Jane Perry was my friend. She was my mentor though she would not accept the title, so humble and gracious was she, so insistent to turn the spotlight away from herself. Jane was my musical collaborator many times over the years. Jane was a beautiful soul.
I met Jane in second year university, when I was given her name as an accompanist to hire for my recitals. Jane was quiet and unassuming, played piano like a beast, had a gentle smile, and knew all the stylistic information needed to coach me in the various eras and genres of music I was tackling. She was also the first person to tell me “you are an artist, you get to make decisions about how you perform a song.” She gave me agency at a time when I felt 100% like a student who must obey orders and do what I was told and only what I was told. She nudged me toward trusting my own voice, my own artistry.
I hired Jane for every exam and performance for the rest of my university career, which meant spending dozens of hours in rehearsal together each semester. After my undergrad degree I moved away for a year, then returned to Ottawa to do a masters in musicology. Jane and I reunited musically, recording a Christmas album as a gift for my parents when I was newly pregnant and very nauseous. Jane was, as always, patient, so kind and funny, and able to improvise a Vince Guaraldi-esque version of O Christmas Tree upon request. There was no one else like Jane.
Around the same time Jane got me a job as the children’s choir director at the First Unitarian Church where she was the music director. It was there that Jane gave me advice that shaped the rest of my life. I was so convinced I needed to work towards a classical performance career and that my artistry would be validated through professional gigs with world-class ensembles. Jane, literally one of the most talented classical musicians I have ever known, seemed deeply content with her musical work at the church and with a couple Ottawa community choirs. No splashy names, no international travel, no glitz or glamour. I must have been telling her sometime about feeling unsure of where I was headed and whether or not I would succeed. She told me I could be a professional musician anywhere, using my skills and passion with any community group, and that it would be success if it made me happy. No one else had ever said this to me, and it shaped my entire life from that moment forward.
Jane showed me a life that was calm and settled and filled to the brim with artistic light and joy. She showed me I could have the musical career and the quiet lifestyle I was aching to build with my family.
When Jane announced she was leaving Ottawa to move West I had an outsized feeling of loss. The church had a goodbye celebration for Jane, for which I was to prepare the musicians. I managed to do it, but once my part was over I became a tearful puddle and had to excuse myself from the rest of the service. I left the sanctuary and went into the music office, found a piece of paper and pen, and wrote Jane a note to apologize for making a scene and for leaving the service. I wrote that she was my mentor and so incredibly important to me - things she was completely unaware of - and that the reality of her leaving was too hard for me to experience in a public setting. I wrote that I would miss her more than she realized, that she had changed my life. That was the last time I saw Jane in person.
In the 12 years since then we kept in touch across the distance. We even recorded a Christmas song she composed, her at a studio in Calgary and me at Newcomb Studios here in Harwood. (I shared that song in this newsletter before Christmas.)
Jane gave me permission to be an artist whether or not I ever experienced prestige or recognition. She showed me that none of that matters, and that you can be a world-class artist even if nobody hires you for world stages. Jane’s belief was “if you can choose between money and community, choose community every time.” Jane often said to me, the most recent time being just two weeks ago, “bless you for always being unapologetically yourself.” I should have thanked her for showing me how to do that because I do believe she was the first person to open that door for me.
Jane gardened and drank tea, delighted in walks, and two years ago began writing beautiful newsletters to her community to keep us abreast of her cancer journey. Her weekly messages were indescribably wise, peaceful, joyful and loving, even as she knew her cancer was incurable and time was not on her side. Jane’s grace and wisdom never left her, if anything it grew more formidable.
And then last week, suddenly, Jane left this world Through a haze of sadness and shock I am reminded of how much she shaped my life, pointing me in the direction of my own heart’s desires instead of chasing the carrot on the string. I would not be the same person if not for Jane, and I know from that newsletter community she built that I am not alone in that. So many of us were touched by her light and joy. One woman wrote “I doubt I will ever see such grace, compassion, wisdom and talent all combined in one soul again in my lifetime. She was unique in every good way possible.”
Bless your socks, Jane. We will miss you. We already do.
Shannon
Upcoming Shows (Shannon and Jakeb)
Feb 10 - Ottawa show with Graven - Meow That’s Hot
Feb 11 - Up Close & Personal with Graven (Camborne) - tickets
Featured Song - O Christmas Tree performed by Jane Perry
I hope you’ll indulge one out of season Christmas song in order to enjoy Jane’s musical spirit. Have a listen here.
This was a very touching essay, Shannon. I am so glad you had Jane in your life, she sounds like a beautiful human.
Thank you for this beautiful essay about your friend and mentor.