I don't know what happens when people die
Can't seem to grasp it as hard as I try
It's like a song I can hear playing right in my ear
That I can't sing
I can't help listening
And I can't help feeling stupid standing 'round
Crying as they ease you down
'Cause I know you'd rather we were dancing, dancing our sorrow away
No matter what fate chooses to play
There's nothing you can do about it anyway
Keep a fire for the human race
Let your prayers go drifting into space
You never know what will be coming down
Perhaps a better world is drawing near
And just as easily, it could all disappear
Along with whatever meaning you might have found
Don't let the uncertainty turn you around
Go on and make a joyful sound
~ Jackson Browne
Today would have been the 70th birthday of my dear friend JoAnn. She's been gone nearly 17 years already, two years before I lost my husband Pete and three years before my best childhood friend Peggy. It would be an understatement for me to recall those years as full of sorrow. "For a Dancer" has long been the song I've associated with that time period, so it seems appropriate to call it up today. It has always been a song of healing for me. As Jackson said, "It's a sad song, but at the same time, it feels good to sort through that reality and touch base with it, and then go on."
"For a Dancer" appears on the 1974 release Late for the Sky, arguably my favorite Jackson Browne album, although I have never liked picking favorites when it comes to music. Jackson wrote it after the death of his friend Scotty Runyon, who died in a house fire. Scotty was a dancer, an ice skater, and a painter, among other things. (Although many people have believed that this song was written for Jackson's wife, her suicide occurred two years after the song was written.)
JoAnn, at age 53, died of a heart attack, precipitated by a broken heart that none of us knew how to help her heal, not even her adored children, who, in their mid-teens, suffered unimaginably from their loss. It is consoling to know that JoAnn would be so proud of the kind and loving adults her children are today, but I cannot help but revisit my sorrow whenever I see pictures of her grandchildren and consider what she and they are missing.
I met JoAnn in the late 70s when she joined the English Department at the high school where I'd been teaching for a couple of years. I remember well the day she sat in our office being interviewed by the Department Chair. She was smart, she was sophisticated, and she was stunningly beautiful. Her eyes disappeared into slits when she laughed. I was immediately intimidated. But when the new school year began the following fall, it didn't take me long to fall in love with her. She became my hero. And then she became my best friend. That friendship survived beyond our teaching years together as we became mothers, navigating the confusing and demanding job of parenthood. Our daily morning phone conversations helped me survive those years. Were she still alive, I suspect we would still be engaging in those morning conversations. I will forever miss her.
This post is for JoAnn's children, Francesca and James. I love you both.
Into a dancer you have grown
From a seed somebody else has thrown
Go on ahead and throw some seeds of your own
And somewhere between the time you arrive and the time you go
May lie a reason you were alive
But you'll never know
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