Aunt

Yesterday I lost the most incredible mother anyone could have asked for. She was incredibly bright (Loyola ’52 – psychology), stunningly beautiful, kind and compassionate.
Jacqueline Martin Fowler Mann raised me by herself, yet managed to provide above and beyond. Summer camp, trips, college; I wanted for nothing.
She was a stylish, sophisticated woman rarely wore anything that didn’t come from Bonwit Teller when she lived in Chicago and I Magnin when she lived in the Bay Area.
And this gentle minister’s daughter, who stood 5’1″ and never weighed more than 100 pounds in her life, could curse like a sailor when slighted or provoked. I was nine or ten when she was having an exasperating conversation with a customer service (i.e. complaint) clerk. When the woman snippily asked my mom to spell her last name she replied: “F as in F**K YOU… O W L E R!!”
Many of the students my mother taught – in one of the roughest neighborhoods in Chicago and one of the most affluent in San Jose – will say she was their favorite teacher ever. My cousins almost unanimously said she was their favorite aunt. She was an unconventional parent, whom I called “Mommy” as a small child, but “Jac” from the time I was 10 or so.
I loved her more than she could ever possibly know. And I already miss her terribly. Rest in peace, my beautiful mother. I hope to see you again.