A Tribute from Jana's Dad

I am Jana’s father, James A. (Jim) Pershing. As her father I often found guidance in the words and ideas of The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran. I especially found helpful the ideas that Jana came through me, but not from me and that my responsibility was to give Jana my love, but not my thoughts. There are two passages from Gibran on parenting that I tried to live up to as Jana’s father: our children “… are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself” and “You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.” I sometimes faltered in being Jana’s father shaking as I sought to aim the arrow straight in my bow.  As I steadied my aim and let go, I found gladness and deep felt parental love for Jana seeing her go swift and oh so far.

This beautiful memorial documents how much of significance and just plain enjoying life Jana packed into a shortened time here on earth. As my wife Patricia and I struggled with letting her go as a child, we came to marvel as to how fast and how far Jana journeyed. My regret is that I fear I did not tell Jana of my love for and pride in her nearly enough.

As Jana’s Dad, I knew her best from her birth until she graduated high school. She was a beautiful, sweet, and smart little girl. Jana was quiet but always taking in everything she experienced. She was deeply loved by her Pershing and Van Meter grandparents. She developed a few loyal friends within our extended family and at school and she was true to them. For me her most memorable and deeply embedded trait was her love for her younger brother Jim. She truly was akin to a second and loving mother to her brother. I know that when I tell people that Jana and Jim never quarreled or fought and that they will always be best friends, people either marvel or question my judgment. For Jim’s and Jana’s significant others and life mates, those that did best just accepted this special bond.

As an academician myself, I found particular pride in Jana’s scholarly accomplishments. It began with her being her high school valedictorian and on to graduating with honors for her master’s and doctoral degrees. Jana was a deep thinker, gifted writer, and competent researcher. She rapidly moved through the ranks of instructor, assistant, associate, and full professor, excelling in teaching. She was so young for these accomplishments. She set her academic goals, zeroed in on them, and bowled over all obstacles thrown at her. Her students that I met said that as a mentor she was tough, demanding, and fair.       

As academicians, Jana and I collaborated on a handful of externally funded research projects, publications, and consulting opportunities. They were joyful days and we both got tickled when we introduced ourselves as Pershing and Pershing or saw our names together on a publication.

As Jana and I both matured, we came to relish our marathon discussions and debates, mostly on political or economic issues. We frequently spent several hours on the phone and sometimes in person mostly agreeing but focusing on the edges of our arguments where we disagreed. Jana was a gifted debater and more times than not she swayed me to her way of seeing things. I will dearly miss our talks and yearn for her ideas and perspectives.

Over the past three months Jana and I often talked about issues of spirit, spirituality, and the meanings and purposes of life. As a realist, Jana struggled dearly with trying to understand life and death. We both read feverishly and tried to understand her disease and eventual death from that disease. We came to realize that we could not know of these things with certainty. We came to accept that life and death are one and what we needed to hold onto is our hopes and desires for the beyond. I shared with Jana my best understanding of death and dying as depicted in The Prophet: “Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, than you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then you shall truly dance.”

My dearest and sweetest little girl; sing loudly, climb as never before, and dance into eternity.

Love Dad