{"id":13940,"date":"2021-07-12T10:34:27","date_gmt":"2021-07-12T17:34:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.jennifermargulis.net\/?p=13940"},"modified":"2021-07-12T10:35:08","modified_gmt":"2021-07-12T17:35:08","slug":"jean-tangren-alexander-october-22-1940-march-26-2021","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jennifermargulis.net\/jean-tangren-alexander-october-22-1940-march-26-2021\/","title":{"rendered":"Jean Tangren Alexander, October 22, 1940 – March 26, 2021"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Jean

Jean Tangren Alexander on a bench at Lithia Park in Ashland, Oregon.<\/p><\/div>\n

Jean Tangren Alexander was a dear friend, landlady, and honorary grandma. When my two oldest were little, they would walk up to Tangren’s house to play dolls with her, setting up elaborate scenes and photographing them. Jean Tangren Alexander, who we always called Tangren, was buried in the natural burial ground at Willow Witt Ranch<\/a>. There was a celebration of life for Jean Tangren Alexander on Friday, July 10, 2021. Her daughter, Marcella, gave this eulogy. She gave me permission to reprint it here.<\/p>\n

Eulogy for Jean Tangren Alexander
\n<\/strong>By Marcella Alexander<\/span><\/h2>\n

July 10, 2021 (Ashland, Ore.) \u2014How does one choose what to say about a mother? There are so many things I could talk about regarding mine. How do I sum such a complicated person who I knew literally all of my life? Should I discuss her love of the stars? Or our middle of the night forays to my grandparents\u2019 house to watch Deborah Kerr movies<\/a> on TV in the 70s (because that was the only way to see them)? After much deliberation, I landed on dolls.<\/p>\n

My mother, Jean Tangren Alexander, loved dolls<\/strong><\/h3>\n

If anyone here is not familiar with the Raggedy Ann stories, they are the original idea behind Toy Story<\/em>. In these stories, the dolls have adventures while the people are asleep or away, and always try to get back to their left positions just before the humans return. Raggedy Anne\u2019s human is a little girl named Marcella.<\/p>\n

In a piece from the late 90s entitled What Dolls Do<\/em><\/a> my mother wrote, \u201cFor me, long before there was George Berkeley there was Raggedy Ann.\u201d<\/p>\n

George Berkley was a philosopher my mother was particularly fond of. He was famous for advancing the theory that the material world only exists as an idea perceived by the mind. In such a world if matter exists at all, who\u2019s to say what it\u2019s doing when not being perceived?<\/p>\n

My great grandmother Pearl loved dolls and taught my mother to love them as much. When my mother was two and already well versed in the Raggedy Ann stories, Pearl made a Raggedy Ann doll for my mom. In What Dolls Do<\/em>, my mother tells the story of the first night she spent with Raggedy.<\/p>\n

The grownups thought it would be better if my mother did not sleep in the same bed with her. So they set up two chairs next to my mom\u2019s crib and tucked her in under my mom\u2019s bathrobe. When the lights went out my mom began to worry. She wrote, \u201cWhat if someone should come in the night and steel her? If I were a thief stealing valuable things, I would certainly take her.\u201d<\/p>\n

So, my mom reached through the bars of her crib and held Raggedy\u2019s hand tight all night to make sure that didn\u2019t happen. That Raggedy Anne doll remained my mother\u2019s constant companion throughout her life. And now she is buried here with my mom wrapped in the same beautiful shroud made by Gwen and Susan.<\/p>\n

A magical world<\/strong><\/h3>\n

When my mother made the decision to go on hospice, I posted about it on Facebook<\/a>. My childhood best friend messaged me: \u201cSeeing these pictures is to revisit a magical person and the magical world she created for you as a child.\u201d My mother did indeed create a magical world for me. For example, when I was four, my parents and I spent the summer in Germany together. The Germans made the best toys then. Beautiful things you could not buy in the States. I got a stuffed kitty that was partially beanbag, so you could pose her in different positions. Often in the afternoons we would go for a family walk, and often we would leave a saucer of milk out for Kitty.<\/p>\n

For some reason one of my parents often seemed to forget something and would have to run back inside to get whatever it was. We\u2019d journey on our walk and inevitably upon our return, we\u2019d find that kitty had snuck over and drank the milk while we were gone. Sometimes she\u2019d even still be next to the saucer!<\/p>\n

As life went on and I grew older, along with the understanding that there is no Santa Claus or tooth fairy, of course, toys sort of stopped being alive for me. Eventually I became a grown up. Although we always talked and wrote letters, my mother and my lives became quite separate.<\/p>\n

At one point when I was in my early 20s and was living in Europe, she sent me a card in which she wrote about a dream she\u2019d had. I was with a bunch of kids on a playground and she\u2019d lost track of where I was and became concerned. She was looking for me, when she thought, \u201cWait, didn\u2019t she grow up?\u201d But then she saw me playing with the other kids and thought, \u201cOh no, not yet.\u201d Upon waking, she said she that she\u2019d thought about the dream and decided that indeed I was off with a bunch of kids playing and having fun. And that I was loved and taken care of.<\/p>\n

Loved and taken care of<\/strong><\/h3>\n

I felt similarly about her life. From the time my mom moved out of my family house, she surrounded herself with the most amazing groups of women. Many became lifelong friends. So I always knew that she had friends to play with and that she was loved and taken care of.<\/p>\n

However, I didn\u2019t really realize until I attended her 70th<\/sup> birthday party how much<\/em> she meant to so many<\/em> people. All these women were coming up to me, telling me what an honor it was to meet me, telling me how amazing my mother was, and how lucky I was to have her as a mother. I felt like I was the child of some famous guru. I\u2019ve actually said as much to some of her friends over the last few months\u2014and they agree with me.<\/p>\n

Jean Tangren Alexander taught people to question the world<\/strong><\/h3>\n

That party changed my perception of her. She wasn\u2019t just someone who had a lot of friends. She was a pillar of her community, someone who was an important part of bringing sexual equality into the mainstream of our society. And who taught young minds to think in ways they had not previously; to question the world. Whether that be to question whether it was ethical to eat animals, or whether a table still exists when no one is perceiving it, or whether we can really know what dolls do when we aren\u2019t watching. I\u2019ve come to really appreciate my mother on another level. Beyond the person who was my mother.<\/p>\n

Over the past decade, I sold the vast majority of my old toys on eBay. I felt a bit guilty about it, and had to keep reminding myself that they\u2019d be happier anywhere else than stuffed away in a box. (I have Toy Story<\/em> to thank for that.)<\/p>\n

Still believing they’re real<\/strong><\/h3>\n

However, I simply cannot get rid of Kitty, or the Winnie the Pooh I\u2019ve had since I was a baby, or the Snoopy I got for leaving my crib behind, or the Laura Ingalls Wilder rag doll I got when I was five. They all live at my dad\u2019s house, and I feel bad that I grew up and don\u2019t pay them enough attention anymore.<\/p>\n

I was bemoaning this fact to my mom not long ago. As the daughter of two Philosophy professors, I had a pretty thoughtful childhood. And had plenty of time to figure out what I believed while growing up. I like to think of myself as a logical person. My world is one governed by science, reason, and facts. I know perfectly well that they are just cotton stuffing and fabric. This feeling guilty is completely irrational.<\/p>\n

My mom laughed and agreed with me that of course they are just cotton and fabric.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh ha,\u201d she said. \u201cBut, see? The fact that you feel guilty proves that deep down inside a little part of you still believes that they are real.\u201d<\/p>\n

I said, \u201cOh, you\u2019re right!\u201d<\/p>\n

Thank you all for being here. I know that my mother and Raggedy would be so appreciative and thankful to see each and every one of you here today. Enjoy this beautiful summer afternoon. Remember to look up at the stars, and to give your old toys a hug.<\/p>\n

Published: July 12, 2021<\/p>\n

Related articles:
\n<\/strong>Remembering Lynn Margulis<\/a>
\nMy Mom Died a Year and a Half Ago, I’m Still So, So Sad<\/a>
\nDo You Want to be Buried or Cremated?<\/a><\/h4>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Jean Tangren Alexander was a dear friend, landlady, and honorary grandma. When my two oldest were little, they would walk up to Tangren’s house to play dolls with her, setting up elaborate scenes and photographing them. Jean Tangren Alexander, who we always called Tangren, was buried in the natural burial ground at Willow Witt Ranch. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":13943,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":""},"categories":[210,104,8162],"tags":[703,206,12895],"yoast_head":"\nJean Tangren Alexander, a Eulogy by Her Daughter Marcella<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Jean Tangren Alexander loved to play with dolls and look at the stars. 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