Farewell to Jeanne Mustard
November 01, 2004
The school community was saddened to learn of the death of long-time senior school secretary Jeanne Mustard on October 14. Jeanne was suffering from the complications of recurring cancer, and died very peacefully at home. A number of past and present faculty, past parents, and some alumni were able to attend the funeral. Both Pat Keresteci and John Birkett spoke at the funeral. It was Pat who had been instrumental in bringing Jeanne to the school.
The following excerpt was thoughfully put together by John Birkett....
Jeanne was a woman of cultivated tastes, high energy, and strong opinions. These latter two attributes informed her understanding of students. After all, while there are some teenagers apparently without energy, the majority of them have a surfeit. As for opinions, teenagers rarely have a shortage. Thus, Jeanne could be a sympathetic listener while maintaining a pseudo-parental stance.
Jeanne was equally attentive to many staff members. Her best friends seemed to be those with whom she sparred. After all, haven’t most of us found out that a heated discussion lets out the real person? Truly knowing another person is the strongest form of friendship.
The boys knew that this elegant lady dressed in patrician neutrals daily walked home the equivalent of ten subway stops. Many also saw her on weekends as she walked wherever her interests took her. Fit as she was, she never joined in the school’s Terry Fox Run – the clothing wasn’t up to her standards.
Jeanne’s preference for subdued colour in clothing gave way in her home to almost riotous freedom. As co-conspirator in many of her decisions, I can tell you that she was absolutely fearless. How else could one explain candy-apple red walls and ceiling for the largest spaces?
The personal neutrals as well were often abandoned at home in favour of fun, flair, and panache. Jeanne’s informed sense of daring would put many a teenager to shame, but her sense of what was appropriate for where never failed. My own grandmother forbade the wearing of dark clothing at the funeral of her young daughter and at her own funeral as well – an interdict that applied to even the drop shop employees, who grudgingly wore grey. Jeanne approved of this outlook, so some of us are wearing bright colours today in her honour
A passionate reader and solver of crossword puzzles, Jeanne had little tolerance for poor speech or questionable grammar. With the boys, she became a polite, but insistent, teacher of speeching good. Humour and a quick wit helped her through much of this. She was equally firm in helping cultivate musical tastes in the boys. “You’re not seriously going to listen to that crap are you?”, she would chide. She trained us all!
As I’m speaking for those at Royal St. George’s College, I must leave the last word for the boys. Many letters were written by them to Jeanne at the time of her retirement, so it is from these that I have chosen this passage.
Fearless to the end, Jeanne would want us all to “damn the torpedoes, and full speed ahead!”.
The following memoire is from a friend, Pat Keresteci.....
My friend, Madame Moutarde, was a paradox. Friendship with Jeanne was not always easy, but well worth working on. We didn't always agree, but often agreed to disagree. We had a ten year running battle over the phrase "I couldn't - or could- care less”. She was right of course, but I'd say it the wrong way, just to annoy her.
Her views on the daily Toronto newspapers were legend. Once I walked by her desk at RSGC and stopped to talk. Unfortunately, I was carrying The Sun at the time. She looked down her glasses at me and, in a voice dripping with sarcasm, said "REALLY".
Jeanne was my crossword buddy. Most Sunday mornings my phone would ring and Jeanne would say "Do you have your puzzle and pen?" I was fairly knowledgeable about names of baseball players, golfers and the American Revolution, Jeanne was the master of synonyms, homonyms, antonyms and every other “nym” I'd forgotten by grade six.
We had had symphony tickets for years - Jeanne loved Bruch, and Elgar and Franck - and Barbra Streisand. She could have dined comfortably with queens and kings, but Swiss Chalet was her choice before the Symphony.
Most of all she loved to laugh. And she had more nerve than I. Looking at the picture of her at the airport when we went last spring to pick up my sister Kerry – from the gold slippers - to her riding hat and when she smiled she had blackened out most of her teeth. You knew the this was a woman who dared to be different. She dared to be herself. In that context I'd like to read a poem that I've carried around for years. I haven't dared to be that woman in the poem, but Jeanne definitely had.
Warning
When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other peoples' gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
So, dare to wear purple in honour of Jeanne. Raise a glass of wine to her and give a toast Here's to you Jeanne - good on you:!!! Thank you all for being here and for being Jeanne's friends.