|
Eulogy for Jean B. Siri
Miller Knox Regional Shoreline Park
February 10, 2006
By Susan Prather
Most everything I was going to say has been said, so you are fortunate in that I’ll be brief. However, someone spoke about how Jean "faithfully picked up clothes for the homeless and delivered them "somewhere." I feel I have to address the issue of the clothes she so "faithfully delivered."
Jean used to bring them to us for Fresh Start. Bill and I lived in a tiny apartment and had no room to store them. We begged her to stop, but not Jean. Once she brought 15 bags, it was around Christmas time. We had no room. She said "PUT THEM IN THE CAR GIRL." And I did.
That night someone, thinking they were Christmas presents, broke a window, and stole all the bags out of the car. The next day, before we could get the window fixed, the car was stolen. When she heard about our car, Jean was sad and would say "Oh, GIRL, what a terrible thing..." but then she would fall apart laughing.
Bill said it was almost worth it to get rid of the damn clothes. Three days later, Jean had the nerve to show up with more bags of clothes. We almost died.
Do any of you remember or did you notice that Jean Siri never said goodbye at the end of a telephone conversation? When she was finished, she was just gone. That is how her death was. Jean was finished, she was tired and she was gone, off on that last great adventure. Jean had good life and a good death and we can’t ask for more than that.
I am honored to deliver the eulogy for my friend, Jean. I thank you Lynn and Ann, not only for allowing me this opportunity to pay tribute to Jean, but also for sharing her with me for so many years. I met Jean when I was 22 years old. She told me then that she thought I “might have some potential as a trouble-maker." Little did we know.
Jean Siri told it like it is and had a vision of how it should be. Gary Pokorny, former El Cerrito City Manager said that Siri “had the courage to tell those who elected her and those who served with her, what they needed to hear, not what they wanted to hear." Siri was not politically correct or careful about anyone’s feelings. She did not waste her time “being nice to be nice." Instead, she was effective; and she was effective until she died in her car on the morning of Friday, January 20, about to drive off to yet another meeting.
Those who were close to her were in awe of how much she gave to the causes she chose to champion. She gave us a model of how to turn passion into action for good. She had a commitment to justice that was like an act of love for the protection of her fellow man.
The many examples of her life in public service include her career as a Navy WAVE and her tenure at the Berkeley Lab, where she served, between 1946 and 1952, as a biologist in Medical Physics. In addition, Jean was a pioneering environmental activist, a persistent advocate for public access to East Bay parks and the eastern shore of San Francisco Bay and she was a long-time advocate for those among the working poor and homeless. Jean Siri was elected to the STEGE Sanitary Board, and later to the El Cerrito City Council, serving as Mayor of El Cerrito twice during the 1980s. Until her death, she was a member of the Fresh Start Board of Directors, a respite center for those among the homeless and working poor, and, of course, her greatest joy was to serve as a member of the East Bay Regional Park District Board of Directors from 1992 until she died.
It is difficult to talk about Jean, without talking about Jean and Will. Theirs was an inspiring partnership. Both were proud of their daughters, Ann and Lynn. Jean often spoke of her grandchildren, Erin and Ben Kimsey. She was so proud of you. She carried pictures of Ann and Michael’s horses. She loved and admired her son-in- law, Bob, especially his culinary abilities. And they all have many, many sweaters that Jean made for them, as she knit her way through meeting after meeting while “making trouble."Jean and Will were fun. Many times, especially in the midst of the Women’s Movement, I would hear someone ask Jean “What do you do?" Jean would stare at them for a minute and then say “I’m kept." At various functions, Will would often be seen with a “Hello I Am" name tag that read “Mr. Jean Siri," which drove Jean absolutely crazy. Jean and Will faithfully attended every community event, year round. They loved the 4th of July barbeque, Earth Day, and Jean always marched in the Martin Luther King Day Parade. Jean and Will always participated in the shoreline clean-ups and when it was time to pick up trash on Moeser Lane, Jean and Will started at Arlington and Moeser and worked their way down. They loved and served their community and always acted to make the world a better place.
As a member of the East Bay Regional Parks District Board of Directors, Jean attended every meeting and function. Jean and her dog, Babe, were every where! She especially loved those events honoring Parks District employees. Jean appreciated each and every person who works for the Parks District. One of her favorite stories about her early service on the Parks Board was the night the “Union came to call" at her home to discuss problems they were having. Will was shocked and couldn’t believe the number of people who were outside their home. Jean opened the door, invited everyone in, and listened. Jean was tough. Richmond Councilman Tom Butt said “I particularly admired Jean for her total irreverence toward anything in the way of her mission to improve the quality of life for everyone, particularly those who have the least. She proved time and again that you don’t have to kiss up to power brokers to get elected to public office and to be effective. She was an inspiration to me, and I will miss her greatly." Those power brokers did try to dine with Jean on occasion. Once in awhile one of them would call to set up a lunch with Jean. She always said “I wouldn’t eat with that bastard if I was starving to death."
Jean was equally hard on elected officials. Jean’s good friend, John Gioia remembers, as a newly elected County Supervisor, how he learned that lesson at a press conference. John was working on something that Jean didn’t like. At the end of the press conference, with all of the reporters surrounding him, Jean pushed her way through the press, and told John – poking his chest with her index finger to punctuate every word:
“I’VE GOT MY EYE ON YOU BOY." Pure Jean. I asked Bob Campbell for his favorite memory or conversation with Jean. He told me that it had to be the time a local person called to ask if he would talk Jean out of running for re-election on the Parks Board. Bob told the guy “Absolutely not," but didn't tell Jean about the call, because he knew the person wouldn't run against her. When Bob later read in the Chronicle that Jean was blasting a local mayor as "ageist and sexist," he called her to find out what was going on, and her comments were:
"Let them run someone against me. I told the press that if I had to have former Assembly member Bob Campbell and homeless activist and local trouble-maker, Susan Prather, push me around in a damn wheel chair to campaign, I was going to run, and I will kick their behinds."
Bob told me they both laughed so hard they were crying on the phone and he added, “Susan, she meant every word of it." Bob Campbell says that what he truly appreciated about Jean was her ability, unlike most people, to let the person she had problems with know about those problems directly and to their face. Bob said that if he heard her once, he heard her at least a dozen times, tell someone that something they were doing was stupid, self-serving, or she wanted to know who it was going to benefit, because it sure as hell wouldn’t benefit anyone she knew. I think we’ve all had at least one of THOSE conversations with Jean!
Women of my generation often think they were the “first" to do everything and do it all. That is not true because every generation has women of courage who led the way. Jean Siri, Lucretia Edwards and Barbara Vincent are three of those women of courage, passion and commitment, who lived what they talked and in doing so accomplished a great deal for their community.
We are here, in this beautiful park today, because of their work and commitment to preserving the shoreline for public access and enjoyment. Pt. Pinole exists because Jean Siri thought it so beautiful, it had to become a park. Jean felt Pt. Pinole was her greatest accomplishment and it was the one of which she was most proud.
Jean spent weekends walking “her parks." She walked at Pt. Pinole, Alvarado, and then went on to Pt. Isabel to visit Mudpuppy’s, and to sit on “her" bench on the hill, looking out at the Bay. After Jean moved from her El Cerrito home, all of the parks became her garden. That bench on the hill at Pt. Isobel became her sanctuary, as her own garden had been. A plaque hangs in our garden, a gift from Jean, that says “A garden is where your soul feels at home." The parks that Jean walked, and those that she visited, especially that bench on the hill at Pt. Isobel, is where her soul felt at home.
Jean worked to Save the Bay, she saved shoreline parks, she worked on issues of health care access, public health, aging, homelessness and housing. Jean worked on all of these issues and others, long before they were mainstream and “acceptable."
Years ago Jean Siri fought long and hard to monitor toxic emissions in minority communities and to monitor the increased incidents of cancer in those same communities. This was long before these fights were appropriately called the battle against Environmental Racism. She often took busloads of people who suffered from Chevron’s emissions in their neighborhoods, to the neighborhoods of those who served on the Chevron Corporate Board. Of course, they were “uninvited" and not very welcome in the safe, comfortable neighborhoods of the CEO and board members, as they picketed and sang. Once, armed with a proxy vote, Jean attended the Chevron Annual Shareholders Meeting. When she stood up to ask a question, Chevron President and CEO, Ken Derr, gaveled her down, stating “We all know who you are Mrs. Siri and we all know what you think."
A friend remembers Jean as one of my Mothers of the Bride. He said “I remember her so clearly on the day of your wedding. She was one of the happiest people there. She wanted you to share your life and dreams with someone special. She was delighted for you and Bill. She was so proud of your work and how you had gone way beyond what she thought could have been done. She lives on through you and Fresh Start."
Jean Siri, Fancheon Christner and I were members of the West County Gray Panthers. In the mid-1980’s, along with Gray Panther Convener and honorary Wild Woman, Art Schroeder, we began to work on the issue of homelessness. Due to our passion, persistence, humor, and always “in your face" attitude, an editor at the Oakland Tribune, Kathy Schutz, named the three of us “The Wild Women of West County." Soon the name “Wild Women of West County" was striking fear in the hearts of politicos and bureaucrats across Contra Costa County. We WERE “Wild Women" and we proudly lived up to the name.
As the “Wild Women" we made trouble everywhere, even when invited to appear on a talk radio program on a local Concord station. The program was not until 9:00 p.m so we decided to go out to dinner first. We went to a place that served a great shrimp scampi, loaded with garlic. We reeked of garlic drove to the radio station with the windows wide open! When we arrived, we were seated in a small booth with the host. That poor bastard, locked in that tiny room, with the three of us and our garlic. It must have been terrible. We didn’t feel sorry for him for long, though, because he let us know right away that he did not appreciate our trouble-making ways, and he did not like homeless people. It was not going to be a pleasant hour.
The program started and the host did a short introduction and expressed some very negative opinions about poor and homeless people, and us, too. When he began to ask us questions, we refused to answer. Without consulting or looking at one another, we would only shake our heads yes, no, and/or shrugged our shoulders. First, he made fun of us, intimating we were stupid and didn’t know we were on radio. When we kept it up, he panicked and kept saying “Help me out here, ladies." Fancheon always looked sweet and grandmotherly, so he directed his pleas to her. Little did he know she was really the tough one. When it was time for a break, he was angry, but did ask what it would take for us to start talking. Fancheon, giving him her famous “stern look" with those blue eyes, and shaking a finger at him, advised him to change his tune and stop making fun of us and the people we serve. When the program resumed, he was a better advocate for people who are homeless than any of us! I believe he even started an underwear drive. We laughed all the way home, still reeking of garlic, and again, with the windows wide open.
Another time we, as the Wild Women, might have caused an international incident. Thank God it was long before “Homeland Security" existed. We attended a friend’s party for Pakistan’s Minister of Agriculture. The Minister was fascinated by the name “Wild Women." He talked with us for a long time, told us we were charming, and then invited us to visit Islamabad as his guests. Never, never, ever, politically correct, we told him we would be happy to visit, under the condition that HE wear a burka, walk 10 steps behind us, and WE would drive up and down the main streets of Islamabad while smoking and drinking beer. He laughed and again, said we were “charming." The Minister took a special liking to Jean and admired her legs. He put his hand on Jean’s knee, just as Will came to join us. Will noticed the hand but said nothing as Jean pointedly introduced her husband. The Minister turned to Will and said “I would like to buy your wife," giving back a little of the treatment we had given to him. Jean was horrified --- and even more so when Will said, very calmly and with great interest, “What kind of offer are we talking about?"
Jean was many things and she was a complicated woman. Her public and private lives were very different. Jean taught us many lessons through her community activism, however, her greatest lesson is the one she taught us with great dignity, as she cared for Will during his long years of Alzheimer’s disease.
Will was at home for nearly 10 years, as that tragic disease took over both of their lives. Jean had help during the day but only during the week. She became Will’s nearly full-time caregiver. It was a very difficult time for her, and for Will. Many of us, her daughters, and her friends, suggested that she find additional help and asked, repeatedly, if it wasn’t time for Will to go to a care facility. Jean always said no. Once, and only once, did she let me know about a secret hope that she carried in her heart. Jean, while understanding the reality of Alzheimer’s and knowing that this was how Will would live out his days, Jean told me that she always had some hope that as long as Will was at home with her, there was a chance that her Will, might come back to her. In that moment, Jean taught me a lesson in love and loyalty that I will never forget. People like Jean Siri are important to our lives. In my life Jean Siri was my friend and the mother I should have had. She called herself my “mother, mentor and confidant."
Because of Jean, my life is not what it might have been. For that I am grateful, because anything else would have been too damned dull! She helped me, and I believe, she helped many of you, to see life and the truth from many different angles. Jean pushed all of us to become activists, to talk back, speak truth to power, to run for office, and, as she liked to say, “make trouble."
Jean Siri helped us to better understand the true nature of how we are supposed to treat and care for one another, simply because of our membership in the community. In addition, she and Will taught us that we share a responsibility to make the world a better place because we live in it.
Bill and I will miss Jean. Especially her early morning visits, banging her cane on the door on Saturday and Sunday, and that booming voice asking “My God, are you two still sleeping?" We were fortunate to be able to spend Christmas Eve with Jean and other dear friends and family last December. It was a wonderful time and now a precious memory. Jean and I always gave each other meaningful and fun gifts. Books, plaques, and cheap-mail-order jewelry from a place called “Lindenwold," which we called, “treasures from our family jeweler." (Don’t have that stuff appraised, Lynn, it just LOOKS good!) Last Christmas, I didn’t realize that Jean was giving me her final gift, which hangs in our kitchen. It means a lot to me and I would like to share it with you now:
“May the light always find you on a dreary day.
When you need to be home, may you find your way.
May you always have courage to take a chance.
And never find frogs in your underpants."
Farewell, Madam. I don’t know where you are right now, but I do know that whoever is with you is having a good time.
You are loved.
|
