Birth date: Jan 23, 1926 Death date: Sep 29, 2019
Jane Cook Hollis, born in Tyler, Mo January 23, 1926, died in Columbia, TN September 29, 2019.She was predeceased by her husband, Johnnie O. Hollis and is survived by her son, David O. Hollis (Tammi Dyar Hollis) of Santa Fe, TN; a Read Obituary
A thoughtful and caring person whom I came to know through her daughter who fortunately has inherited these gifts from MJ. May your tea in heaven be a sweet reward for your service here on this earth. I’ll always think of you as I drink my tea and prop my feet. Rest In Peace.
Tony and Patty Letchworth
Mama Jane was extraordinarily generous with her love for others. She was exceptionally good at making children feel special and, long ago, I was lucky enough to be one of those kids. I was born to a different family and marriage brought her to me when I was pre-school age. But you’d never guess that– because she made me feel like I’d ALWAYS been her grandson.
Life had taught her that “family” can mean a lot of things. Family can come from anywhere. Family can be born, but it can also be built. Family can be cobbled together with mismatched stones from faraway quarries, each with its own distinct grain and texture, to build a structure that is strong, resilient, warm, and feels like home. She was a gifted stonemason in that regard.
She loved poetry. She read it and wrote it, and enthusiastically supported my attempts to create it.
She fostered my love for photography and taught me how to use my first real camera (a gift from her and Papa John).
I loved our time together, especially as a kid (even more so on vacation), because she was always willing to play and explore with me, and she seemed to truly enjoy following my curiosity wherever it led.
My favorite memory (and perhaps most illustrative of our relationship) is when we all drove, then hiked the rest of the way to the top of a Colorado mountain. It was snowing by the time we reached the top and we decided to try our photography skills by capturing a snowball in flight. We took turns throwing snowballs at each other and snapping shots–hoping that one of them would succeed but couldn’t be certain until the film got developed.
I’ll be damned–it worked. We developed the film and there was a single clear shot. It showed Mama Jane laughing amid the falling snow, her arm extended in-throw, with her snowball–frozen in flight–coming straight toward me and the camera. Looking at that photo, you’d never guess we were 50 years apart in age. I was just a kid, but she knew how to be truly present with me in that moment–she could see the world through my eyes and join with me in the joy of that experience. She is a rare gift, and I’m grateful to have walked a small portion of this life’s path with her.
