Jeannette “Jeanne” Duque died peacefully in her home on Tuesday, June 9, 2020. Jeanne was born in Syracuse, NY on January 2, 1921. Her husband, David Duque, preceded her in death. Jeanne missed him very much.
Jeanne is survived by her daughter, Teresa Duque Raley; her grandson, Jason Duque, and his wife, Carla Corral; and three great-grandchildren, Lilia Charlotte, Sela Milagro, and Ezekiel Tomás Duque.
Jeanne grew up in Ithaca, NY, with adoring parents and two adored brothers. After a honeymoon that took her on a pack trip in the Sierras of Baja California, she lived the rest of her life in Los Angeles, Solana Beach, and Ventura. She and David continued a life of adventuring and hunting in Mexico, fishing wherever they could, examining the lives of birds, and studying trees and flowers. Whenever possible, and almost always, surrounded by family and friends.
It turns out she hated the beach. She didn’t like the sand or the water. She went anyway, because what else was she going to do?
Jeanne was known for her independence, her humor, and her “Yankee ingenuity,” all of which were essential for getting through a variety of scrapes, big and small. Those closest to her knew her fierce love for her family and her ability to make almost anything fun. A child of the Depression, Jeanne could make do with whatever she had at hand. She could fix anything, too, from toilets to roller skates to a shirt with sleeves too long.
Jeanne taught herself to cook, leaning on the expertise of Gourmet magazines and The Joy of Cooking (which was her first gift to loved ones on the verge of adulthood). She taught herself Spanish, too, by listening to people and old rancheras. Jeanne learned to paint watercolors. She also learned to paint walls. She carved wood. She played guitar. She used dowsing rods to find water. And to find quail. She cleaned fish. She found and refinished discarded furniture. She grew gardens.
Jeanne did not suffer fools, gladly or otherwise. But if she sensed real suffering, she would quietly take your hand and love you through it. Jeanne didn’t keep quiet much. She’d tell you, like or not. If you didn’t get it at first, she’d write a poem about it for you. She commented on your beauty and your style. Her jokes were off-color. She wrote long letters to the headquarters of various companies, as often to appreciate as to complain. They often wrote back. She saved the letters.
Many, many people knew about Jeanne’s poetry. She wrote poems to celebrate, to laugh, to grieve, to scold, and sometimes just to notice and make sense of things. Her shelves and binders overflowed with poems. She wrote them weekly for whatever groups she belonged to. She published a small book of them. She could never explain how the poems happened. They just did.
Jeanne loved clouds and rocks and old things. She also loved milk chocolate peanut butter cups and macadamia nuts and dressing fancy. She loved jigsaw puzzles, too, especially during her years in Ventura. She sometimes worked on more than one at a time. She dreamed about them. By her own account, they were the substance of her private conversations with God.
Jeanne was the best Gram that ever lived.
The family wishes to extend deep gratitude to the staff at Ventura Townehouse and especially the loving caregivers from Oakhurst Hospice.
Instead of flowers, please remember her by donating to The Cornell Lab of Ornithology at birds.cornell.edu.