Jan's Story by Barry Petersen Page A

hotel, I gave her the room key so she would be the one to open the door and see her next surprise. There in the center of the room was a round, metal statue from India, a Buddha of Many Hands. She had admired it when we were out shopping one day, so I snuck back and bought it for her. It was spiritual and mysterious, just like Jan. She loved it. I have it still, as a remembrance of making a wonderful evening that was a delight for both of us.
    Celebrating life. She did it with such ease, and she let me build around her a place where her life could be celebrated across continents with experiences and adventures and where there was always one place of safety … and that place was in my love for her.

TIMELINE
January, 2006
Barry's update to family and friends
    I know that Jan's e-mails are not terribly informative. You must simply accept this. She is rather vague about details these days, and she is hesitant about discussing her condition. I think that is understandable. All I can say is to keep sending her notes and I will keep encouraging her to answer them. If you have specific concerns that you want to discuss with me alone, send a note and I'll answer back.
    At the moment, Jan is doing well. I can't guarantee how long that will go on, but I promise I'll do whatever I can to make it last. Best from Tokyo.
    ~Barry

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    â€œNever shall I forget the days I spent with you. Continue to be my friend, as you will always find me yours.”
~Ludwig van Beethoven
The Jan We Knew
    I would like to believe that I made Jan feel loved every day. It wasn't something I would say just with words. There was always a quick hug or a kiss or a glance over the breakfast table so she could see in my eyes how much I loved her. And when she saw that, she smiled back. Better than words.
    I always thought of her as “My Jan,” but that wasn't altogether true. She shared that smile and that optimism with everyone who came into her world. As time passed, the loss of “Our Jan” became ever more apparent. Family, hers and mine, and friends, all began missing her spunk, tenderness, and quick sense of humor.
    In an attempt to hold her close and provide comfort, people sent me notes and remembrances of their favorite stories. Little vignettes. Some were stories from the days before I knew her, which I love because they let me see her before there was “us.”
    Long before I met her, Jan worked at KIRO-TV in Seattle where she started in 1974. She was one of the first women reporters in the Seattle market. It wasn't too long before Annie Busch Marshall joined her in the newsroom. Annie wrote:
    â€œI met Jan in September, 1979, when I came to work at KIRO-TV as a reporter/anchor. We were fast friends, the only two female faces on the air for an entire year. I had the day shift and Jan worked the night shift. Since it was still the early days of women in the newsroom or the work force for that matter, we were living in a man's world. We both worked to assert our sharp wits, determination and intelligence to make up for our gender and our height. We were both 5'2” tall, or more accurately, short.
    â€œOne day, the news consultant came to visit. He watched me anchor the Noon News and asked me why I didn't move around more on the set. He said I looked stiff. The answer was simple; my feet didn't touch the ground. I had to jack the chair up quite a bit to avoid looking too diminutive next to the much taller anchorman. So the station handyman built a box to put under my feet while anchoring. It was plywood, covered with carpet.
    â€œJan and I took this marvel of a box around the newsroom to get a new view on life and look a few people in the eye at a higher altitude. Jan especially enjoyed standing on the box and speaking with much taller males who preferred to brush off the ‘little girls.’ In fact, this added height brought her a new-found energy, and she had some rather pointed conversations. One guy became so