John "Jack" C. Jenkins

Jack will be remembered by us for his intelligence, sweetness, irrepressible happy chuckle and his devotion to his family and friends to whom we extend our sympathy. He will be missed. Andrea and Bruce Craig

Friends, Jack's passing has hit me with considerable force, and so even a week later it's still sinking in. The lifetime of recollections of heart and eye and ear suddenly flood in, flashing down an arroyo that hasn't had much water in it lately. We will miss our dear friend, and even though we have been getting used to that lately, this hurts right now. My heartfelt condolences go to Lynn and Wajid and Ceri; Bill and Madeline and their families. ...So many threads of friendship, interlocked and of often startling length. Sometimes the strands were tightly woven together, other times looser and thinner, and at the end now fainter and more stretched out, but never really broken. If you want to go back far enough it starts us in 1932 or '33 when our mothers became fast and lifelong friends, surviving the Depression, living in rooming houses which still stand at 1714 and 1718 Monroe Street. Then later our fathers became friends and all four were comrades and colleagues at the University, the Wisconsin Union and the Historical Society. If you were thus fated to have a friend, fortune was with you if Jack was the one. Monroe Street started a long list of remembered places. Sylvan Ave. and all that came with the friendships and families there. Then family visits out to Millbrae and the start the California connections, followed too soon by the loss of Jack's Dad and back to 1010 University Bay Drive in Shorewood, the Fire Department and the start of the Iowa County epic. Then with Lynn and the arriving kids at Maple Terrace and Franklin Ave. and the years I shared serving under Lt. Jenkins and that fine group on the Shorewood Hills Fire Dept. Then out to New York for me but always in touch and never off the department. Then the Jenkins out to Santa Rosa and then back to Madison. Slow motion vagabonds, all of us. The trips, the vehicles, what a parade: the Bronco, the step side Chevy pickup, the problematic pale green Jeep wagon, the Volvos, some running and some in slow restoration. The Quetico. The Great Smokies. Endless shuttles to Iowa County, often headed for another fine hike or some camping but winding up working on one thing or another anyway. Just as well, really. Almost 3 years ago I was able to help Jack revisit the Shorewood Hills Fire Department before both he and the Department shut down for good. He enjoyed it and everyone was very glad to see him smiling again in his old SHFD coveralls, riding on the '29 Mack one more time. The memories jump and spark out of a kaleidoscope being turned too fast aimed at too bright a light...The thousands of photos and hundreds of songs, and the multiple scores of stories, the new ones and the often retold ones...waves of it, all born along on a steady stream of boon companionship. Jack, always with a ready smile and a lifting attitude, was invariably kind and generous to all. This his friends knew, but Josephine, Sally, Lynn and the kids most especially knew. I probably shared more campfire time with Jack than any one else and I'm grateful for that. I learned how to be a better friend, and a better person, by being friends with Jack. The hurt of losing Jack now seems a bearable price in return for the good fortune and great honor to have know him. Just at the end of the short entry way to Josephine's house in Iowa County, as you arrived at the living room, there was a poem on brown paper that Jack had torn out and stapled to the wall. I saw him do it, and it was there for years. Here it is: "You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again... So why bother in the first place? Just this: what is above knows what is below, But what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know." Rene Daumal "Mount Analogue" 1960. Thanks Jack, for every bit of it. Farewell friend. George. 7946B060-A896-42B1-9BF0-45F10849923B Sent from my iPhone On Feb 19, 2016, at 1:56 PM, Lynne Eich <lynnewe@charter.net> wrote: Thank you, Karen, for thoughtfully sharing the sad news about our dear, dear friend from the old neighborhood. My memories of Jack always include the bright, happy smile on his face (except for his early morning routine when, as a little peewee, he scolded the noisy "dawn crows" outside my bedroom window around 6:00 a.m.). Jack was as kind, patient and good natured a pal as one could ever hope for among the Sylvan-Ridge-Glenway-Larkin Gang. Loving thoughts to you, Jack. Loving thoughts to a good heart. Sent from my iPhone On Feb 19, 2016, at 11:11 AM, "Karen Reppen" <karen.reppen@earthlink.net> wrote: With a heavy heart filled with fond memories and many good wishes that he now be free of confusion and frustration of his terrible illness, I want to make sure you all know that Jack died earlier this week. There's a brief notice in todays obits Wisconsin State Journal, with plans pending on funeral arrangements. Thinking of you all at this sad time. Blessings, ]KR Friends, Jack's passing has hit me with considerable force, and so even a week later it's still sinking in. The lifetime of recollections of heart and eye and ear suddenly flood in, flashing down an arroyo that hasn't had much water in it lately. We will miss our dear friend, and even though we have been getting used to that lately, this hurts right now. My heartfelt condolences go to Lynn and Wajid and Ceri; Bill and Madeline and their families. ...So many threads of friendship, interlocked and of often startling length. Sometimes the strands were tightly woven together, other times looser and thinner, and at the end now fainter and more stretched out, but never really broken. If you want to go back far enough it starts us in 1932 or '33 when our mothers became fast and lifelong friends, surviving the Depression, living in rooming houses which still stand at 1714 and 1718 Monroe Street. Then later our fathers became friends and all four were comrades and colleagues at the University, the Wisconsin Union and the Historical Society. If you were thus fated to have a friend, fortune was with you if Jack was the one. Monroe Street started a long list of remembered places. Sylvan Ave. and all that came with the friendships and families there. Then family visits out to Millbrae and the start the California connections, followed too soon by the loss of Jack's Dad and back to 1010 University Bay Drive in Shorewood, the Fire Department and the start of the Iowa County epic. Then with Lynn and the arriving kids at Maple Terrace and Franklin Ave. and the years I shared serving under Lt. Jenkins and that fine group on the Shorewood Hills Fire Dept. Then out to New York for me but always in touch and never off the department. Then the Jenkins out to Santa Rosa and then back to Madison. Slow motion vagabonds, all of us. The trips, the vehicles, what a parade: the Bronco, the step side Chevy pickup, the problematic pale green Jeep wagon, the Volvos, some running and some in slow restoration. The Quetico. The Great Smokies. Endless shuttles to Iowa County, often headed for another fine hike or some camping but winding up working on one thing or another anyway. Just as well, really. Almost 3 years ago I was able to help Jack revisit the Shorewood Hills Fire Department before both he and the Department shut down for good. He enjoyed it and everyone was very glad to see him smiling again in his old SHFD coveralls, riding on the '29 Mack one more time. The memories jump and spark out of a kaleidoscope being turned too fast aimed at too bright a light...The thousands of photos and hundreds of songs, and the multiple scores of stories, the new ones and the often retold ones...waves of it, all born along on a steady stream of boon companionship. Jack, always with a ready smile and a lifting attitude, was invariably kind and generous to all. This his friends knew, but Josephine, Sally, Lynn and the kids most especially knew. I probably shared more campfire time with Jack than any one else and I'm grateful for that. I learned how to be a better friend, and a better person, by being friends with Jack. The hurt of losing Jack now seems a bearable price in return for the good fortune and great honor to have know him. Just at the end of the short entry way to Josephine's house in Iowa County, as you arrived at the living room, there was a poem on brown paper that Jack had torn out and stapled to the wall. I saw him do it, and it was there for years. Here it is: "You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again... So why bother in the first place? Just this: what is above knows what is below, But what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know." Rene Daumal "Mount Analogue" 1960. Thanks Jack, for every bit of it. Farewell friend. George. 7946B060-A896-42B1-9BF0-45F10849923B Sent from my iPhone On Feb 19, 2016, at 1:56 PM, Lynne Eich <lynnewe@charter.net> wrote: Thank you, Karen, for thoughtfully sharing the sad news about our dear, dear friend from the old neighborhood. My memories of Jack always include the bright, happy smile on his face (except for his early morning routine when, as a little peewee, he scolded the noisy "dawn crows" outside my bedroom window around 6:00 a.m.). Jack was as kind, patient and good natured a pal as one could ever hope for among the Sylvan-Ridge-Glenway-Larkin Gang. Loving thoughts to you, Jack. Loving thoughts to a good heart. Sent from my iPhone On Feb 19, 2016, at 11:11 AM, "Karen Reppen" <karen.reppen@earthlink.net> wrote: With a heavy heart filled with fond memories and many good wishes that he now be free of confusion and frustration of his terrible illness, I want to make sure you all know that Jack died earlier this week. There's a brief notice in todays obits Wisconsin State Journal, with plans pending on funeral arrangements. Thinking of you all at this sad time. Blessings, ]KR

My husband & I knew Jack when he was on the Shorewood Hills Fire Department. As a dispatcher, an EMT, and later, a firefighter, I looked up to him and enjoyed his company. My thoughts are with you....