant, powerful, funny, supportive, inspirational woman with the Big Hair…we will never forget you and anticipate a warm reunion when we next meet.

Goodbye, for now.